de of the deserted yacht melted
suddenly into the body of the night.

Rowing, he faced her, a hooded and cloaked shape, and above her head he
had before his eyes the gleam of the stern lantern expiring slowly on
the abandoned vessel. When it went out without a warning flicker he
could see nothing of the stranded yacht's outline. She had vanished
utterly like a dream; and the occurrences of the last twenty-four hours
seemed also to be a part of a vanished dream. The hooded and cloaked
figure was part of it, too. It spoke not; it moved not; it would vanish
presently. Lingard tried to remember Mrs. Travers' features, even as
she sat within two feet of him in the boat. He seemed to have taken
from that vanished schooner not a woman but a memory--the tormenting
recollection of a human being he would see no more.

At every stroke of the short sculls Mrs. Travers felt the boat leap
forward with her. Lingard, to keep his direction, had to look over his
shoulder frequently--"You will be safe in the brig," he said. She was
silent. A dream! A dream! He lay back vigorously; the water slapped
loudly against the blunt bows. The ruddy glow thrown afar by the flares
was reflected deep within the hood. The dream had a pale visage, the
memory had living eyes.

"I had to come for you myself," he said.

"I expected it of you." These were the first words he had heard her say
since they had met for the third time.

"And I swore--before you, too--that I would never put my foot on board
your craft."

"It was good of you to--" she began.

"I forgot somehow," he said, simply.

"I expected it of you," she repeated. He gave three quick strokes before
he asked very gently:

"What more do you expect?"

"Everything," she said. He was rounding then the stern of the brig and
had to look away. Then he turned to her.

"And you trust me to--" he exclaimed.

"I would like to trust you," she interrupted, "because--"

Above them a startled voice cried in Malay, "Captain coming." The
strange sound silenced her. Lingard laid in his sculls and she saw
herself gliding under the high side of the brig. A dark, staring face
appeared very near her eyes, black fingers caught the gunwale of the
boat. She stood up swaying. "Take care," said Lingard again, but this
time, in the light, did not offer to help her. She went up alone and he
followed her over the rail.

The quarter-deck was thronged by men of two races. Lingard and Mrs.
Travers crossed it r