reaking off from her
narrative. "They do keep secrets--more secrets than boys do. Wonderful
and terrible secrets sometimes!"

"All right," smiled Curlie, "I agree with you, absolutely, but what did
they do then?"

"Well," the girl pressed her temples as if to drive the thoughts of the
present from her. "They--why then Alfred called Vincent by radiophone on
600. Vincent was terribly afraid to answer on 600, but he did. And then,
because he thought the discovery of the map was so awfully important, he
rigged up a radiophone on his auto and I--I"--she buried her face in her
hands--"I helped him. I was with him in the car; drove while he sent the
messages, all but that last night, when the car was wrecked.

"I--I know I shouldn't have done it. I knew all the time it was wrong,
but Alfred was stubborn and wouldn't talk on anything but 600--said he
had as much right on 600 as anyone else--so we did it."

"And then the car was wrecked?" suggested Curlie. He felt a trifle mean
about making the girl tell, but he knew she would be more comfortable
once she got it out of her system. People are that way.

"Yes," she said, "someone shot his tire and wrecked his machine. I found
the car, first thing in the morning, and when I saw Vincent wasn't
there I got two big packing baskets that we once used in the Rockies and
put them on my horse. Then I went back and got all that radio stuff and
took it home and hid it. Do you think I did wrong?" The eyes she turned
to his were appealing ones.

"Maybe you did," said Curlie huskily, "but that doesn't matter now;
you're paying for it all right--going to pay for it in full before this
voyage is over. The thing you must try to think of now is the present,
the little round present that is right here now. And you must try to be
brave."

"And--and"--she said in a faltering voice--"do you think Vincent is
paying for what he did?"

"I shouldn't be surprised."

"Then you won't have to arrest him if he's already punished?" The
appealing eyes were again upon him.

At that moment Curlie did a strange thing, so strange that the words
sounded preposterous to his own ears:

"No," he said slowly, "I won't, unless--unless he asks me to."

"Oh!" she breathed, "thank you." She placed her icy-cold hand on his for
a second.

"You're freezing!" he exclaimed suddenly. "You'll be making yourself
sick. You must get inside!"

"I'll go to the lounging cabin in mid-deck. The forecastle is so--so
loneso