the task; but--but I will do my best. Only--only," her voice
sank, "if--if the monster cannot be held, I will kill him."

"I hope you do."

"I shall! If the beast lays hands on me he--he pays the price. I could
not do otherwise. Geoffry Carlyle--I am a Fairfax."

Satisfied with my mission, and confident nothing more need be said, I
arose to my feet.

"Then we can do nothing further, until I learn the disposition of the
crew," I said quietly. "Estada is not likely to resort to extreme
measures at present. He has two objects before him---to permit Sanchez
to die of his wounds, if that is at all probable; and to win the men
by some successful capture. These fellows only retain command by
success. The taking of a rich ship will make Estada a hero, while a
defeat would mean his overthrow, and the ascendancy of someone else.
There is no other test of a robber chief. Estada knows this, and will
not dare act until he has put clinking coin in the pockets of his men.
That is why I believe you are comparatively safe now--his own
position of command is in the balance."

"I am glad you explained that to me, The knowledge will give me more
confidence."

"Do not rely too much on his control of himself. There is no trust to
be put in such a man. I must go now, and endeavor to reach my quarters
unseen."

"I will see you again?"

"Perhaps not here; it is too dangerous, but I will find means to
communicate with you. Possibly the steward can be trusted as a
messenger; I will talk with him and make sure. Meanwhile we must not
appear interested in each other. Good-bye."

We stood with hands clasped in the darkness. I thought she was going
to speak again, but the words failed to come. Then suddenly, silently,
the door opened a mere crack, letting in a gleam of yellow light from
the main cabin, while the crouching figure of a man, like a gliding
shadow slipped through the aperture, closing the door behind him as
softly as he had opened it. I heard her catch her breath, and felt her
hands grasp my sleeve, but I never stirred. The fellow had neither
seen nor heard us, and I stared into the black curtain, endeavoring to
locate him by some sound of movement.

Who could he be? What might be the purpose of his entrance? But one
answer occurred to me--Pedro Estada, driven by unbridled passions to
attack the girl. Mad as such an act would be, yet no other explanation
seemed possible. I thrust her behind me, and took a step forward, with