re many days have passed."

"It is a crime for a _forcat_ to evade his prison--a crime to aid him,"
cried the Countess.

"We are not afraid of the punishment," said Virginia, hot, indignant
blood springing to her cheeks. "_We_ are ready to face the consequences
of our own actions."

The emphasis was an accusation, but the Countess de Mattos did not wince
under the lash. Even a coward may be brave in a hand-to-hand fight for
life; and it was only physically that she was a coward.

"You are courageous," she said, almost wholly mistress of herself now,
"and, of course, you know your own affairs best, dear girl. But I am not
so brave. This awful night has tried me severely, and has come near to
spoiling our so pleasant trip. It has sickened me of the sea and of
yachting. I shall beg to be landed as soon as convenient to you."

"It will be convenient to us when you have confessed everything in
writing," Virginia flung at her, stung into mercilessness by the woman's
brazen defiance. "Then, and not before, you may leave this yacht."

The Countess de Mattos arose from her lowly place as gracefully and with
as much dignity as such an act could be performed. While she sat on the
floor and Virginia towered over her, the enemy had too much advantage of
position. The two were of one height, and, standing, they faced each
other like contending goddesses.

"You speak in riddles," said the elder woman.

"Riddles to which you have the key."

"I do not know what you mean, except that it seems to me it is your
intention to be insolent."

"In your code, perhaps, honesty is insolence. But I do not wish to forget
that, in a way, you are my guest. I asked you to come for a purpose, I
admit; yet----"

"Ah! you admit that. Possibly you will condescend to inform me what your
purpose was?"

"My purpose was to make assurance doubly sure. To-night I have done
this."

"Evidently you do not wish me to understand you."

"Say, rather, you do not wish to understand me. I think you must do so,
in spite of yourself; but lest you should not, I will tell you. I
suspected that you were the woman whom Maxime Dalahaide was accused of
murdering. Now I _know_ that you are not the Countess de Mattos, but
Liane Devereux!"

The woman's green-gray eyes were like steel in the moonlight. "Maxime
Dalahaide; Liane Devereux," she slowly repeated. "I never heard these
names."

Virginia was struck dumb by the other's effrontery, almost frightened by
i