Publisher's Synopsis
On the great steamship, plying between New York City and Nova Scotia, Fleming Stone came out of his stateroom and went down the brass-bound staircase. He paid scant attention to the shifting fog outside; his mind was intent on his Journey's End and he wanted to reach the metropolis as soon as possible. But just at present he wanted his breakfast and, reaching the dining-room, drifted into his seat at the Captain's table. Captain Gregg welcomed him with a smile, a reception not unusual to Fleming Stone who made many friends because he couldn't help it. They discussed the International Yacht Races, then just beginning, and, as the talk drifted to other things, the Captain gave an anxious glance through a porthole and hoped he would not be late in arriving. "But," he said, "it's a fog that is going to lift, I'm sure of that." "Let's hope so," Stone said; "I want to get home." "Got a case on?" "No, but I fancy I shall find one awaiting me there." A steward came to their table.
