fortune, the intelligent and imaginative suffer most because
they see and feel everything, and also foresee further misfortunes to
come. Robert's present position brought to him in a glittering train
all that he had lost. Having a keen social sense his life in New York
had been one of continuing charm. Now the balls and receptions that
he had attended at great houses came back to him, even more brilliant
and vivid than their original colors had been. He remembered the many
beautiful women he had seen, in their dresses of silk or satin, with
their rosy faces and powdered hair, and the great merchants and feudal
landowners, and the British and American officers in their bright new
uniforms, talking proudly of the honors they expected to win.

Then that splendid dream was gone, vanishing like a mist before a
wind, and he was back in the swaying darkness of the bunk, hands and
feet bound, and head aching. All things are relative. He felt now if
only the cruel cords were taken off his wrists and ankles he could be
happy. Then he would be able to sit up, move his limbs, and his head
would stop aching. He called all the powers of his will to his
aid. Since he could not move he would not cause himself any increase
of pain by striving to do so. He commanded his body to lie still and
compose itself and it obeyed. In a little while his head ceased to
ache so fiercely, and the cords did not bite so deep.

Then he took thought. He was still sure that he was on board the
schooner that had run him down. He remembered the warning of St. Luc
against Adrian Van Zoon, and Adrian Van Zoon's suggestion that he row
his own boat across to Paulus Hook. But it seemed incredible. A
merchant, a rich man of high standing in New York, could not plan his
murder. Where was the motive? And, if such a motive did exist, a man
of Van Zoon's standing could not afford to take so great a risk. In
spite of St. Luc and his faith in him he dismissed it as an
impossibility. If Van Zoon had wished his death he would not have
been taken out of the river. He must seek elsewhere the reason of his
present state.

He listened attentively, and it seemed to him that the creaking and
groaning of the cordage increased. Once or twice he thought he heard
footsteps over his head, but he concluded that it was merely the
imagination. Then, after an interminable period of waiting, the door
to the room opened and a man carrying a ship's lantern entered,
followed closely by a