that you knew nothing about Edwards."

"Edwards?" repeated Slade inquiringly. His mind, still absorbed in the
events which he had been relating, groped backward.

Trendon came to his aid. "Barnett asked you about him, you remember. It
was when you recovered consciousness. Our ensign. Took over charge of the
_Laughing Lass_."

"Oh, of course. I was a little dazed, I fancy."

"We put Mr. Edwards aboard when we first picked up the deserted schooner,"
explained the captain.

"Pardon me," said the other. "My head doesn't seem to work quite right
yet. Just a moment, please." He sat silent, with closed eyes. "You say you
picked up the _Laughing Lass_. When?" he asked presently.

"Four--five--six days ago, the first time."

"Then you put out the fire."

The circle closed in on Slade, with an unconscious hitching forward of
chairs. He had fixed his eyes on the captain. His mouth worked. Obviously
he was under a tensity of endeavour in keeping his faculties set to the
problem. The surgeon watched him, frowning.

"There was no fire," said the captain.

Slade leaped in his chair. "No fire! But I saw her, I tell you. When I
went overboard she was one living flame!"

"You landed in the small boat. Knocked you senseless," said Trendon.
"Concussion of the brain. Idea of flame might have been a retroactive
hallucination."

"Retroactive rot," cried the other. "I beg your pardon, Dr. Trendon. But
if you'd seen her as I saw her--Barnett!"

He turned in appeal to his old acquaintance.

"There was no fire, Slade," replied the executive officer gently. "No sign
of fire that we could find, except that the starboard rail was blistered."

"Oh, that was from the volcano," said Slade. "That was nothing."

"It was all there was," returned Barnett.

"Just let me run this thing over," said the free lance slowly. "You found
the schooner. She wasn't afire. She didn't even seem to have been afire.
You put a crew aboard under your ensign, Edwards. Storm separated you from
her. You picked her up again deserted. Is that right?"

"Day before yesterday morning."

"Then," cried the other excitedly, "the fire was smouldering all the time.
It broke out and your men took to the water."

"Impossible," said Barnett.

"Fiddlesticks!" said the more downright surgeon.

"I hardly think Mr. Edwards would be driven overboard by a fire which did
not even scorch his ship," suggested the captain mildly.

"It drove our lot overboard," insisted Sl