dust from the cork with my handkerchief, I found that the top was covered with sealing-wax, upon which was stamped with a seal the letter "B".

An insatiable desire to possess that bottle seized me. Finssen said he could not give it to me, for it did not belong to him. His grandfather had found it floating in the water years ago. It had been given to his father and his father had given it to him. When the owner came for it, he could have it, he said. Then I determined upon an act of what I deemed justifiable strategy. Appearing to notice the seal for the first time, I cried:

Why, I know that seal! I know to whom it belongs! I know the person who uses that seal!"

"Then you will take the bottle to him?" asked Finssen. "Yes," I replied, "but I know that he would not be willing to accept it unless he paid you for taking such good care of it for him for so many years."

"There is no

"It has been no trouble," answered Olaf. reason why he should pay me for doing what has been no trouble."

I told him that I would see that the bottle was delivered to the proper person, and thanked him in the name of the owner for the care he had given it.

I took the bottle to my room. Then I sent one of the servants to get some cold water and some boiling water. He returned with the information that the cook would loan me some but she could not give it to me as water was very scarce. I accepted the loan and he soon returned with two small dishes, one containing the cold water and the other the hot. I did not wish to break the bottle in pieces, so I placed the bottom of it in the cold water, and then plunged it into the hot water. I heard a snap and knew that the bottom of the bottle had separated from the top. I turned the hot water in with the cold, holding the bottle in position, and then sent the water to the cook with my thanks, accompanied by a kroner for recompense. I told the servant that I wished to be alone, and then I examined the contents of the bottle. As I lifted the upper part from the base which had been separated from it, a roll of paper and two letters fell upon the table. I picked up one of the letters. It was addressed to Hon. Joseph Alston, Charleston, S. C. I was dazed, almost confounded. Finally, I sum

moned courage to pick up the second letter, and my astonishment upon reading the superscription was greater than ever. It was directed to Col. Aaron Burr, New York. I examined the roll of manuscript; it was written in French. Although I did not speak the language, I could read it with considerable facility. First, I opened the letter to Mr. Alston, noticing at the time that both letters were sealed with the same seal that had been used upon the cork of the bottle. The letter was in English. As I unfolded the sheet two half circlets of gold fell from it. I picked them up and looked at them. Upon one of them were the letters J. A. to T. B., 1801. A wedding ring! The meaning was explained when I read the letter. Then I opened the letter addressed to Col. Burr. It was in cypher. Quickly, I drew up my traveling bag and hunted through to see if I had kept a copy of a cypher found among Col. Dane's papers. Fortunately I had done so and the deciphering of the letter was easy. Then I unrolled the manuscript and read it from beginning to end; from the day when the ill-fated Patriot" sailed from the port of Charleston, until the night when Theodosia accompanied Capt. Thaddeus, she knew not where. Where had she gone? Part of the mystery had been cleared up, but the part that remained was more impenetrable than ever.

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CHAPTER XL

THE WRECK OF THE RAINBOW

SUNDAY, September 19.

Although I have made copious shorthand notes in my notebook, my journal has been neglected since the 16th of August. I cannot hope to write out here at length what has transpired during the past month, but I will endeavor to condense into a few salient sentences an epitome of the principal events. Sir William returned from his trip to the sulphur mines and we passed another fortnight in extended journeys into the centre of the island. On Friday, September 3, we started on our return trip. Thorvald accompanied us, his ostensible reason being to visit the King of Denmark in relation to the Dane legacy; but I knew there was a more potent reason in the shape of a passenger on the Rainbow.

The day after leaving Reikiavik, the sky became overcast. The next day, the rain fell in torrents, accompanied by a heavy wind, which soon became a gale, and later on, a veritable tempest. We were driven out of our course by its fury. On the morning of the 15th of September, Capt. Millett espied what appeared to be a land-locked bay, which, if we could reach, would become a haven of safety. Instead, the Rainbow ran upon some sunken rocks and became a total wreck. We were obliged to take to the boats and, after much difficulty, the passengers and crew were at last safe on shore.

As one of the boats was cast ashore by a huge wave, Thorvald was thrown from it violently and his head struck upon a rock. In times of danger and suffering, love speaks in no uncertain tones. It was so in this case, and during the five minutes that followed the accident, every member of our little party knew that Gwendolin Appleton loved Thorvald Sigurdsson as devotedly as he loved her.

But why look back with such regret, if the lives of all our party were saved? For this good and sufficient reason. As I

stood upon that forlorn beach, looking first at the wrecked Rainbow and then at its wrecked passengers and crew, who stood huddled together, without food or shelter, the thought came to me that this 15th of September was the day I had looked forward to upon which I could open the precious sealed packet and learn its contents, but the danger was so imminent that we had been obliged to leave the Rainbow in order to save our lives and no thought had been given, in that moment of peril, to our personal belongings. Now, it was too late. The storm increased in violence and the ill-fated yacht parted amidships and sunk beneath the waters of the bay.

Sir William has offered to bear the expenses for diving, in order to secure the lost packet, but I would not consent to such an outlay, for I doubt if it would be possible for us to even find the little bay in which the Rainbow had sunk.

MONDAY, September 27.

Sir William has just left me. When he came in, his face was beaming with pleasure. He told me that he had just met an old friend, the Duke of Hamilton, who had invited our party to go to his country house and stay as long as we pleased.

At first I declined. What good could I hope to gain from such a visit. I had lost all my treasures with the exception of my journal and note-book, which were, fortunately, in the pocket of the overcoat which I wore when we were obliged to leave the yacht. Then I thought of Thorvald whose injury had proved to be quite severe.

Should I be keeping my promise made to Col. Dane unless I remained near him until he was out of danger and on the road to sure recovery? At last I consented, and we shall soon leave our comfortable quarters which we have occupied in a Liverpool hotel for the past week.

CHAPTER XLI

THE DEATH OF THEODOSIA

THURSDAY, September 30.

We arrived yesterday at the Duke of Hamilton's country house. He has but few visitors at present, but by the first of October, the house will be crowded. The Duke's family physician says that Thorvald will suffer no permanent injury from his accident. What he most requires is rest and good nursing. He is sure to receive these, for Miss Gwendolin has hardly left his side since the accident.

As I was sitting this morning with the Duke in the library reading a newspaper, he looked up from the letter he was writing and said,

"Sir William has told me of the fate of your manuscripts and documents. I wish that I could compensate in some way for the loss that you have sustained, but the Hamilton family, although it has rendered service to the country, has done nothing of a very distinguished nature that I remember."

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'Was there a member of your family by the name of Daniel Hamilton," I inquired, "who many years ago left Scotland and went to the West Indies?"

"I know to whom you refer," replied the Duke; "he was my grandfather's uncle. I have read about him and his son who, I understand, took a very prominent part in the American Revolution."

"What is your Christian name," I asked, "if I may presume?"

"Alexander,” replied the Duke, "and that was my father's before me. He was a second son and began public life in the navy, but the death of his brother, of course, gave him the title."

"Was he engaged in the War of 1812?" I asked.

"No," replied the Duke, "he returned to England before that time. His principal service was rendered in chasing the pirates