ick. He knew it. He knew it was a race between his
condition and the completion of the work. He was living in an atmosphere
of contending poisons, breathing one to nullify the effects of the
other. There were moments when he wondered how long his body could
endure the struggle which he knew must go on to the end, whatever that
end might be.

His determination remained unweakening. He knew that An-ina had become
aware of his condition, and it only made him the more urgent that his
task should be completed before Marcel's return. Whatever happened
Marcel must not be permitted to participate in the danger. So, for all
his appearance of calm, he worked with a feverish energy in the deadly
atmosphere.

Whatever Steve's bodily condition mentally he was fully alert. It even
seemed as if his bodily weakness stimulated the clear activity of his
mental powers. Working through the long hours of voiceless solitude he
held under almost microscopic review every aspect of the situation his
final triumph had created. Everything must fall out--provided his sick
body endured--just as he had calculated. There was only one thing that
disturbed the perfect smoothness of the road that lay open before him.
It was the story he had listened to from the lips of An-ina. It was
Marcel, and this girl with the Indian name of--"Keeko."

The thought was in his mind now. He was uneasy. The whole possibility of
Marcel's encountering such a woman in Unaga had seemed so absurdly
remote. A white girl! And yet An-ina had assured him it was true, and
the manner of her assurance left it impossible for him to doubt.

Who was this Keeko? How came she in those far remotenesses which he knew
Marcel hunted? He could not think, unless--His searching mind offered
him only one solution. It seemed remote enough. It even seemed
extravagant. Lorson Harris was the evil genius he had to fear. And he
sought to connect him with the mystery of it all. Was this Keeko some
Delilah seeking to betray the secret he had fought to retain so long?
Had she discovered Marcel for the sole purpose of serving Lorson Harris?
Was she one of those beautiful lost souls haunting the vice-ridden
shores of Seal Bay? It was just possible. There were such women, clever
enough, hardy enough to accomplish such a task. It looked like the only
solution of the mystery. And he smiled to himself as he thought of the
tender soul who had told him the story of it all with such appreciation
of its roman