he became
commandant, an answerable factor. He began to plan.

What kind of place had they come to?--was it big or small?--inhabited,
or deserted? All this would have to be ascertained, later. Meanwhile,
temporary headquarters were needed; he would erect a tent. The spar and
boom served for the ridge and front poles, the sail for the canvas
covering, the sheet and halyards for the restraining lines. Sonia
Turgeinov again watched him; her interest was now of that vague kind she
had sometimes experienced when the manager appeared on a darkened stage,
with a fresh crackling manuscript. Then she had lolled back and listened
to the first reading. She would have lolled back now--for the air was
soporific--but, instead, she started suddenly. The old wound on Mr.
Heatherbloom's head, heretofore concealed by the cap Francois had
procured for him, had reopened as he exerted himself; he raised his hand
quickly and seemed a little at a loss. She stepped to him at once.

"The scarf, Monsieur?"

"Thank you." He took it absently.

"It serves divers purposes," she murmured. And Mr. Heatherbloom,
remembering the more violent employment he had found for it the night
before, flushed slightly.

She added delicate emphasis to her remark by assisting him. With her own
fingers she tied a knot, and rather painstakingly spread out the ends.
He endured grimly. Miss Dalrymple appeared not to have observed the
episode but, of course, it had in reality been all quite fully revealed
to her. It was in keeping with certain circumstances of the past that
the Russian woman should not be unmindful of him, her confrere in the
conspiracy. That much was patent; but other happenings were not so
easily reconciled. What had taken place on the deck of the _Nevski_ in
those breathless last few moments as they were escaping, was in ill
conformity with those amicable relations which should have existed
between the two. This man's presence in the boat, in the place of
Francois, could be explained by no logical process with the premises she
had at her command.

The bandage possessed a subtly weird and bizarre interest for the young
girl. He had been injured. How? For what reason? Betty Dalrymple's mind
swept, seemingly without very definite cause, to another scene, one of
violence. Again she heard the crashing of glass and saw forms leaping
into the cabin. Her thoughts reverted, on the instant, to the unknown
helper she had been obliged to leave behind. Some