in a hurricane, her hair streaming out behind her, her
fine body leaning on the wind. A shadow in the doorway broke in upon this
musing. Cleigh.

"Come in and sit down," invited Cunningham.

But Cleigh ignored the invitation and stepped over to the steersman.

"Has Miss Norman been in here?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long was she here?"

"I don't know, sir; perhaps half an hour."

Cleigh stalked to the door, but there he turned, and for the first time
since Cunningham had taken the yacht Cleigh looked directly, with grim
intentness, into his enemy's eyes.

"Battle, murder, and sudden death!" Cunningham laughed. "You don't have to
tell me, Cleigh! I can see it in your eyes. If Miss Norman wants to come
here and ask questions, I'm the last man to prevent her."

Cleigh thumped down the ladder. Cunningham was right--there was murder in
his heart. He hurried into the main salon, and there he found Jane and
Dennison conversing.

"Miss Norman, despite my warning you went up to the chart house."

"I had some questions to ask."

"I forbid you emphatically. I am responsible for you."

"I am no longer your prisoner, Mr. Cleigh; I am Mr. Cunningham's."

"You went up there alone?" demanded Dennison.

"Why not? I'm not afraid. He will not break his word to me."

"Damn him!" roared Dennison.

"Where are you going?" she cried, seizing him by the sleeve.

"To have it out with him! I can't stand this any longer!"

"And what will become of me--if anything happens to you, or anything
happens to him? What about the crew if he isn't on hand to hold them?"

The muscular tenseness of the arm she held relaxed. But the look he gave
his father was on a par with that which Cleigh had so recently spent upon
Cunningham. Cleigh could not support it, and turned his head aside.

"All right. But mind you keep in sight! If you will insist upon talking
with the scoundrel, at least permit me to be within call. What do you want
to talk to him for, anyhow?"

"Neither of you will stoop to ask him questions, so I had to. And I have
learned one thing. He is going pearl hunting."

"What? Off the Catwick? There's no pearl oyster in that region," Dennison
declared. "Either he is lying or the Catwick is a blind. The only chance
he'd have would be somewhere in the Sulu Archipelago; and this time of
year the pearl fleets will be as thick as flies in molasses. Of course if
he is aware of some deserted atoll, why, there might be something in it."