Sitting with bowed head and
sombre eyes, Lanyard thought the matter over a little, indifferent to
the looks of triumph being exchanged above his head.

"Obviously, it would seem, you have not gone to all this trouble--lured
me aboard this yacht--merely to amuse yourselves at my expense and then
knock me on the head."

"Absurd!" Liane declared indignantly. "As if I would permit such a
thing, who owe you so much!"

"Or look at it this way, monsieur," Monk put in with a courtly gesture:
"When one has an adversary whom one respects, one wisely prefers to
have him where one can watch him."

"That's just it," Phinuit amended: "Out of our sight, you'd be on our
nerves, forever pulling the Popinot stunt, springing some dirty
surprise on us. But here, as our guest--!"

"More than that," said Liane with her most killing glance for Lanyard:
"a dear friend."

But Lanyard was not to be put off by fair words and flattery.

"No," he said gravely: "but there is some deeper motive..."

He sought Phinuit's eyes, and Phinuit unexpectedly gave him an open-faced
return.

"There is," he stated frankly.

"Then why not tell me--?"

"All in good time. And there'll be plenty of that; the Sybarite is no
Mauretania. When you know us better and have learned to like us..."

"I make no promises."

"We ask none. Only your pistol..."

"Well, monsieur: my pistol?"

"It makes our association seem so formal--don't you think?--so
constrained. Come, Mr. Lanyard! be reasonable. What is a pistol between
friends?"

Lanyard shrugged, sighed, and produced the weapon.

"Really!" he said, handing it over to Monk--"how could anyone resist
such disarming expressions?"

The captain thanked him solemnly and put the weapon away in his safe,
together with the steel despatch-box and Liane Delorme's personal
treasure of precious stones.

XXI

SOUNDINGS

With characteristic abruptness Liane Delorme announced that she was
sleepy, it had been for her a most fatiguing day. Captain Monk rang for
the stewardess and gallantly escorted the lady to her door. Lanyard got
up with Phinuit to bow her out, but instead of following her suit
helped himself to a long whiskey and soda, with loving deliberation
selected, trimmed and lighted a cigar, and settled down into his chair
as one prepared to make a night of it.

"You never sleep, no?" Phinuit enquired in a spirit of civil
solicitude.

"Desolated if I discommode you, monsieur," Lanyard replie