shoulders.

"And you?" she asked.

"I must do a bit of amateur boot-making," I answered. "I'm going to
cut this third rug into strips and bind them about my feet--can't walk
over stones and thorns and thistles, to say nothing of the moorland
track, without some protection."

I got out my pocket-knife and sitting on the side of the boat began my
task; for a few minutes she watched me, in silence.

"What does all this mean!" she said at last, suddenly. "Why have they
let us go?"

"No idea," I answered. "But--things have happened since Baxter said
good-night to us. Listen!" And I went on to tell her of all that had
taken place on the yawl since the return of the Frenchman and his
Chinese companion. "What does it look like?" I concluded. "Doesn't it
seem as if the Chinese intend foul play to those two?"

"Do you mean--that they intend to--to murder them?" she asked in a
half-frightened whisper. "Surely not that?"

"I don't see that a man who has lived the life that Baxter has can
expect anything but a violent end," I replied callously. "Yes, I
suppose that's what I do mean. I think the Chinese mean to get rid of
the two others and get away with the swag--cleverly enough, no doubt."

"Horrible!" she murmured.

"Inevitable!" said I. "To my mind, the whole atmosphere was one
of--that sort of thing. We're most uncommonly lucky."

She became silent again, and remained so for some time, while I went
on at my task, binding the strips of rug about my feet and ankles, and
fastening them, puttee fashion, around my legs.

"I don't understand it!" she exclaimed, after several minutes had gone
by. "Surely those men must know that we, once free of them, would be
sure to give the alarm. We weren't under any promise to them, whatever
we were to Baxter."

"I don't understand anything," I said. "All I know is the surface of
the situation. But that gentle villain who saw us off the yawl said
that they were sailing at high water--only waiting until the tide was
deep on the bar outside there. And they could get a long way, north or
south or east, before we could set anybody on to them. Supposing they
did get rid of Baxter and his Frenchman, what's to prevent them making
off across the North Sea to, say, some port in the north of Russia?
They've got stuff on board that would be saleable anywhere--no doubt
they'll have melted it all into shapeless lumps before many hours are
out."

Once more she was silent, and when she spoke aga