he replied, secretly marveling at her air.

"I plead guilty to a slight feeling of nervousness," she went on. "Is
your revolver loaded? Would you mind lending it to me? I think I
could sleep more soundly if I had a reliable weapon tucked under my
pillow."

A whiff of suspicion crossed Christobal's mind, but he brushed it aside
as unworthy. At five o'clock that day he certainly would not have
granted her request. But now, since the new hope had sprung up that
Courtenay was alive, it was absurd to doubt her motives.

So it came to pass that Diego Suarez, lying asleep in his bunk, awoke
with a start to find a shrouded figure bending over him.

"Is that you, Senor Suarez?" asked a voice, which he recognized
instantly as belonging to the Senorita Maxwell.

"Yes," said he, drowsily.

"Have you the witch-doctor's clothes you wore when you came on board
the ship?"

"But yes, senorita."

A hand, slight but strong, grasped him by the shoulder. He felt the
rim of a revolver barrel pressed against his forehead.

"Get up, then! Dress quickly in those clothes, and come out on deck.
By the side of your bunk you will find tins of black and white paint to
smear your face and hands. At the slightest refusal on your part to do
as I bid you--if you utter a cry or make any noise to attract
attention--I shall kill you without another word."

The soft voice had a steely ring in it which persuaded the man from
Argentina that he had better obey. In less than five minutes he
emerged from the doorway. The corridor in which his cabin was situated
led into the saloon. Elsie awaited him. A lamp, dimly lighting the
gangway, revealed her face. Suarez thought he had to deal with a
mad-woman. The dog, standing by her side, sniffed at him gingerly, but
a muttered "Be quiet, Joey!" prevented any outburst, every fox-terrier
being a born conspirator.

"What do you wish me to do, senorita?" began Suarez, thinking to
placate her until he could obtain assistance.

"You must obey me in silence," she whispered tensely. "You must not
even speak. One syllable aloud on deck will mean your death. Walk in
front of me, up the main companion, and go straight to the ship's side."

"But, senorita!--"

The hammer of the revolver began to rise under the pressure of Elsie's
finger on the trigger. The man's hair rose even more rapidly. His
nerve was broken. He turned along the corridor in front of her, not
knowing the instant a bullet mi