less, while they wrestled, with swaying bodies and hands that felt
for a firmer hold. Her face was very white and she got her breath in
painful gasps. There was something horribly primitive about the
struggle, but it fascinated.

In the meantime, Lister was conscious that he had been rash. Shillito
was muscular and fresh, but he was tired. It was plain he could not keep
it up for long. Moreover, unless the fight soon ended, people would come
to see what the disturbance was about. This would be awkward for
Barbara; he wanted to tell her to go away, but could not. He was
breathless and Shillito was trying to choke him.

Afterwards he knew he was lucky. They had got near the steps and he
threw Shillito against the post at the top. The jar shook the other, his
grasp got slack, and Lister saw that for a moment the advantage was his.
Using a desperate effort he pushed his antagonist back and struck him a
smashing blow. Shillito vanished and a crash in the gloom indicated that
he had fallen on an aloe in a tub by the path. Lister leaned against the
rail and laughed, because he knew aloe spikes are sharp.

Then he heard steps and voices in the hotel, and turned to Barbara. His
face was cut, his hat was gone, and his white jacket was torn. He looked
strangely savage and disheveled, but Barbara went to him and her eyes
shone. Lister stopped her.

"Don't know if I've helped much, but you must get off!" he gasped.
"People are coming. Go in by another door!"

He turned and plunged down the stairs, and Barbara, seeing that Shillito
had vanished, ran along the veranda. A few moments afterwards she stood
by the window of her room and saw a group of curious servants and one or
two tourists in the path at the bottom of the steps. It looked as if
they were puzzled, and the _mayordomo_ gravely examined Lister's
battered hat.

Barbara went from the window and sat down. She was horribly overstrained
and wanted to cry, but she began to laugh, and for some minutes could
not stop. She must get relief from the tension and, after all, in a
sense, the thing was humorous.

CHAPTER VII

BARBARA'S REFUSAL

In the morning Barbara went to the Catalina mole. The short lava pier
was not far off, and one got the breeze, although the hotel garden was
hot. Besides, she did not want to meet people and talk about the strange
disturbance on the veranda. On the whole, she thought nobody imagined
she could satisfy the general curiosity. Finding a