. There was a nasty sea running then, and it blew
viciously hard next day. There were three men in the other."

"Ah," said Agatha, "they were drowned?"

Wyllard made a little forceful gesture. "I'm not quite sure. That's
the trouble. At least, the boat was nowhere on the beach next day, and
it's difficult to see how they could have faced the sea that piled up
when the gale came down. In all probability, they had an oar short,
and she rolled them out when a comber broke upon her in the darkness."
The girl saw him close one hand tight as he added, "If one only knew!"

"What would have befallen them if they'd got ashore?"

"It's difficult to say. In a general way, they'd have been handed over
to the Russian authorities. Still, sealers poaching up there have
simply disappeared."

He stopped again, and glanced out at the gathering darkness. "Now," he
added, "you see why I hate the fog."

"But you couldn't help it," said Agatha.

"Well," said Wyllard, "I asked for volunteers, and the money that's now
mine came out of those schooners. It's just possible those men are
living still--somewhere in Northern Asia. I only know they
disappeared."

Then he abruptly commenced to talk of something else, and by and bye
Agatha went down to the saloon, where Miss Rawlinson, who had not been
much in evidence during the voyage, presently made her appearance.

"Aren't you going into the music-room to play for Mr. Wyllard--as
usual?" she said.

Agatha was almost disconcerted. She had fallen into the habit of
spending half an hour or longer in the little music-room every evening,
with Wyllard standing near the piano; but now her companion's question
seemed to place a significance upon the fact.

"No," she said, "I don't think I am."

"Then the rest of them will wonder it you have fallen out with him."

"Fallen out with him?"

Winifred laughed. "They've naturally been watching both of you, and,
in a general way, there's only one decision they could have arrived at."

Agatha flushed a little, but her companion went on:

"I don't mind admitting that if a man of that kind was to fall in love
with me, I'd black his boots for him," she said. Then she added, with
a whimsically rueful gesture, "Still, it's most unlikely."

Agatha looked at her with a little glint in her eyes.

"He is merely Gregory's deputy," she said, with a sub-conscious feeling
that the epithet was not a remarkably fortunate one. "In that
connecti