aught up his
smoking-gown, flung open his door, and ran down the dimly
lighted corridor.

CHAPTER IX

The reversing of the engines had not stopped the momentum of the ship
when Alan reached the open deck. She was fighting, but still swept
slowly ahead against the force struggling to hold her back. He heard
running feet, voices, and the rattle of davit blocks, and came up as the
starboard boat aft began swinging over the smooth sea. Captain Rifle was
ahead of him, half-dressed, and the second officer was giving swift
commands. A dozen passengers had come from the smoking-room. There was
only one woman. She stood a little back, partly supported in a man's
arms, her face buried in her hands. Alan looked at the man, and he knew
from his appearance that she was the woman who had screamed.

He heard the splash of the boat as it struck water, and the rattle of
oars, but the sound seemed a long distance away. Only one thing came to
him distinctly in the sudden sickness that gripped him, and that was the
terrible sobbing of the woman. He went to them, and the deck seemed to
sway under his feet. He was conscious of a crowd gathering about the
empty davits, but he had eyes only for these two.

"Was it a man--or a woman?" he asked.

It did not seem to him it was his voice speaking. The words were forced
from his lips. And the other man, with the woman's head crumpled against
his shoulder, looked into a face as emotionless as stone.

"A woman," he replied. "This is my wife. We were sitting here when she
climbed upon the rail and leaped in. My wife screamed when she saw
her going."

The woman raised her head. She was still sobbing, with no tears in her
eyes, but only horror. Her hands were clenched about her husband's arm.
She struggled to speak and failed, and the man bowed his head to comfort
her. And then Captain Rifle stood at their side. His face was haggard,
and a glance told Alan that he knew.

"Who was it?" he demanded.

"This lady thinks it was Miss Standish."

Alan did not move or speak. Something seemed to have gone wrong for a
moment in his head. He could not hear distinctly the excitement behind
him, and before him things were a blur. The sensation came and passed
swiftly, with no sign of it in the immobility of his pale face.

"Yes, the girl at your table. The pretty girl. I saw her clearly, and
then--then--"

It was the woman. The captain broke in, as she caught herself with a
choking breath:

"It