dly, "I'd like to get at this
thing now. I'm in excellent understanding, I assure you."

"Very well. I am speaking of the man who acted as mate in the _Laughing
Lass_. The journalist who--good heavens! What arrant stupidity! I have to
beg your pardon, Mr. Darrow. It has just occurred to me. He called himself
Eagen with you."

"Eagen! What is this? Is Eagen alive?"

"And on this ship. We picked him up in an open boat."

"And you say he calls himself Slade?"

"He is Ralph Slade, adventurer and journalist. Mr. Barnett knows him and
vouches for him."

"And he was on our island under an assumed name," said Darrow in tones
that had the smoothness and the rasp of silk. "Rather annoying. Not good
form, quite, even for a pirate."

"Yet, I believe he saved your life," suggested the captain.

Darrow looked up sharply. "Why, yes," he admitted. "So he did. I had
hoped--" He checked himself. "I had thought that all of the crew went the
same way. You didn't find any of the others?"

"None."

Darrow got to his feet. "I think I'd like to see Eagen--Slade--whatever he
calls himself."

"I don't know," began the captain. "It might not be--" He hesitated and
stopped.

Darrow drew back a little, misinterpreting the other's attitude. "Do I
understand that I am under restraint?" he asked stiffly.

"Certainly not. Why should you be?"

"Well," returned the other contemplatively, "it really might be regarded
as a subject for investigation. Of course I know only a small part of it.
But there have certainly been suspicious circumstances. Piracy there has
been: no doubt of that. Murder, too, if my intuitions are not at fault. Or
at least, a disappearance to be accounted for. Robbery can't be denied.
And there's a dead body or two to be properly accredited." He looked the
captain in the eye.

"Well?"

"You'll find my story highly unsatisfactory in detail, I fancy. I merely
want to know whether I'm to present it as a defence, or only an
explanation."

"We shall be glad to hear your story when you are ready to tell it--after
you have seen Mr. Slade."

"Thank you," said Darrow simply. "You have heard his?"

"Yes. It needs filling in."

"When may I see him?"

"That's for Dr. Trendon to say. He came to us almost dead. I'll find out."

The surgeon reported Slade much better, but all a-quiver with excitement.

"Hate to put the strain on him," said he. "But he'll be in a fever till he
gets this thing off his mind. Send Mr. Darr