eck above his head, and distinguish the outlines of three
other berths, apparently similar to his own. The only sounds that broke
the silence were the gurgling of the water below him, and the Tap tap,
Tap tap, of Pine's hammers at work upon the new partition. By and by the
noise of these hammers ceased, and then the sick man could hear gasps,
and moans, and mutterings--the signs that his companions yet lived.

All at once a voice called out, "Of course his bills are worth four
hundred pounds; but, my good sir, four hundred pounds to a man in my
position is not worth the getting. Why, I've given four hundred pounds
for a freak of my girl Sarah! Is it right, eh, Jezebel? She's a
good girl, though, as girls go. Mrs. Lionel Crofton, of the Crofts,
Sevenoaks, Kent--Sevenoaks, Kent--Seven----"

A gleam of light broke in on the darkness which wrapped Rufus Dawes's
tortured brain. The man was John Rex, his berth mate. With an effort he
spoke.

"Rex!"

"Yes, yes. I'm coming; don't be in a hurry. The sentry's safe, and the
howitzer is but five paces from the door. A rush upon deck, lads, and
she's ours! That is, mine. Mine and my wife's, Mrs. Lionel Crofton,
of Seven Crofts, no oaks--Sarah Purfoy, lady's-maid and nurse--ha!
ha!--lady's-maid and nurse!"

This last sentence contained the name-clue to the labyrinth in which
Rufus Dawes's bewildered intellects were wandering. "Sarah Purfoy!"
He remembered now each detail of the conversation he had so strangely
overheard, and how imperative it was that he should, without delay,
reveal the plot that threatened the ship. How that plot was to be
carried out, he did not pause to consider; he was conscious that he was
hanging over the brink of delirium, and that, unless he made himself
understood before his senses utterly deserted him, all was lost.

He attempted to rise, but found that his fever-thralled limbs refused to
obey the impulse of his will. He made an effort to speak, but his tongue
clove to the roof of his mouth, and his jaws stuck together. He could
not raise a finger nor utter a sound. The boards over his head waved
like a shaken sheet, and the cabin whirled round, while the patch of
light at his feet bobbed up and down like the reflection from a wavering
candle. He closed his eyes with a terrible sigh of despair, and resigned
himself to his fate. At that instant the sound of hammering ceased, and
the door opened. It was six o'clock, and Pine had come to have a last
lo