, who had done the very best thing that could have
been done to a superficial injury of the kind--painted it liberally with
Friar's Balsam, which though causing intense pain for a few minutes,
had quickly stayed the flow of blood and prevented any inflammation from
setting in.

"Is Mrs. Krause well, Niabon?" I asked as I readjusted the bandage.

"She is well."

"And she knows how her husband died?"

"She knows how he died, but knows not whose were the hands that dealt
the blows. And, Simi, it is well that she does not know, for I am her
friend, and it would grieve her did she know all."

I thought a moment or two before answering--

"How can the truth be kept from her, Niabon? There are many people who
know 'twas thee and Tematau who slew him."

"_She_ will never know, Simi," she asserted earnestly; "there is but one
man who could tell her, and him she will not ask."

"Who is that?" I asked wonderingly.

"Thyself."

"Why should she not ask me? Her husband met his death in my house. I saw
his body lying at my feet. Dost think she will fail to question _me_ if
others whom she may ask remain silent?"

"She will ask thee no questions concerning him. His death hath taken
away from her a terror by day and bad dreams at night that for two years
hath wrung her heart and weakened her body, which is but frail. Have
pity on her, Simi, and say nothing to her when thou seest her of her
dead husband. He is gone; and yet, although she wept when I told her he
was dead, and she knelt and prayed for his spirit which has gone beyond,
I know well that now some peace hath come into her heart. And I have
given her sleep."

As she spoke she turned her strangely sombrous and liquid eyes to mine
in such an appealing glance that I could not resist her magnetic power,
strive as I would.

"I will do as you wish, Niabon," I said, falling weakly into English
again. "You are a strange girl, but I am sure that you mean well, not
alone to me, but to that poor heartbroken woman. But you must tell me
the meaning of all this strange silence on the part of the people of
this village. Why do they deny the death of Krause? How _can_ they
conceal it? It cannot possibly be hidden. There is a German man-of-war
coming to this island soon--Mrs. Krause herself told me--and how will
these people account to the captain for his death? You and Tematau, who
together killed him, cannot escape. And if I am questioned--as I shall
be--what can I do? I cann