"Standoffish be darned! Never yet saw the little bit of all right that
could stand off Sam Marks. I'm a winner, I am, an' don' you forget it.
Just watch my splash."

I must say the man was expensively dressed in a flashy way. His oily,
pimple-garnished face wreathed itself in a smirk of patronising
familiarity, and with the bow of a dancing master he advanced. I saw her
give a quick start, bite her lip and shrink back. "Good for you, little
girl," I thought. But the man was in no way put out.

"Say, Sis, it's all right. Just want to interdooce you to a gentleman
fren' o' mine."

The girl gazed at him, and her dilated eyes were eloquent of fear and
distrust. It minded me of the panic of a fawn run down by the hunter, so
that I found myself trembling in sympathy. A startled moment she gazed;
then swiftly she turned her back.

This was too much for Marks. He flushed angrily.

"Say! what's the matter with you? Come off the perch there. Ain't we
good enough to associate with you? Who the devil are you, anyhow?"

His face was growing red and aggressive. He closed in on her. He laid a
rough hand on her shoulder. Thinking the thing had gone far enough I
stepped forward to interfere, when the unexpected happened.

Suddenly the old man had risen to his feet, and it was a surprise to me
how tall he was. Into his face there had come the ghost of ancient power
and command. His eyes blazed with wrath, and his clenched fist was
raised high in anathema. Then it came swiftly down on the head of Marks,
crushing his stiff hat tightly over his eyes.

The climax was ludicrous in a way. There was a roar of laughter, and
hearing it Marks spluttered as he freed himself. With a curse of rage he
would have rushed the old man, but a great hand seized him by the
shoulder. It was the grim, taciturn Hewson, and judging by the way his
captive squirmed, his grip must have been peculiarly vise-like. The old
man was pale as death, the girl crying, the passengers crowding round.
Every one was gabbling and curious, so feeling I could do no good, I
went below.

What was there about this slip of a girl that interested me so? Ever and
anon I found myself thinking of her. Was it the conversation I had
overheard? Was it the mystery that seemed to surround her? Was it the
irrepressible instinct of my heart for the romance of life? With the old
man, despite our stateroom propinquity, I had made no advances. With the
girl I had passed no further wor