do," invited Little. The sunniness of his own smile increased.
"Please forgive me if I have forgotten your name?" She flashed a
quizzical glance at him. "Mrs. Goring," she said. She indeed looked
entirely desirable in that sweltering, reeking, jungle post. Her dress
was of some flimsy white material that billowed and rustled with her
every movement. The big sun-hat shaded her face and enabled her to
maintain an aspect of fresh, delightful coolness. Her lips and eyes
seemed in their moistness to resemble dewy flowers peeping out of a
sheltering glade.

How much was due to art Little cared nothing. It was, to his buoyant
heart, like encountering a cool breeze in the desert to hold converse
with such a creature in such a place. Besides, Little was bent on
business first, last, and all the time; business might not be permitted
to suffer from any incivility on his part. He asked, joining step with
her as she moved along the rough planking:

"But tell me how you got here so quickly. When we saw you in Solo, we
understood you were bound for Europe. We might have given you a passage,
you know."

"But you were going to Europe, too, weren't you?" she laughed, and her
violet eyes grew black. "Of course, I was only joking about sailing in
your ship. I knew such a vessel did not usually go such long voyages.
But you see I beat you here, didn't I?"

"Yes, but how?"

"Oh, that's a State secret, Mr. Little." The woman laid a slim finger on
her red lips in mock seriousness. "My brother arranged it for me, and I
arrived just as you docked. But I'm going to visit you as soon as I've
been up to the post. I have a friend there. Good-by, Mr. Little. Please
give my warmest regards to the Captain, won't you?"

Little walked slowly aboard the _Barang_, never turning his head once to
look after Mrs. Goring. He went directly to Barry.

"Barry," he said, "you were right. There's no joke about this. Mrs.
Goring is as deep as the Bottomless Pit! There's something back of those
big violet eyes of hers that burns clear through you. She's coming to
see you presently. What d' ye think about her being here at all?"

"How do I know, yet?" Barry laughed harshly. "I'm glad these things have
happened so soon, though. You see now, right from the start, this thing
is real business and no moving-picture bunk."

"Things? What else has happened?"

"Don't you call that knife business something happening?" grunted the
skipper, busy with some papers on