"

"I see," said Jean softly. "We'll get married----" then stopped.

He looked at her and frowned.

"Isn't that your idea, too?" he asked.

"Married? Yes, that's my idea, too. It seems a queer uninteresting way
of finishing things, doesn't it, and yet I suppose it isn't."

He had resumed his work and was leaning far over the bow intent upon his
labour. Suddenly she spun the wheel round and the launch heeled over to
starboard. For a second it seemed that Marcus Stepney could not maintain
his balance against that unexpected impetus, but by a superhuman effort
he kicked himself back to safety, and stared at her with a blanched
face.

"Why did you do that?" he asked hoarsely. "You nearly had me overboard."

"There was a porpoise lying on the surface of the sea, asleep, I
think," she said quietly. "I'm very sorry, Marcus, but I didn't know
that it would throw you off your balance."

He looked round for the sleeping fish but it had disappeared.

"You told me to avoid them, you know," she said apologetically. "Did I
really put you in any danger?"

He licked his dry lips, picked up the paint-pot, and threw it into the
sea.

"We'll leave this," he said, "until we are beached. You gave me a scare,
Jean."

"I'm dreadfully sorry. Come here, and sit by me."

She moved to allow him room, and he sat down by her, taking the wheel
from her hand.

On the horizon the high lands of northern Africa were showing their
saw-edge outlines.

"That is Morocco," he pointed out to her. "I propose giving Gibraltar a
wide berth, and following the coast line to Tangier."

"Tangier wouldn't be a bad place to land if there weren't two of us," he
went on. "It is our being together in this yacht that is likely to cause
suspicion. You could easily pretend that you'd come over from Gibraltar,
and the port authorities there are pretty slack."

"Or if we could land on the coast," he suggested. "There's a good
landing, and we could follow the beach down, and turn up in Tangier in
the morning--all sorts of oddments turn up in Tangier without exciting
suspicion."

She was looking out over the sea with a queer expression in her face.

"Morocco!" she said softly. "Morocco--I hadn't thought of that!"

They had a fright soon after. A grey shape came racing out of the
darkening east, and Stepney put his helm over as the destroyer smashed
past on her way to Gibraltar.

He watched the stern light disappearing, then it suddenly turned and
pre