r a moment, then
looked about. He comprehended at once.

With easy dignity he swung his bare feet to the deck and made for the
companion; never a second glance at either his father or Cunningham.

"Chip of the old block!" observed Cunningham. "You two! On my word, I
never saw two bigger fools in all my time! What's it about? What the devil
did he do--murder someone, rob the office safe, or marry Tottie Lightfoot?
And Lord, how you both love me! And how much more you'll love me when I
become the dear departed!"

Cleigh, understanding that the situation was a creation of pure malice on
Cunningham's part--Cleigh wheeled and resumed his tramp round the deck.

Cunningham plowed his fingers through his hair, gripped and pulled it in a
kind of ecstasy. Cleigh's phiz. The memory of it would keep him in good
humour all day. After all, there was a lot of good sport in the world. The
days were all right. It was only in the quiet vigils of the night that the
uninvited thought intruded. On board the old Dutch tramp he would sleep
o'nights, and the past would present only a dull edge.

If the atoll had cocoanut palms, hang it, he would build a shack and make
it his winter home! _Dolce far niente!_ Maybe he might take up the brush
again and do a little amateur painting. Yes, in the daytime the old top
wasn't so bad. He hoped he would have no more nonsense from Flint. A surly
beggar, but a necessary pawn in the game.

Pearls! Some to sell and some to play with. Lovely, tenderly beautiful
pearls--a rope of them round Jane Norman's throat. He slid off the chair.
As a fool, he hung in the same gallery as the Cleighs.

Cleigh ate his breakfast alone. Upon inquiry he learned that Jane was
indisposed and that Dennison had gone into the pantry and picked up his
breakfast there. Cleigh found the day unspeakably dull. He read, played
the phonograph, and tried all the solitaires he knew; but a hundred times
he sensed the want of the pleasant voice of the girl in his ears.

What would she be demanding of him as a reparation? He was always sifting
this query about, now on this side, now on that, without getting anywhere.
Not money. What then?

That night both Jane and Dennison came in to dinner. Cleigh saw instantly
that something was amiss. The boy's face was gloomy and his lips locked,
and the girl's mouth was set and cheerless. Cleigh was fired by curiosity
to ascertain the trouble, but here again was an impasse.

"I'm sorry I spoke s