n he heard the putt-putt of a motor launch. He laid the book on
the table and reached for a black cigar, which he lit and began to puff
quickly. Louder grew the panting of the motor. It stopped abruptly. Cleigh
heard a call or two, then the creaking of the ladder. Two minutes later a
man limped into the salon. He tossed his sou'wester to the floor and
followed it with the smelly oilskin.

"Hello, Cleigh! Devil of a night!"

"Have a peg?" asked Cleigh.

"Never touch the stuff."

"That's so; I had forgotten."

Cleigh never looked upon this man's face without recalling del Sarto's
John the Baptist--supposing John had reached forty by the way of reckless
passions. The extraordinary beauty was still there, but as though behind a
blurred pane of glass.

"Well?" said Cleigh, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"There's the devil to pay--all in a half hour."

"You haven't got it?" Cleigh blazed out.

"Morrissy--one of the squarest chaps in the world--ran amuck the last
minute. Tried to double-cross me, and in the rough-and-tumble that
followed he was more or less banged up. We hurried him to a hospital,
where he lies unconscious."

"But the beads!"

"Either he dropped them in the gutter, or they repose on the floor of a
Chinese shop in Woosung Road. I'll be there bright and early--never you
fear. Don't know what got into Morrissy. Of course I'll look him up in the
morning."

"Thousands of miles--to hear a yarn like this!"

"Cleigh, we've done business for nearly twenty years. You can't point out
an instance where I ever broke my word."

"I know," grumbled Cleigh. "But I've gone to all this trouble, getting a
crew and all that. And now you tell me you've let the beads slip through
your fingers!"

"Pshaw! You'd have put the yacht into commission if you'd never heard from
me. You were crazy to get to sea again. Any trouble picking up the crew?"

"No. But only four of the old crew--Captain Newton, of course, and Chief
Engineer Svenson, Donaldson, and Morley. Still, it's the best crew I ever
had: young fellows off warships and transports, looking for comfortable
berths and a little adventure that won't entail hunting periscopes."

"Plenty of coal?"

"Trust me for that. Four hundred tons in Manila, and I shan't need more
than a bucketful."

"Who drew the plans for this yacht?" asked Cunningham, with a roving
glance.

"I did."

"Humph! Why didn't you leave the job to someone who knew how? It's a