it we needed. That is why I will need you, too."

"I think," declared Peter with decision, "that we had better call this
a misdeal, and play another game for a while. In the first place, I
will not run away with you, because it is against my principles to run
away with a strange young woman. In the second place, stealing for
pleasure is one of the seven deadly sins that I conscientiously avoid.

"Now that I have aired my views, now that I have proved to you I'm not
as fine and brave as you hoped me to be, let's shake hands and part the
best of friends--or the worst of enemies."

The girl rose from the chair into which she had dropped when Peter
began his say. Alternately she was biting her upper and lower lips in
nervousness or irritation. She put her back to the door and braced her
hands against the white enameled panels. Her breast was heaving. She
was desperately pale, and little dots of perspiration shone on her
white forehead. And she was limp, as though his last remark had
drained the final drop of vitality from her.

"I--I won't give you up," she said in a small, husky voice. "Besides,
you are wrong, wrong in saying and believing that stealing his money
would not be for a good cause. He is a brute, a monster, and worse
than a thief. I cannot tell you how he gets his money. I would not
dare to whisper it. You will be doing a fine and splendid thing in
taking his money. You will be freeing me! Does that sound like
heroics? I don't care if it does! But with that money you can buy my
soul out of bondage. You can make me happy. Won't you? Won't you
do--that--for me?"

Peter stood there like a block of ice--melting rapidly! But he said
nothing. His thoughts were beyond the expression of clumsy words.

Her dumb hand found the key, turned it. The door opened, and a sweet
breath of the cool sea air crept into the small room.

For a moment her white, distraught face hung down on her breast like
that of a child who has been scolded without understanding why. Then
she darted out of the room.

CHAPTER V

When Peter snapped off the switch he found that he was trembling,
trembling from his knees to his neck. With a feeling akin to guilt he
wiped the sweat from his face and walked unsteadily to the rail which
overhung the cargo-well.

He lighted an Abdullah, and watched the little smoke pool, which the
wind snatched and tossed up into the booms and darkness.

It must have been a nightm