atched the artist at work at first hand. I
might claim the honour, indeed, of being one of the lumps of clay upon
which he sought to model his design. Surely an authentic witness this;
and I dare say the normal artist's material--since we are fond of saying
he blows the breath of life into it--might not join in the universal
praise bestowed upon its creator, but might indulge in ironic
contemplation of its own birth-pangs and the strange fortunes of its
pre-natal existence!

"He did not appear, however, as my stimulated imagination had pictured
him appearing, to dominate the situation on the _Manola_ and preoccupy
us all with his personality and hypothetical power. Like a higher power,
he remained invisible, and Captain Evans, going ashore in a boat with
Artemisia and her belongings around him, was the first to encounter him
in Gruenbaum's office. Encountered him, and came back bursting with the
most astonishing tidings. I was sitting in my room that evening after
tea, having a quiet pipe and a book, when Jack came down.

"'Come along to my room, Fred,' he said, blowing clouds from his cigar.
'I want to talk to you.'

"'Why not here?' I suggested.

"'No, I want the wife to hear it, too. The gel's gone and the kid's
asleep. Come along.'

"And highly mystified, I went along. It seemed like scandal, and I am
not above such things once in a way, as you know. I went along, and
found Mrs. Evans in her husband's cabin sewing. Nothing would do but I
must have a cigar, and the angel child having been dosed with what her
mother called 'chempeen', I had to have a glass of that, too. Jack was
flushed and excited, and sat down beside me on the red plush settee.

"'What do you say,' he began, in a low, husky tone, 'to a job ashore,
Fred?'

"So that was it. The age-old chimera of a 'job ashore.' I looked at Mrs.
Evans. Her lips were shut to a thin line. I could see protest and
dissent in every line of her body.

"'For you or for me?' I enquired, softly.

"'For me, and p'raps for you, too, if you play your cards. It's like
this': and he began a long and complicated explanation. The gel's
father, as he called Macedoine, had got the job of secretary to the
company and somehow didn't hit it off with old Gruenbaum, who was
resident concessionaire. Of course I knew Gruenbaum's father, who had
been the original prospector when the island was Turkish, sold most of
his holdings to the French company, but kept a tenth which descended