that was
got up, whether as appreciative audience at charade or theatrical, or
contributing his quotum to the sweepstake upon the daily run, diligently
organised by Israel and Judah. He passed many an evening in Captain
Cheyne's cabin, where these two cynics would sharpen their sardonic wit
upon the grindstone of their species. In short, he seemed to be laying
himself out for a good time generally, and to have it. But all the
while the iron was in his soul; for the days were going by with flying
rapidity, and each day brought the parting nearer.

The parting? Why, they had not yet met, not in reality, at least.
Well, it was better so, he told himself. He had to face the world
afresh. He was in worse plight than a year ago, infinitely worse. What
prospect did life hold out? A straggle, and a profitless one. Faith in
all things shattered and dead--what remained?

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Would you like to hear the circumstances under which I killed John
Denton?"

Mona started from the taffrail over which she had been leaning, and
turned--her heart thumping. She was alone, and it was night. She had
not heard his approach. Her first intimation of it was the voice--low,
even, and clear.

"You--you did kill him, then?" she faltered, her eyes dilating in the
starlight.

"But I did not rob him."

"Oh, could you not see? could you not see? I never believed that, never
really. Have I not shown you that much; here, since we meet again?
Tell me, tell me--did you ever love me, really love me? You are too
strong, too self-contained, too unbelieving. You do not know what it is
to love, to love really!"

She had caught both his hands, and was wringing them to and fro in a
vice-like grip, as she sobbed forth those wild, rapid sentences in a
tone that was indescribably passionate and despairing. It seemed as
though she were afraid of losing him if she relaxed her hold for a
moment. This, the first time for all these days, the first time they
had been alone together--if anybody can be said ever to be alone in so
limited a space as that afforded by a ship--she was in an agony of dread
lest the opportunity should slip away from her, never to recur. The
stem of one of the ship's boats, swung in upon chocks, made, with the
taffrail, quite a snap little corner. The decks were nearly deserted,
for there had been heavy tropical showers throughout the day, rendering