n't seem to fit
in, for here was Mona sitting alone at the captain's table, while
Lambert was right away at the other end of the saloon. That was not the
explanation. It might be a coincidence that the two were on board
together, just as his own presence there was. As before at Doppersdorp,
so now, Lambert did not count for anything in the affair.

"Seems to me, Cheyne, you've got all Doppersdorp on board," he said.
"First Miss Ridsdale, then that cotton-headed chap who just went out.
Now trot out a few more of them."

The captain stared--then laughed.

"So you knew each other before, did you? Deep dog, Musgrave, deep dog!"

"Oh yes, considering I was there the best part of a year," he replied,
offhandedly. "But that fellow you saw just now making faces at me is a
good bit of a sweep. I don't care about having much to do with him."

Lambert's presence on board did away with the expediency, or indeed the
advisability of reticence, and it was as well to tell his own story
first. So they sat there a little longer, and he gave Cheyne a sort of
outline of a good deal--though not all--that had befallen him since they
said good-bye to each other last.

"Come round to my cabin for a smoke before turning in, Musgrave," said
Cheyne, as he rose from the table. "I must go on the bridge a bit now,
but I'll send and let you know when I come down."

Quite a goodly number of passengers were sitting about, or walking the
deck, as Roden emerged from the companion. It was a lovely night, and
great masses of stars hung in the zenith, their reflections mirrored
forth on the smooth surface of the sea, rivalling the phosphorescent
flashes glancing like will-o'-the-wisps rising and falling in the dark
depths. The loom of the coastline was hardly discernible, for the
captain chose to keep plenty of sea room along that dangerous and
rock-fringed shore; but the moist, dewy atmosphere, fresh with the salt
breaths of the great deep, was delicious; and ever with the voices and
laughter of the passengers mingled the steady clanging of the engines,
and the mighty churning throb of the propeller, and the soft, soughing
wash of the scintillating, blade-like wave curving away on each side of
the cut-water of the great vessel.

Roden, moving leisurely in the gloom, tried to persuade himself he was
glad, for his eyes rested not upon that well-known form; and in all good
faith he did not feel certain whether he was or not, so over-powering