a disturbance for'ard with the native
crew.

Most fortunately for himself, Oliver did not want any coffee, so merely
giving the man a gruff "No, thank you," he rose and went on deck.

The moment he was out of the cabin Chard appeared, and looked
inquiringly at the second steward.

"'E won't 'ave any, blarst him!" said the man, speaking in a whisper,
for Latour, the chief steward, was in his cabin, which was abreast the
trade-room.

Chard uttered a curse. "Never mind him, then. Sling it out of the port
or you'll be giving it to me instead perhaps. Are the other two cups
ready?"

The man nodded. "All ready, but it's a bit early yet."

"That doesn't matter. Pour it out and take it to them--the sooner the
better."

Chard, whose dark face was deeply flushed, sat down at the table, lit
a cigar, and watched his villainous accomplice place the two cups of
coffee with some biscuits on a tray, take it to Miss Remington's door
and knock.

"Coffee, ma'am."

"Thank you, steward," he heard Tessa's soft voice reply as Maoni opened
the door and took the tray from Jessop.

The supercargo rose from his seat with a smile of satisfaction. The
crime he meditated seemed no crime to his base and vicious heart.
He merely regarded it as a clever trick; dangerous perhaps, but not
dangerous to him; for deeply steeped as he was in numerous villainies
he had never yet been called to account for any one of his misdeeds,
and long immunity had rendered him utterly hardened and callous to any
sentiment of pity or remorse.

He went on deck and walked leisurely for'ard till he came abreast of the
funnel. A big swarthy-faced man who was standing near the ash-hoist was
awaiting him.

"Are you sober enough, Tim, not to make any mistakes?" asked Chard,
leaning forward and looking eagerly into the man's face.

"Just as sober as you are," was the reply, given with insolent
familiarity. "I've kept my head pretty clear, as clear as yours and the
skipper's, anyway."

The two conversed for a few minutes, and then separated, the supercargo
going up on the bridge to join his jackal. Half-way up the ladder he
heard the sound of angry voices. Hendry was quarrelling with his chief
officer.

"Go and keep your watch below," said the captain furiously, his
bloodshot eyes glaring fiercely upon the mate. "I tell you that I'll
keep the beggar in irons till he rots in them, or until Mr. Chard kicks
him ashore."

"Very well, sir," said Oliver quietly, p