saving the woman he loved from her enemies.

Moreover, his claim to the treasure would then be a valid one. The man
was no fool. What he did must be done quickly. There lay before him one
safe road. Since that was the path he desired above all things to
follow, it was sure he would set out on it without delay.

Her scruples had hitherto held him back, because it would be better she
should come of her own accord to him. But these could not hold him many
hours longer.

The masterful insistence of the man had told me that, but no more
plainly than his mounting passion.

I sat down on the box and waited. In that dark, stuffy hole the heat was
intense. The odor of food decomposing in the moisture of the tropics did
not add to my comfort.

Sitting in cushioned chairs in club rooms with a surfeit of comfort
within reach, men have argued in my presence that there is no such thing
as luck. Men win because of merit; they fail only if there is some lack
in themselves.

This is a pleasant gospel for those who have found success, but it does
not happen to be true. Take my own case here. How could I foresee that a
barefooted, half-naked black cook would come into the storeroom to get a
pan of rice for next day's dinner?

Or, as I lay crouched beside a box in the shadows beyond the dim circle
illumined by his candle, how could I know whether it were best to
announce myself or lie still?

I submit that the part of wisdom was to let the fellow go in peace, and
this I did.

But as he turned the light for an instant swept across me. He gave a
shriek and flung away both the candle and the pan of rice, bolting for
the door. I called to him to stop. For answer he slammed the door--_and
locked it_. Nor did my calls stay the slap of his retreating feet. I was
caught fast as a rat in a trap.

I certainly had spilt the fat into the fire this time. Inside of five
minutes the passage outside was full of men. But during that time I had
been an active Irishman. In front of me and around me I had piled a
barrier of boxes and barrels.

"Who's in there?" Bothwell called.

I fired through the door. Some one groaned. There was a sudden scurry of
retreating footsteps, followed by whisperings at the end of the passage.
These became imperative, rose and fell abruptly, so that I judged there
was a division of counsel.

Presently Bothwell raised his voice and spoke again.

"We've got you, whoever you are. My friend, you'll have a sick time