when at one period
we passed over the lights of some Lowland settlement, he flung us
again into invisibility until we were beyond range.

I had, during these hours, ample opportunity to whisper with Jetta.
But there was so little for us to say. I knew all of Spawn's and
Perona's plot. Both were dead: it was De Boer with whom we were
menaced now. And as I saw his huge figure lounging at his table, and
his frowning, intent face, the vision of the aged, futile Perona, who
had previously been my adversary, seemed inoffensive indeed.

De Boer obviously was pleased with himself. He had stolen half a
million dollars of treasure, and was making off with it to his base in
the depths. He would smuggle these ingots into the world markets at
his convenience; months from now, probably. Meanwhile, what did he
intend to do with me? And Jetta? Ransom me? I wondered how he could
manage it. And the thought pounded me. What about Jetta? I felt now
that she was all the world to me. Her safety, beyond any thought of
smugglers or treasure, was all that concerned me. But what was I
going to do about it?

* * * * *

I pressed her hand. "Jetta, you're not too frightened, are you?"

"No, Philip."

Her mind, I think, was constantly on her father, lying dead back there
on his garden path. I had not spoken of him, save once. She threatened
instant tears, and I stopped.

"Do not be too frightened. We'll get out of this."

"Yes."

"He can't escape. Jetta; he can't hide. Why, in a day or so all the
patrols of the United States Lowland Service will be after us!"

But if the patrol-ships assailed De Boer, if he found things going
badly--he could so easily kill Jetta and me. He might be caught, but
we would never come through it alive.

My thoughts drifted along, arriving nowhere, just circling in the same
futile rounds. I was aware of Jetta falling asleep beside me, her face
against my shoulder, her fingers clutching mine. She looked like a
half grown, slender, ragged boy. But her woman's hair lay thick on my
arm, and one of the dark tresses fell to my hand. I turned my fingers
in it. This strange little woman. Was my love for her foredoomed to
end in tragedy? I swore then that I would not let it be so.

CHAPTER XIV

_Jetta Takes a Hand_

I came from my reverie to find De Boer before me. He was standing with
legs planted wide, arms folded across his deep chest, and on his face
an ironic smile.

"So t