"I wonder," muttered Lingard.

"But I am certain," Carter insisted. "The last of the women and children
belonging to those cut-throats were taken off by the sampans which
brought you and the yacht-party out."

He walked at Lingard's elbow to the gangway and listened to his orders.

"Directly there is enough light to see flags by, make a signal to the
schooner to heave short on her cable and loose her sails. If there
is any hanging back give them a blank gun, Mr. Carter. I will have no
shilly-shallying. If she doesn't go at the word, by heavens, I will
drive her out. I am still master here--for another day."

The overwhelming sense of immensity, of disturbing emptiness, which
affects those who walk on the sands in the midst of the sea, intimidated
Mrs. Travers. The world resembled a limitless flat shadow which was
motionless and elusive. Then against the southern stars she saw a human
form that isolated and lone appeared to her immense: the shape of a
giant outlined amongst the constellations. As it approached her
it shrank to common proportions, got clear of the stars, lost its
awesomeness, and became menacing in its ominous and silent advance. Mrs.
Travers hastened to speak.

"You have asked for me. I am come. I trust you will have no reason to
regret my obedience."

He walked up quite close to her, bent down slightly to peer into her
face. The first of the tropical dawn put its characteristic cold sheen
into the sky above the Shore of Refuge.

Mrs. Travers did not turn away her head.

"Are you looking for a change in me? No. You won't see it. Now I know
that I couldn't change even if I wanted to. I am made of clay that is
too hard."

"I am looking at you for the first time," said Lingard. "I never could
see you before. There were too many things, too many thoughts, too many
people. No, I never saw you before. But now the world is dead."

He grasped her shoulders, approaching his face close to hers. She never
flinched.

"Yes, the world is dead," she said. "Look your fill then. It won't be
for long."

He let her go as suddenly as though she had struck him. The cold white
light of the tropical dawn had crept past the zenith now and the expanse
of the shallow waters looked cold, too, without stir or ripple within
the enormous rim of the horizon where, to the west, a shadow lingered
still.

"Take my arm," he said.

She did so at once, and turning their backs on the two ships they began
to walk along the