lf, "I suppose the
fellow understands thoroughly that we are wealthy. He could hardly doubt
that."

"It's the last thought that would enter his head," said Mrs. Travers.

"Oh, yes, just so," Mr. Travers allowed a little impatience to pierce
under his casual manner. "But I don't mind telling you that I have had
enough of this. I am prepared to make--ah!--to make concessions. A large
pecuniary sacrifice. Only the whole position is so absurd! He might
conceivably doubt my good faith. Wouldn't it be just as well if you,
with your particular influence, would hint to him that with me he would
have nothing to fear? I am a man of my word."

"That is the first thing he would naturally think of any man," said Mrs.
Travers.

"Will your eyes never be opened?" Mr. Travers began, irritably, then
gave it up. "Well, so much the better then. I give you a free hand."

"What made you change your attitude like this?" asked Mrs. Travers,
suspiciously.

"My regard for you," he answered without hesitation.

"I intended to join you in your captivity. I was just trying to persuade
him. . . ."

"I forbid you absolutely," whispered Mr. Travers, forcibly. "I am glad
to get away. I don't want to see you again till your craze is over."

She was confounded by his secret vehemence. But instantly succeeding his
fierce whisper came a short, inane society laugh and a much louder, "Not
that I attach any importance . . ."

He sprang away, as it were, from his wife, and as he went over the
gangway waved his hand to her amiably.

Lighted dimly by the lantern on the roof of the deckhouse Mrs. Travers
remained very still with lowered head and an aspect of profound
meditation. It lasted but an instant before she moved off and brushing
against Lingard passed on with downcast eyes to her deck cabin. Lingard
heard the door shut. He waited awhile, made a movement toward the
gangway but checked himself and followed Mrs. Travers into her cabin.

It was pitch dark in there. He could see absolutely nothing and was
oppressed by the profound stillness unstirred even by the sound of
breathing.

"I am going on shore," he began, breaking the black and deathlike
silence enclosing him and the invisible woman. "I wanted to say
good-bye."

"You are going on shore," repeated Mrs. Travers. Her voice was
emotionless, blank, unringing.

"Yes, for a few hours, or for life," Lingard said in measured tones. "I
may have to die with them or to die maybe for others. F