of the matter, and if you ask me what then became of the
body, I must recall to you that snapping, crackling sound, with the
swirl in the water. The shark is a surface feeder and is plentiful in
those parts.

XII

THE LIFT

Flight-Commander Stangate should have been happy. He had come safely
through the war without a hurt, and with a good name in the most heroic
of services. He had only just turned thirty, and a great career seemed
to lie ahead of him. Above all, beautiful Mary MacLean was walking by
his side, and he had her promise that she was there for life. What could
a young man ask for more? And yet there was a heavy load upon his heart.

He could not explain it himself, and endeavoured to reason himself out
of it. There was the blue sky above him, the blue sea in front, the
beautiful gardens with their throngs of happy pleasure-seekers around.
Above all, there was that sweet face turned upon him with questioning
concern. Why could he not raise himself to so joyful an environment? He
made effort after effort, but they were not convincing enough to deceive
the quick instinct of a loving woman.

"What is it, Tom?" she asked anxiously. "I can see that something is
clouding you. Do tell me if I can help you in any way."

He laughed in shame-faced fashion.

"It is such a sin to spoil our little outing," he said. "I could kick
myself round these gardens when I think of it. Don't worry, my darling,
for I know the cloud will roll off. I suppose I am a creature of nerves,
though I should have got past that by now. The Flying Service is
supposed either to break you or to warrant you for life."

"It is nothing definite, then?"

"No, it is nothing definite. That's the worst of it. You could fight it
more easily if it was. It's just a dead, heavy depression here in my
chest and across my forehead. But do forgive me, dear girl! What a brute
I am to shadow you like this."

"But I love to share even the smallest trouble."

"Well, it's gone--vamosed--vanished. We will talk about it no more."

She gave him a swift, penetrating glance.

"No, no, Tom; your brow shows, as well as feels. Tell me, dear, have you
often felt like this? You really look very ill. Sit here, dear, in the
shade and tell me of it."

They sat together in the shadow of the great latticed Tower which reared
itself six hundred feet high beside them.

"I have an absurd faculty," said he; "I don't know that I have ever
mentioned it to any