and hope as was in his voice.

The sailor stood amazed. "Thank God?" he repeated. "Thank--what d'ye
mean?"

But Throckmartin was moving onward to his cabin. I started to follow.
The first officer stopped me.

"Your friend," he said, "is he ill?"

"The sea!" I answered hurriedly. "He's not used to it. I am going to
look after him."

Doubt and disbelief were plain in the seaman's eyes but I hurried on.
For I knew now that Throckmartin was ill indeed--but with a sickness
the ship's doctor nor any other could heal.

CHAPTER II

"Dead! All Dead!"

He was sitting, face in hands, on the side of his berth as I entered.
He had taken off his coat.

"Throck," I cried. "What was it? What are you flying from, man?
Where is your wife--and Stanton?"

"Dead!" he replied monotonously. "Dead! All dead!" Then as I
recoiled from him--"All dead. Edith, Stanton, Thora--dead--or worse.
And Edith in the Moon Pool--with them--drawn by what you saw on the
moon path--that has put its brand upon me--and follows me!"

He ripped open his shirt.

"Look at this," he said. Around his chest, above his heart, the skin
was white as pearl. This whiteness was sharply defined against the
healthy tint of the body. It circled him with an even cincture about
two inches wide.

"Burn it!" he said, and offered me his cigarette. I drew back. He
gestured--peremptorily. I pressed the glowing end of the cigarette
into the ribbon of white flesh. He did not flinch nor was there odour
of burning nor, as I drew the little cylinder away, any mark upon the
whiteness.

"Feel it!" he commanded again. I placed my fingers upon the band. It
was cold--like frozen marble.

He drew his shirt around him.

"Two things you have seen," he said. "_It_--and its mark. Seeing,
you must believe my story. Goodwin, I tell you again that my wife is
dead--or worse--I do not know; the prey of--what you saw; so, too, is
Stanton; so Thora. How--"

Tears rolled down the seared face.

"Why did God let it conquer us? Why did He let it take my Edith?" he
cried in utter bitterness. "Are there things stronger than God, do you
think, Walter?"

I hesitated.

"Are there? Are there?" His wild eyes searched me.

"I do not know just how you define God," I managed at last through my
astonishment to make answer. "If you mean the will to know, working
through science--"

He waved me aside impatiently.

"Science," he said. "What is our science against--that?