which had been loaded, ready for
instant use, immediately the safety-catch was released.

She stared at him softly, with eyes still mirroring the depths of the
sleep from which he had so rudely aroused her, her delicate red lips
forming a curious smile. And she continued to smile more gently, more
tenderly, as she became quite conscious of his presence.

"You have come to tell me that you will go to Japan with me," she
stated.

Peter shook his head slowly, and with equal deliberateness lifted up
the small object in his hand until the light from the ceiling-lamp fell
directly upon it.

"My cameo!" she exclaimed with a start of surprise. "Where did you
find it?" She reached impulsively for the ornament, but Peter closed
his fingers upon it firmly.

"You have something to give me in return, I think," he said sternly.

She was staring at the closed hand with something of despair and
fright, as if reluctant to believe this truth, while her fingers groped
at her throat to verify a loss apparently not before detected.

She stepped back into the room and said:

"Close the door. Come inside."

He thought: If she had wanted to shoot me, she had plenty of chance
before. A shot in this room, a murder would fasten evidence upon her,
and besides, it would instantly arouse the occupants of the adjoining
staterooms, if not one of the deck crew on watch.

So he entered and closed the door, presenting a full view of his broad,
white-uniformed back, and the gaudy-blue sarong about his waist. He
took more time than was necessary in closing the door and sliding the
bolt, to give her every opportunity to arrange this scene she desired.

But the girl was only drawing the curtains over the port-hole, to keep
out prying eyes, when he turned about.

She sat down on the edge of her berth, with her small white feet almost
touching the floor, and the huge blue automatic resting upon her knees.
It was unlikely that she did not appreciate fully the seductive charm
of the red and black gown which adapted itself in whatever pose to the
youthful curves of her body; and she permitted Peter to sit down on the
narrow couch opposite and to examine her and perhaps to speculate for a
number of seconds before she seemed to find her speech.

Meekly her dark eyes encountered his.

"I was afraid," she explained in a voice, low but free in her
remarkable self-possession. "I knew you would not care, and I hoped
that you would have a revolver