she saw
that he, too, had been handsome in his youth. Why had he struck Denny on
the mouth? What had the son done so to enrage the father? Some woman! And
where had she met the man? Oh, she was certain that she had encountered
him before! But for the present the gate to recollection refused to swing
outward. Gently she laid the beautiful book on his knees and stole over to
the rail. For a while she watched the flying fish.

Then came one of those impulses which keep human beings from becoming half
gods--a wrong impulse, surrendered to immediately, unweighed, unanalyzed,
unchallenged. The father asleep, the son amusing himself with the
phonograph, she was now unobserved by her guardians; and so she put into
execution the thought that had been urging and intriguing her since the
strange voyage began--a visit to the chart house. She wanted to ask
Cunningham some questions. He would know something about the Cleighs.

The port door to the chart house was open, latched back against the side.
She hesitated for a moment outside the high-beamed threshold--hesitated
because Captain Newton was not visible. The wheelman was alone. Obliquely
she saw Cunningham, Cleve, and a third man seated round a table which was
littered. This third man sat facing the port door, and sensing her
presence he looked up. Rather attractive until one noted the thin, hard
lips, the brilliant blue eyes. At the sight of Jane something flitted over
his face, and Jane knew that he was bad.

"What's the matter, Flint?" asked Cunningham, observing the other's
abstraction.

"We have a visitor," answered Flint.

Cunningham spun his chair round and jumped to his feet.

"Miss Norman? Come in, come in! Anything you need?" he asked with lively
interest.

"I should like to ask you some questions, Mr. Cunningham."

"Oh! Well, if I can answer them, I will."

He looked significantly at his companions, who rose and left the house by
the starboard door.

"They can't keep away from him, can they?" said Flint, cynically.
"Slue-Foot has the come-hither, sure enough. I had an idea she'd be hiking
this way the first chance she got."

"You haven't the right dope this trip," replied Cleve. "The contract
reads: Hands off women and booze."

"Psalm-singing pirates! We'll be having prayers Sunday. But that woman is
my style."

"Better begin digging up a prayer if you've got that bug in your head. If
you make any fool play in that direction Cunningham will break you.