the
embers at his feet and remained insensible to the friendly touch. Yet
d'Alcacer could not imagine that he had not been heard. He folded his
arms on his breast.

"I don't know why I have been telling you all this," he said,
apologetically. "I hope I have not been intruding on your thoughts."

"I can think of nothing," Lingard declared, unexpectedly. "I only know
that your voice was friendly; and for the rest--"

"One must get through a night like this somehow," said d'Alcacer.
"The very stars seem to lag on their way. It's a common belief that a
drowning man is irresistibly compelled to review his past experience.
Just now I feel quite out of my depth, and whatever I have said has come
from my experience. I am sure you will forgive me. All that it amounts
to is this: that it is natural for us to cry for the moon but it would
be very fatal to have our cries heard. For what could any one of us do
with the moon if it were given to him? I am speaking now of us--common
mortals."

It was not immediately after d'Alcacer had ceased speaking but only
after a moment that Lingard unclasped his fingers, got up, and walked
away. D'Alcacer followed with a glance of quiet interest the big,
shadowy form till it vanished in the direction of an enormous forest
tree left in the middle of the stockade. The deepest shade of the night
was spread over the ground of Belarab's fortified courtyard. The very
embers of the fires had turned black, showing only here and there a mere
spark; and the forms of the prone sleepers could hardly be distinguished
from the hard ground on which they rested, with their arms lying
beside them on the mats. Presently Mrs. Travers appeared quite close to
d'Alcacer, who rose instantly.

"Martin is asleep," said Mrs. Travers in a tone that seemed to have
borrowed something of the mystery and quietness of the night.

"All the world's asleep," observed d'Alcacer, so low that Mrs. Travers
barely caught the words, "Except you and me, and one other who has left
me to wander about in the night."

"Was he with you? Where has he gone?"

"Where it's darkest I should think," answered d'Alcacer, secretly. "It's
no use going to look for him; but if you keep perfectly still and hold
your breath you may presently hear his footsteps."

"What did he tell you?" breathed out Mrs. Travers.

"I didn't ask him anything. I only know that something has happened
which has robbed him of his power of thinking . . . Hadn't I be