ade her go on like that?" he demanded drearily.

"Go on. I tell you in a minute. You men, you got no sense."

"But what did she mean, about you?"

"Nothing. She's crazy. You no understand."

"You said yourself she'd come," he insisted.

"Yes, I _say_ so. I tell her she better come. But you no understand
women."

He was destined to find out, as years went by, that this was true. And
when they stood on the jetty and looked down into the obscurity where
Mr. Cassar sat in the boat patiently awaiting his passengers, Mr.
Spokesly began to regain command of himself. For a moment, up there, he
had been all abroad. The sudden emotional upheaval hardened his resolve.

"Well!" he said with a sudden intake of breath, and paused, once more
overwhelmed by the change in his affairs. "I don't know what to say,
Esther." He put his hand on her shoulder and she twisted away a little.
"I feel as if I'd been having a long dream, and just woke up."

"Go!" she said huskily. "Good-bye. Good fortune. There is a carriage
coming. My 'usban'."

"Anyhow ... Esther. I did what I promised her to do ... not my fault."
He got down into the boat "Where's your hand? Good-bye ... good-bye....
Push off, son, push off.... After all I done...."

They saw, from a little way off, the white form of Esther spring forward
and vanish behind the buildings as a feeble yellow flicker from a
carriage lamp crawled slowly along the road and stopped. They heard
laughter and confused arguments.

"Drunk!" whispered Mr. Cassar without either envy or malice.

"Full to the guards," assented his commander. "Hark!"

Someone was singing, a full youthful voice of brazen vibrant quality, a
voice with an ineluctable and derisive challenge to confident hearts.
Though he did not understand the words, Mr. Spokesly was aware of this
challenge as he listened:

"_Auf, deutches Volk, du stark Geschlecht
Es schlug die grosse Stunde,
Steh auf und sei nicht laenger Knecht
Mit Kraft und mut steh fuer dein Recht
Im heilgen Volke bunde!_"

There was a pause, with protests and guttural amusement which were
suddenly engulfed in a clarion shout:

"_Die Freiheit bricht die Ketten!_"

"Go ahead," said Mr. Spokesly, looking back as he sat in the stern, "and
make as little noise as you can."

Out of the darkness came the faint clarion call he had already heard
that night:

"_Isolde! Geliebte! Bist du mein?_"

and the sound, with its echoes fro