ing gone to sleep for'ard on a heap of nets, in the bottom of
the boat. He was a rough, handsome, foreign-looking fellow, of a type I
believe often to be found in that part of England. I couldn't understand
the object of this sailing expedition at all. It seemed to me an
unnecessarily elaborate introduction to the discussion of a subject
which could as well have been thrashed out in London. Still, as the
other man was the aggrieved party, I supposed that he was entitled to
the choice of weapons; I supposed that his devilish sense of humour
was at the bottom of all this, and I was determined not to give him the
chance of saying I wouldn't play up. But why couldn't he tell me what
was in his mind? How far did he mean to take me out to sea first? These
questions and others raced through my mind during the whole of that
night, while I sat back leaning against the sides of the boat, watching
the stars pass overhead and listening to the gentle sip, sip of the
water.

"At dawn my companion rose, and, shading his eyes with one hand while
with the other he still held the tiller, he stood up scanning the
surface of the waters. I watched him, resolved that it would not be me
who spoke first. After a while he appeared to find what he was looking
for, for he said, 'Nearly there.' I could see nothing to break the whole
pale opal stretch of sunrise-flushing sea but a small black speck which
I took to be a buoy, and the faint echo of its bell was borne to me
through the clear air. He sat down again beside the tiller, and we
sailed on in the same silence, into the loveliness of the morning. I was
quite certain that he had some sinister purpose, though what it was
I could not yet imagine. What did he mean by that 'Nearly there
'? Although he did not actually stir, he gave me the impression of
concentration now, and at a word from him the sailor awoke and shot a
rapid glance at me, as though doubtful whether he would find me still in
the boat. I was beginning to wonder whether I should be a match for the
two of them, when my companion, leaving the tiller, made a step towards
me with a handkerchief he had drawn from his pocket; the sailor pinioned
my arms from behind, and no sooner had I recognised the peculiar smell
of chloroform than I was insensible and inert between them.

"It was very neatly done. I might have trusted him to carry out neatly
whatever he undertook. Even over that he compelled my angry admiration.
So neat! the fiend, t