CHAPTER II.
THE SPY AND THE VICTIM.
The noble steamer Baltic plowed her way through the buffeting bosoms of the blue Atlantic oceanward.
There was no land, in sight, there was no moon to light the waves, but their own phosphorescence made the bounding billows visible to those who came on deck. The sky above was clear, and the stars twinkled in the blue above like diamonds in sapphire setting.
There were a goodly number of passengers on deck, both cabin and steerage, and the hum of voices could be heard above the "clang-clang" of the engines, the "whurr" of the propeller, and the long lines of foam which shot away to larboard and starboard like streaks of silver gave food for reflection and conversation.
Billy Barnwell was on deck, and in a very short time a conversation sprang up between him and an aged gentleman, by whose side sat a young lady with a veil over her face.
Her voice was full and sweet, and the old gentleman's voice was that of a man who was perfectly balanced, showing in all respects a person of more than ordinary conditions in life–a refined gentleman.
But in the uncertain light of the cabin skylights Barnwell could not see plainly enough to distinguish faces, although the voice of both the old man and the young lady were so impressed upon his mind that he could not forget them.
Tobasco was also on deck, as it was his province to be, and he watched young Barnwell, of course, and also the people with whom he was conversing.
Indeed, he seldom allowed them out of his sight during the entire voyage.