usly lowered himself into the boat, which rose and fell in a
gentle rhythm against the sea-wall. And for a moment Evanthia had a
slight vertigo of terror. She found herself suddenly alone. That arm--it
had sustained her. She looked down and descried Mr. Spokesly standing
with his arms extended towards her.

"Quick, dear! Now!" His face showed a white plaque in the darkness; face
and hands as though floating up and down below her disembodied, and the
faint tense whisper coming up mysteriously. She felt the rough coping
with her fingers and leaned over towards the face.

"Hold me!" she breathed, and swung herself over. She felt his hands grip
firmly and closing her eyes, she leaned backward into the void, and let
go.

"Now push off, Bos'," said Mr. Spokesly, holding her in his arms. "We're
away." He set her down and took the tiller. "Easy now, Bos'," he added,
breathing hard.

Plouff, his eyes protruding with decorous curiosity, pulled out and
began to row cautiously into the darkness. It was done. She sat on a
thwart, her gloved hands folded in her lap, demure, collected,
intoxicating. It was done.

"All right now?" he whispered exultingly. She looked at him, an
enigmatic smile on her veiled face, and touched his knee. His tone was
triumphant. He imagined he was doing all this, and she continued to
smile.

"Ah, yes!" she breathed. "Always all right, with you."

He pressed her hand to his lips. She let him do this.

"The ship?" she said gently.

"Soon," he said. "We must be careful. Tired?"

"A little. Where is the ship?"

"That is her light. We go this way--keep out of sight."

"How long?"

"Soon, soon."

She became trustful as they turned and made for the ship. Plouff,
stifling his desire to proclaim his incomparable efficiency, brought up
imperceptibly against the grating and, stepping out, crept intelligently
up the ladder to make sure of the watchman. That person was, as Plouff
expected, drowsing comfortably over the galley fire. He tiptoed to the
bulwarks and whispered:

"Come up. All clear!"

Mr. Spokesly drew Evanthia upon the gangway and guided her steps upward.
Plouff stood at the top, his head thrust forward and his hand gripping
the bulwark as though about to fling himself upon them. His globular
eyes and glossy curling moustache made him look like some furtive and
predatory animal. He slipped down the gangway, got into the boat, and
pushed off. Plouff was off to have a night free from re