When the explosion on board the Imperial yacht occurred, Orloff and the girl were strolling along one of the quays which commanded a full view of the harbour, and, attracted by the tremendous report, they turned their eyes seaward to behold a dense column of vapourish smoke rising upwards, and wreckage of all kinds filling the air. The girl staggered, and reeled against her companion, and he, clapping his hand suddenly to his forehead, exclaimed:
‘My God! what have I done? The machine has gone off before its time. I must have set the index wrong.’
The excitement both on shore and in the harbour was tremendous, otherwise Orloff and the woman would surely have drawn attention to themselves by the terror and nervousness they displayed.
‘We are lost! we are lost!’ wailed the woman.
At this the man seemed to suddenly recover his self-possession.
‘Peace, fool!’ he muttered savagely between his teeth. ‘We are not lost.’
He glanced round him anxiously for some moments; then, seeing a boat containing a solitary boatman about to put off from the quay, he said hurriedly to his companion, ‘Stop here for a little while; I will return shortly.’
She was so dazed and stupefied that she made no attempt to stop him, and he hurried away, rushed down a flight of stone steps, and hailed the boatman.
After a few words of haggling and bargaining, Orloff sprang into the little craft and the boatman rowed rapidly out towards the North Star.
The girl waited and waited in a fever of anxiety and impatience. She paced the quay—up and down, up and down. To and fro she went. Her face was as white as bleached marble. Her dark flashing eyes bespoke the fear she felt. Her hands opened and shut spasmodically from the extreme nervous tension she felt.