scapade. That the
tatterdemalion then closeted with the _Unser Fritz's_ captain could
obtain a certified check for a million sterling, and twenty-five times
as many millions of francs, and even then remain a man of means, was
unbelievable; but if he regained power, that was different. _Ende gut,
alles gut_. There might be pickings in it.

Soon after sunset Iris reappeared. She walked on the after deck with
San Benavides, and seemed to be listening with great attention to
something he was telling her. Hozier was often compelled to look that
way in order to make certain that the _Sao Geronimo_ was not
overhauling the ship in one of her circling flights over the wide
channel. He wondered what in the world San Benavides was saying that
his chatter should be so interesting, and he acknowledged with a pang
that Iris was deliberately avoiding his own occasional glances in her
direction.

There is no saying what would have happened had he known that the
Brazilian was relating the scene that took place on the bridge,
suppressing its prime motive, and twisting it greatly to Hozier's
detriment, though with an adroit touch that deprived Iris of any power
to resent his words. Indeed, she read her own meaning into Philip's
anxiety to reach Pernambuco, whereas San Benavides was striving to
instill the belief that she would find excellent friends at Maceio.
She was far too loyal-hearted to suspect Philip of a hidden purpose in
urging that the voyage should end in one port rather than another. But
she could not forget that he said repeatedly they would be married in
Pernambuco. Indeed, the promise had a glamour of its own, even though
it could never be fulfilled. More than once her cheeks glowed with a
rush of color that San Benavides attributed to his own delightful
personality, and, when she paled again, his voice sank to a deeply
sympathetic note.

And here came Watts, rejuvenated, having imbibed many pints of the
despised lager, and humming gaily:

Beware, Beware!
Trust her not!
She is foo-oo-ooling thee!

Confound the fellow. Why could he not chant the piratical doggerel
that Coke abhorred? That, at least, would have been more appropriate
to present surroundings? But would it? Ah, Philip felt a twinge then.
"Touche!" chortled some unseen imp who plied a venomous rapier. Thank
goodness, a sailor was standing by the ship's bell, with his hand on a
bit of cord tied to the clapper. It would soon