uld not find
one word to the purpose amongst us--if indeed there existed a word that
could solve that problem. We pondered, and our hearts sank. We felt as
though we three had been called to the very gate of Infernal Regions to
judge, to decide the fate of a wanderer coming suddenly from a world of
sunshine and illusions.

"By Jove, he seems to have a great idea of our power," whispered Hollis,
hopelessly. And then again there was a silence, the feeble plash of
water, the steady tick of chronometers. Jackson, with bare arms crossed,
leaned his shoulders against the bulkhead of the cabin. He was bending
his head under the deck beam; his fair beard spread out magnificently
over his chest; he looked colossal, ineffectual, and mild. There was
something lugubrious in the aspect of the cabin; the air in it seemed
to become slowly charged with the cruel chill of helplessness, with
the pitiless anger of egoism against the incomprehensible form of an
intruding pain. We had no idea what to do; we began to resent bitterly
the hard necessity to get rid of him.

Hollis mused, muttered suddenly with a short laugh, "Strength . . .
Protection . . . Charm." He slipped off the table and left the cuddy
without a look at us. It seemed a base desertion. Jackson and I
exchanged indignant glances. We could hear him rummaging in his
pigeon-hole of a cabin. Was the fellow actually going to bed? Karain
sighed. It was intolerable!

Then Hollis reappeared, holding in both hands a small leather box. He
put it down gently on the table and looked at us with a queer gasp,
we thought, as though he had from some cause become speechless for a
moment, or were ethically uncertain about producing that box. But in
an instant the insolent and unerring wisdom of his youth gave him the
needed courage. He said, as he unlocked the box with a very small key,
"Look as solemn as you can, you fellows."

Probably we looked only surprised and stupid, for he glanced over his
shoulder, and said angrily--

"This is no play; I am going to do something for him. Look serious.
Confound it! . . . Can't you lie a little . . . for a friend!"

Karain seemed to take no notice of us, but when Hollis threw open the
lid of the box his eyes flew to it--and so did ours. The quilted crimson
satin of the inside put a violent patch of colour into the sombre
atmosphere; it was something positive to look at--it was fascinating.

VI

Hollis looked smiling into the box. He had lat