but it does not
matter--he has paid for that. I thought you would be glad of a fine
adventure like that, so I said to you, Come."

"But, father--"

"If you do not like you can go on with Gobal in the Free-and-Easy, and
you shall be landed at the Isle of Days. That's all. We're waiting here
for Gobal. He promised to stop just outside this bay and land our man on
us. Then, blood of my heart, away we go after the treasure!"

Joan's eyes flashed. Adventure was in her as deep as life itself. She
had been cradled in it, reared in it, lived with it, and here was no
law-breaking. Whose money was it? No one's: for who should say what
ship it was, or what people were robbed by Brigond and those others?
Gold--that was a better game than wine and brandy, and for once her
father would be on a cruise which would not be, as it were, sailing in
forbidden waters.

"When do you expect Gobal?" she asked eagerly. "He ought to have been
here a week ago. Maybe he has had a bad voyage, or something."

"He's sure to come?"

"Of course. I found out about that. She's got a big consignment to
people in Quebec. Something has gone wrong, but she'll be here--yes."

"What will you do if you get the money?" she asked. Tarboe laughed
heartily. "My faith! Come play up those scarlet hose, Bissonnette! My
faith, I'll go into Parliament at Quebec. Thunder! I will have sport
with them. I'll reform the customs. There shan't be any more smuggling.
The people of Quebec shall drink no more good wine--no one except Black
Tarboe, the member for Isle of Days."

Again he laughed, and his eyes spilt fire like revolving wheels. For a
moment Joan was quiet; her face was shining like the sun on a river. She
saw more than her father, for she saw release. A woman may stand by a
man who breaks the law, but in her heart she always has bitterness, for
that the world shall speak well of herself and what she loves is the
secret desire of every woman. In her heart she never can defy the world
as does a man.

She had carried off the situation as became the daughter of a daring
adventurer, who in more stirring times might have been a Du Lhut or a
Rob Roy, but she was sometimes tired of the fighting, sometimes wishful
that she could hold her position easier. Suppose the present good cure
should die and another less considerate arrive, how hard might her
position become! Then, she had a spirit above her station, as have most
people who know the world and have seen somet