be by her side when she went to the man whom he had so nobly helped to
save.

But Roger refused. "No, dear," he said. "Soon we shall be in the harbour
at Samoa. There is plenty to do. I want to be on hand with George to do
it. Let Dr. Grayle take you to Maxime. He will know how long and how
much it is best for him to talk."

"We will be in harbour so soon?" exclaimed Virginia. "The Countess! She
will try to get away, you know."

"She'll try in vain," responded Roger. "We won't give her a boat."

"But there'll be ships and boats in the harbour. She may call for help,
and make us trouble."

"I'll see to her," said Roger. "I don't think we shall get much good out
of detaining her; but we've gone so far now, we may as well go a little
further."

They were talking in the saloon, out of which the cabins opened, but they
had spoken in low voices, guarding against being overheard. Nor could
they have been overheard, unless by some one making a special effort to
listen. Such an effort the Countess de Mattos was making. She had kept to
her cabin since the eventful night of the escape from New Caledonia, and
had demanded her meals and other attentions with the air of an insulted
queen claiming her just rights. She always bent herself eagerly to
listen when she heard the murmur of voices in the saloon, especially if
they seemed to be suppressed. She did not now catch every word, but she
heard "the harbour of Samoa"; "soon in"; "the Countess--try to get away";
"call for help--make us trouble"; "I'll see to her"; and she pressed her
lips together in fierce anger, her delicate nostrils quivering.

From her porthole she had not seen the land in sight, and had had no
means of knowing that the time for her to act was so near at hand. Since
the night of her terrible shock, she had revolved many plans in her mind,
but the only one upon which she had definitely decided was to leave the
_Bella Cuba_ at all costs, and as soon as possible. Her nerves were not
in a state to stand an indefinite strain, and she realized that she could
not bear much more. Even with the chlorodyne and absinthe she hardly
slept now, and she scarcely cared to project her thoughts beyond the time
of escape from the hateful yacht.

Now, she had one thing for which to thank Virginia Beverly; the
suggestion that she should call for help when the _Bella Cuba_ had
steamed into the harbour of Samoa. At once her excitable brain seized the
picturesqueness of a drama