ace for an instant, save when for a moment she gave a
terrified glance at the rifles and bayonets of the marine escort.

The moment that the marines had fallen back the lieutenant stepped
forward and took the young woman by the hand.

"Tui," he said hurriedly, drawing her to the further end of the room
with firm but gentle hand, and speaking so low and without motion of his
lips that none but she knew that he spoke at all, "for God's sake and
for mine and your husband's, do not be frightened, but listen to me and
do exactly as I tell you."

Still trembling like a startled fawn, the girl raised her lustrous eyes
to the young officer's face. His earnest, sincere manner and expression
of deep concern seemed to reassure her, and though her bosom heaved and
her breath came in quick, short gasps, she turned her face to him in the
confidence of dawning hope.

"Who are you, sir, and what do you wan' my husban' for?"

"Tell these natives to go," said the lieutenant "Have no fear. I am your
husband's friend; but, _be quick_!"

Still, with a wondering look upon her beautiful face, the girl advanced
to the door, said something in the island tongue to the crowd of curious
natives, and then gently closed the door.

"This is a rum go!" said the sergeant of marines to himself, as he
saw the door shut to. "What the devil has the girl been doing? Are the
bracelets for her, I wonder?"

"Tui," said Lieutenant Carteret, the moment they were alone, "time
presses. You speak English so well as to thoroughly understand that
which I am now about to tell you?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, standing before him with clasped hands, "I
think so. A white woman who is dead now taught me to read and write
English, and my husban' always talk English to me."

"Good. Then listen to me, my girl. I am Lieutenant Carteret, of H.M.S.
_Spitfire_--that ship out there--sent here with the ship's police to
arrest a deserter from the _Flycatcher_ on this station five years ago.
This is the man's photograph. He is said to be your husband, and calls
himself George Barcom. Now, when I was an officer of the _Flycatcher_,
I knew a man named Charles Parker"--her face went a deadly pallor--"who
deserted the ship at the Yasawa Group in Fiji. I can, without doubt,
identify this man. But, Tui, I have looked at this photograph when it
was held in the hand of my captain, and said that this is _not_ the man
whom I knew as Charles Parker. But look at it yourself and tell