he vile rogue Tressady? Which is
matter for painful speculation, Martin--where?"

"Snoring, likely enough!" says I, "Not so far hence, or tramping
hither."

"If so, Martin, then Death cannot touch him, the which is out of all
reason!"

"'Tis more like the fall did not kill him, Adam."

"Had you but seen the place, shipmate! But if water won't drown him
and steel won't harm him--"

"Like you, he wears a chain-shirt, Adam, that I do know. Moreover, the
devil cherisheth his own, I've heard."

"Why here's reason, Martin, plain reason I grant, and yet--but 'tis
late and you'll be for sleep, and there's reason in that too. Come,
I'll show your bed--"

"Spare yourself--I want no bed," says I bitterly. "'Twere a luxury
wasted on the likes o' me. My couch shall be the corner yonder."

"Ah, prideful youth! 'Tis sweet to be young, Martin!" says Penfeather
with his sudden, whimsical half-smile and clapping his hand on my
shoulder. "Sleep where ye will, that corner is as good as another.
See, there stands my tuck, a Spanish blade of notable good temper, it
hath been a true friend to me many a time ere now and should be a
trusty bedfellow. As for me, I'm for a feather-bed. And, Martin,"
says he, pausing to pinch his chin and view me sideways, "if aught
should chance to me--at any time--the chart and treasure will be yours.
So good-night, comrade, and sleep sound, for 'tis like we shall wake
betimes."

Saying which he turned, slow and thoughtful, and went out, closing the
door softly behind him. As for me, being very drowsy, I wrapped myself
in my weather-worn cloak, blew out the candles and, lying down in the
corner, was presently fast asleep.

Now as I slept I dreamed that Penfeather's long rapier, standing in the
dark corner close by, was stealthily endeavouring to free itself from
its leathern scabbard with intent to skewer me to the floor as I lay;
and, striving thus to draw itself, made soft, strange noises and
rustlings insomuch that I presently woke, and staring motionless into
the darkness above, knew that these sounds were real. Somewhere close
by was a furtive whisper of sound that came and went, a soft-drawn
breath, a scraping of fingers on the panelling above me in the
darkness; and in that moment also I became aware that the lattice
yawned wide upon a square of glimmering blackness. Suddenly a
sly-creeping foot touched me unseen and then (even as the owner of this
foot tripped over me) came the