human soul, simple and violent, were laid bare before her and had the
disturbing charm of an unheard-of experience. She was listening to a man
who concealed nothing. She said, interrogatively:

"And yet you have come?"

"Yes," he answered, "to you--and for you only."

The flood tide running strong over the banks made a placid trickling
sound about the yacht's rudder.

"I would not be saved alone."

"Then you must bring them over yourself," he said in a sombre tone.
"There's the brig. You have me--my men--my guns. You know what to do.

"I will try," she said.

"Very well. I am sorry for the poor devils forward there if you fail.
But of course you won't. Watch that light on the brig. I had it hoisted
on purpose. The trouble may be nearer than we think. Two of my boats
are gone scouting and if the news they bring me is bad the light will
be lowered. Think what that means. And I've told you what I have told
nobody. Think of my feelings also. I told you because I--because I had
to."

He gave a shove against the yacht's side and glided away from under her
eyes. A rippling sound died out.

She walked away from the rail. The lamp and the skylights shone
faintly along the dark stretch of the decks. This evening was like the
last--like all the evenings before.

"Is all this I have heard possible?" she asked herself. "No--but it is
true."

She sat down in a deck chair to think and found she could only remember.
She jumped up. She was sure somebody was hailing the yacht faintly. Was
that man hailing? She listened, and hearing nothing was annoyed with
herself for being haunted by a voice.

"He said he could trust me. Now, what is this danger? What is danger?"
she meditated.

Footsteps were coming from forward. The figure of the watchman flitted
vaguely over the gangway. He was whistling softly and vanished. Hollow
sounds in the boat were succeeded by a splash of oars. The night
swallowed these slight noises. Mrs. Travers sat down again and found
herself much calmer.

She had the faculty of being able to think her own thoughts--and the
courage. She could take no action of any kind till her husband's return.
Lingard's warnings were not what had impressed her most. This man had
presented his innermost self unclothed by any subterfuge. There were
in plain sight his desires, his perplexities, affections, doubts, his
violence, his folly; and the existence they made up was lawless but not
vile. She had too much elevati