everything else, he would have stepped forward, had it not been for the restraining hand of the sergeant.

"The prisoner, m' Lud," said the latter, saluting.

The admiral continued his writing a moment, and then looking up fixed his eyes keenly upon the young man. His first glance told him that he had to deal with no ordinary prisoner. He rose at once and bowed with the courtesy of a finished gentleman.

"Have the goodness to step forward, sir, and be seated," he said, pointing to the chair. "Sergeant, remain on guard where you are."

With an equally low bow to the older man, O'Neill took a few steps in his direction and sat down on the indicated chair in front of the admiral, facing him and the woman beyond, who, still intent upon her book or lost in thought, had not yet noticed his entrance. Prisoners, in fact, being every-day occurrences at the castle in these troublous times, they had ceased to interest her; still the unusual complaisance of the old man, as expressed by his voice and manner, attracted her attention; she looked up from the book without turning her head, and listened.

"I am sorry to subject you to any annoyance, sir," continued the admiral, "but the rules are very strict, and I must abide by my own regulations. We apprehend a descent upon our coast by the notorious pirate, John Paul Jones--" O'Neill started violently and bit his lip, but said nothing--"and it is my duty to take unusual precautions," added the speaker. "I must ask your name, your station, and business here."

"I am the--" said O'Neill, quietly, but with his glance fixed on the powdered head showing over the chair-back opposite him.

There was a commotion at the other side of the table. Lady Elizabeth sprang to her feet with a hurried exclamation, dropped her book to the floor, and then turned quickly, and stepped toward the other two. O'Neill and the admiral both rose at the same time.

She was en grande tenue, her hair rolled high and powdered, jewels sparkling about the snowy throat, which rose from the pale blue silk of her corsage.

"It is--" she cried.

"The Marquis de Richemont, at your service, mademoiselle," O'Neill interrupted quickly, bowing low before her, fearing lest in her surprise she would betray him.

"Good heavens, Elizabeth! what is the meaning of this? Do you know this 

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