ood a man as
my neighbor--still young? Come, let us make an end of the
heavy-villain-and-hero business. You, my dear Sedgwick, shall stand up
and give the bride away. That is to say, you shall stand at your
porthole. You'll find rice in a sack to scatter if you will. We want you
to enjoy yourself. Don't we, Evie?" Bothwell jeered blithely.

"You devil from hell!"

"Pooh! Be reasonable, man. We can't both marry the maid, and by your
leave I think the best man wins. Abrupt I may be, but every _Katherine_
is the better for her _Petruchio_." He turned to her, dropping his irony
for tones of curt command. "I'll be back in twenty minutes with the
parson. Be ready then."

With that he turned on his heel and left, locking the door behind him.

CHAPTER XXV

A RESCUE

Even now when it is only a memory I do not like to look back upon that
twenty minutes. My poor girl was hysterical, but decided. Neither
argument nor entreaty could move her from her resolution to save my
life, no matter what the cost. I pleaded in vain.

"I can't let you die, Jack--I can't--I can't." So she answered all my
appeals, with a kind of hopeless despair that went straight to my heart.

Through my remonstrances there broke a high-pitched voice jabbering
something in Spanish of a sort. The sound of running footsteps on the
deck above came to us. Some one called a warning.

"Keep back there or we'll fire!"

Then my heart leaped, for across the water came the cool, steady voice
of Blythe.

"My man, I want to talk with Bothwell."

More feet pattered back and forth on the deck, and among the hurrying
steps was one sharp and strong.

"Good evening, Captain Blythe. You're rather late for a call, aren't
you? Mr. Sedgwick was in better time. We have to thank him for an hour's
pleasant entertainment."

I recognized the voice as belonging to Bothwell.

"If you've hurt a hair of his head I'll hold you personally to account.
Unless you want me to board your schooner you will at once release Mr.
Sedgwick and Miss Wallace."

"Miss Wallace has practically ceased to exist," the Russian drawled.

"What do you mean?"

"I shall have the honor to send you cards, captain. Miss Wallace has
become my wife."

I stuck my head out of the porthole and shouted. "That's a lie, Sam.
You're just in time to save her."

"Are you a prisoner, Jack?"

"Yes. So is she. In the next cabin." Some one stepped quickly across the
deck and leaned over the rail abo