at my husband
says _may_ be true--and then I collapse and wish I were dead."

"What does he say, Mrs. Krause?"

"He says that I am mad, and he says it so persistently that--oh, Mr.
Sherry, I feel that before long I _shall_ go mad in reality. It is only
this woman Niabon who sustains me. But for her I should have run out
along the reef and drowned myself a year ago. Now, tell me, Mr. Sherry,
do you think it possible that owing to the continuous strain upon me
mentally and physically--for I am really very weak, and had a long
illness two years ago when my baby was born--that my mind has become
unhinged in any way?"

"I think, Mrs. Krause," I said slowly and very emphatically, "that your
husband himself must be mad."

She wept silently, and then, again averting her face, looked away from
me towards the wide expanse of the lagoon, gleaming hot and silvery
under a blazing sun.

"I wish that what you say were true, Mr. Sherry," she said presently,
trying bravely to suppress her tears, "and that my husband were indeed
mad."

She rose, extended her hand to me, and tried to smile.

"You will think that I am a very silly woman, Mr. Sherry. But I am not
at all strong, and you must forgive me. Now I must leave you."

"But am I not to see the famous witch woman, Mrs. Krause?" I said half
jestingly.

"Oh, yes. She shall come to you presently. And you will like her, Mr.
Sherry, I am sure. To me she been been the kindest, kindest friend."
Then she paused awhile, but resumed in a nervous, hesitating manner,
"Niaban is sometimes a little strange in her manner, so--so you most not
mind all that she may say or do."

I assured her that I should be most careful to avoid giving any offence
to the woman. She thanked me earnestly, and then said she would find
Niabon and bring or send her to me.

Just as she went out I heard some one tapping at the latticed window
near which I was sitting. Looking out, I saw the face of the man
Tematau, who was standing outside.

"May I come in and speak with thee, gentleman?" he said in Samoan.

"Enter, and welcome."

He stepped round to the front door, and as he entered I saw that he had
stripped to the waist; his hair was dressed in the Samoan fashion, and
in his hand he carried a small, finely-plaited mat. In an instant I
recognised that he was paying me a visit of ceremony, according to
Samoan custom, so instead of rising and shaking hands with him, I kept
my seat and waited for him to ap