“I hope that you will not get your nose frozen, and that you will discover that you are a prince in disguise!” said she, laughing impertinently.

“If that should happen, then at least I might hope to win a little of your affection?” he said, trying to smile, to hide his feelings, for her sarcasm had cut him to the heart.

“Do you doubt it?” answered Kajsa, as she turned toward her uncle, to show that her adieu to him was finished.

The time of departure had indeed come.  The warning bell rang imperiously.

The crowd of visitors descended the stairs to the boats which were waiting for them.

In the midst of this confusion every one noticed the arrival of a tardy passenger, who mounted to the deck with his valise in his hand.

The tardy one was Tudor Brown.  He presented himself to the captain, and claimed his cabin, to which he was immediately shown.

A moment later, after two or three prolonged whistles, the engine began to work, and a sea of foam whitening the waters behind her, the “Alaska” glided majestically over the green waters of the Baltic, and soon left Stockholm behind her, followed by the acclamations of the crowd who were waving their hats and handkerchiefs.

Erik, on the bridge, directed the maneuvers of the vessel, while Mr. Bredejord and the doctor waved a last farewell to Vanda from the deck.

Mr. Malarius, already frightfully seasick, had retired to his bed.  They were all so occupied with saying farewell that not one of them had noticed the arrival of Tudor Brown.

Therefore the doctor could not repress a start of surprise when as he turned around, he saw him ascending from the depths of the vessel, and marching straight toward him, with his hands in his pockets, clothed as he had been at their first interview, and with his hat always seemingly glued to his head.

“Fine weather!” said Tudor Brown, by way of salutation and introduction.

The doctor was stupefied by his effrontery.  He waited for some moments to see if this strange man would make any excuse, or give any explanation of his conduct.

Seeing that he did not intend to say anything, he opened the subject himself.

“Well, sir, it appears that Patrick O’Donoghan is not dead, as we supposed!” he said, with his customary vivacity.

“That is precisely what I want to find out, and it is on that account I have undertaken this voyage.”

After saying this, Tudor Brown turned away, and began to walk up and down the deck, whistling his favorite air, appearing to think that his explanation was perfectly satisfactory.

Erik and Mr. Bredejord listened to this conversation with a natural curiosity.  They had never seen Tudor Brown before, and they studied him attentively, even more so than Dr. Schwaryencrona.  It seemed to them that the man, although he affected indifference, cast a furtive glance at them from time to time, to see what impression he made upon them.  Perceiving this, they also immediately feigned to take no notice of him, and did not address a word to him.  But as soon as they descended to the saloon, upon which their cabins opened, they took counsel together.