s hard on me--"

"I mistrust not you, but my own power. You have produced an unfortunate
impression on Mr. Travers."

"Unfortunate impression! He treated me as if I had been a long-shore
loafer. Never mind that. He is your husband. Fear in those you care for
is hard to bear for any man. And so, he--"

"What Machiavellism!"

"Eh, what did you say?"

"I only wondered where you had observed that. On the sea?"

"Observed what?" he said, absently. Then pursuing his idea--"One word
from you ought to be enough."

"You think so?"

"I am sure of it. Why, even I, myself--"

"Of course," she interrupted. "But don't you think that after parting
with you on such--such--inimical terms, there would be a difficulty in
resuming relations?"

"A man like me would do anything for money--don't you see?"

After a pause she asked:

"And would you care for that argument to be used?"

"As long as you know better!"

His voice vibrated--she drew back disturbed, as if unexpectedly he had
touched her.

"What can there be at stake?" she began, wonderingly.

"A kingdom," said Lingard.

Mrs. Travers leaned far over the rail, staring, and their faces, one
above the other, came very close together.

"Not for yourself?" she whispered.

He felt the touch of her breath on his forehead and remained still for
a moment, perfectly still as if he did not intend to move or speak any
more.

"Those things," he began, suddenly, "come in your way, when you don't
think, and they get all round you before you know what you mean to
do. When I went into that bay in New Guinea I never guessed where that
course would take me to. I could tell you a story. You would understand!
You! You!"

He stammered, hesitated, and suddenly spoke, liberating the visions
of two years into the night where Mrs. Travers could follow them as if
outlined in words of fire.

VII

His tale was as startling as the discovery of a new world. She was being
taken along the boundary of an exciting existence, and she looked into
it through the guileless enthusiasm of the narrator. The heroic quality
of the feelings concealed what was disproportionate and absurd in
that gratitude, in that friendship, in that inexplicable devotion. The
headlong fierceness of purpose invested his obscure design of conquest
with the proportions of a great enterprise. It was clear that no vision
of a subjugated world could have been more inspiring to the most famous
adventurer of history.