Clouds had gathered thickly over the sky, and though a few shafts of sunlight still forced a passage through them, the threatening darkness spread with steady persistency, especially to the northern side of the horizon, where Storm hovered in the shape of a black wing edged with coppery crimson.

As they reached the yacht a silver glare of lightning sprang forth from beneath this sable pinion, and a few large drops of rain began to fall.

Errington hurried Thelma on deck and down into the saloon.

His friends, with Gueldmar, followed,--and the vessel was soon plunging through waves of no small height on her way back to the Altenfjord.

A loud peal of thunder like a salvo of artillery accompanied their departure from Soroe, and Thelma shivered a little as she heard it.
"You are nervous, Mademoiselle Gueldmar ?" asked Duprez, noticing her tremor.
"Oh no," she answered brightly.