en fury, his daughter always
accompanied him to his state-room "to make him comfortable." She
lighted his lamp, helped him into his dressing-gown or got him a book
from a bookcase fitted in there--but this last rarely, because Mr Smith
used to declare "I am no reader" with something like pride in his low
tones. Very often after kissing her good-night on the forehead he would
treat her to some such fretful remark: "It's like being in jail--'pon my
word. I suppose that man is out there waiting for you. Head jailer!
Ough!"

She would smile vaguely; murmur a conciliatory "How absurd." But once,
out of patience, she said quite sharply "Leave off. It hurts me. One
would think you hate me."

"It isn't you I hate," he went on monotonously breathing at her. "No,
it isn't you. But if I saw that you loved that man I think I could hate
you too."

That word struck straight at her heart. "You wouldn't be the first
then," she muttered bitterly. But he was busy with his fixed idea and
uttered an awfully equable "But you don't! Unfortunate girl!"

She looked at him steadily for a time then said:

"Good-night, papa."

As a matter of fact Anthony very seldom waited for her alone at the
table with the scattered cards, glasses, water-jug, bottles and so on.
He took no more opportunities to be alone with her than was absolutely
necessary for the edification of Mrs Brown. Excellent, faithful woman;
the wife of his still more excellent and faithful steward. And Flora
wished all these excellent people, devoted to Anthony, she wished them
all further; and especially the nice, pleasant-spoken Mrs Brown with
her beady, mobile eyes and her "Yes certainly, ma'am," which seemed to
her to have a mocking sound. And so this short trip--to the Western
Islands only--came to an end. It was so short that when young Powell
joined the _Ferndale_ by a memorable stroke of chance, no more than
seven months had elapsed since the--let us say the liberation of the
convict de Barral and his avatar into Mr Smith.

For the time the ship was loading in London Anthony took a cottage near
a little country station in Essex, to house Mr Smith and Mr Smith's
daughter. It was altogether his idea. How far it was necessary for Mr
Smith to seek rural retreat I don't know. Perhaps to some extent it was
a judicious arrangement. There were some obligations incumbent on the
liberated de Barral (in connection with reporting himself to the police
I imagin