erting gray-blue which seems to prevail
among men who have lived much in the desert or on the open sea. You find
it in Arizona; and in the navies of all the northern countries. It added
to his cowboy look. I knew nothing about Stires--remember that on Naapu
we never asked a man questions about himself--but I liked him. He sat
about on heaps of indescribable junk--things that go into the bowels of
ships--and talked freely. And because Follet and I were both in what
Naapu would have called its best circles, I never talked about Follet,
though I liked him no better than Stires did. I say it began with
Stires; but it began really with Schneider, introduced by Stires into
our leisurely conversation. This is Schneider's only importance: namely,
that, mixing himself up in French Eva's context, he made other men speak
of her.

The less said about Schneider, the better; which means always that there
is a great deal to say. In this case, there was perhaps less to say than
to surmise. He did not give himself away--to us. Schneider had turned up
on a trading schooner from Melbourne, was stopping at the hotel in one
of the best rooms, and had a general interest in the potentialities of
Naapu. I say potentialities advisedly, for he was not directly
concerned, so far as I know, with any existing business there. He
frequented everybody, and asked questions in the meticulous German way.
He wandered all over the island--islands, I should say, for once or
twice I saw him banging off in a creaky motor-boat to the other jewels
of the necklace. Guesses as to his real business were free and frequent.
He was a pearl-smuggler; the agent of a Queensland planter; a fugitive
from justice; a mad scientist; a servant of the Imperial German
Government. No one presumed to certitude--which was in itself a tribute
to German efficiency. Schneider was blond and brush-haired and
thick-lipped; he was unpleasant from the crown of his ill-shaped head to
the soles of his ill-shaped shoes; but, though lacking in every charm,
he was not sinister. He had seen curious places and amusing things, and
could cap most adventures with something relevant; but his type and
temperament prevented him from being a "good mixer," and he was not
popular.

Stires, however, had his own grievance, and his judgment of Schneider
went deep. He did not mind the shape of Schneider's skull, or the hint
of goose-step in Schneider's gait; but he minded, very much, the kind of
interest t