rs. Johns came on deck once or twice while I was there, but she chose
to ignore me. The stewardess, however, was not so partisan, and, the
day before we met the Buenos Aires, she spent a little time on deck,
leaning against the rail and watching me with alert black eyes.

"What are you going to do when you get to land, Mr. Captain Leslie?"
she asked. "Are you going to put us all in prison?"

"That's as may be," I evaded. She was a pretty little woman, plump and
dark, and she slid her hand along the rail until it touched mine.
Whereon, I did the thing she was expecting, and put my fingers over
hers. She flushed a little, and dimpled.

"You are human, aren't you?" she asked archly. "I am not afraid of
you."

"No one is, I am sure."

"Silly! Why, they are all afraid of you, down there." She jerked her
head toward the after house. "They want to offer you something, but
none of them will do it."

"Offer me something?"

She came a little closer, so that her round shoulder touched mine.

"Why not? You need money, I take it. And that's the one thing they
have--money."

I began to understand her.

"I see," I said slowly. "They want to bribe me."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"That is a nasty word. They might wish to buy--a key or two that you
carry."

"The storeroom key, of course. But what other?"

She looked around--we were alone. A light breeze filled the sails and
flicked the end of a scarf she wore against my face.

"The key to the captain's cabin," she said, very low.

That was what they wished to buy: the incriminating key to the
storeroom, found on Turner's floor, and access to the axe, with its
telltale prints on the handle.

The stewardess saw my face harden, and put her hand on my arm.

"Now I am afraid of you!" she cried: "When you look like that!"

"Mrs. Sloane," I said, "I do not know that you were asked to do this--I
think not. But if you were, say for me what I am willing to say for
myself: I shall tell what I know, and there is not money enough in the
world to prevent my telling it straight. The right man is going to be
punished, and the key to the storeroom will be given to the police, and
to no one else."

"But--the other key?"

"That is not in my keeping."

"I do not believe you!"

"I am sorry," I said shortly. "As a matter of fact, Burns has that."

By the look of triumph in her eyes I knew I had told her what she
wanted to know. She went below soon after, and