pause and think. I might take
her on deck by force before the men could interfere. But her cries would
rouse them; they would hear the splash in the water, and they might be
quick enough to rescue us. It would be wiser, perhaps, to wait a little
and trust to my cunning to delude her into leaving the cabin of her own
accord. I put the bag back on the table, and began to search for the
leather money-case. My hands were strangely clumsy and helpless. I could
only find the case after scattering half the contents of the bag on the
table. The child was near me at the time, and noticed what I was doing.

"Oh, how awkward you are!" she burst out, in her frankly fearless way.
"Let me put your bag tidy. Do, please!"

I granted the request impatiently. Elfie's restless desire to be always
doing something, instead of amusing me, as usual, irritated me now. The
interest that I had once felt in the charming little creature was all
gone. An innocent love was a feeling that was stifled in the poisoned
atmosphere of my mind that night.

The money I had with me was mostly composed of notes of the Bank of
England. Carefully keeping up appearances, I set aside the sum that
would probably be required to take a traveler back to London; and I put
all that remained into the hands of Mrs. Van Brandt. Could she suspect
me of a design on her life now?

"That will do for the present," I said. "I can communicate with you in
the future through Messrs. Van Brandt, of Amsterdam."

She took the money mechanically. Her hand trembled; her eyes met mine
with a look of piteous entreaty. She tried to revive my old tenderness
for her; she made a last appeal to my forbearance and consideration.

"We may part friends," she said, in low, trembling tones. "And as
friends we may meet again, when time has taught you to think forgivingly
of what has passed between us, to-night."

She offered me her hand. I looked at her without taking it. I penetrated
her motive in appealing to my old regard for her. Still suspecting me,
she had tried her last chance of getting safely on shore.

"The less we say of the past, the better," I answered, with ironical
politeness. "It is getting late. And you will agree with me that Elfie
ought to be in her bed." I looked round at the child. "Be quick, Elfie,"
I said; "your mamma is going away." I opened the cabin door, and offered
my arm to Mrs. Van Brandt. "This boat is my house for the time being,"
I resumed. "When ladies take