As the shots and din had racketed through the ship Mr. Henry Walton had leaped from his bunk, and wrenched the door of his stateroom open. Other doors were being opened, pyjama-clad figures were emerging from the cabins, but Mr. Henry Walton, having perhaps a peculiar interest in any untoward event, and especially one of this nature that might transpire aboard the Alola, was by a small margin the first to reach the forward cross-alleyway from which direction the disturbance had seemed to come. He did not stop here, however. For perhaps very valid reasons he made at once for Monsieur Faradeau’s room. The key on the outside of the door instantly caught his eye. It seemed to affect Mr. Henry Walton unhappily. He glanced sharply around him. Footsteps were pattering up the alleyways, voices wer
