n," I
answered, in my coldest and calmest tone, "you say what is not true. If
you consult the list of passengers by the Vindhya, now posted near
the companion-ladder, you will find the names of Hilda Wade and Hubert
Cumberledge duly entered. We took our passage AFTER you inspected the
list at the office to see whether our names were there--in order to
avoid us. But you cannot avoid us. We do not mean that you shall avoid
us. We will dog you now through life--not by lies or subterfuges, as you
say, but openly and honestly. It is YOU who need to slink and cower,
not we. The prosecutor need not descend to the sordid shifts of the
criminal."

The other passenger had sidled away quietly the moment he saw our
conversation was likely to be private; and I spoke in a low voice,
though clearly and impressively, because I did not wish for a scene.
I was only endeavouring to keep alive the slow, smouldering fire of
remorse in the man's bosom. And I saw I had touched him on a spot that
hurt. Sebastian drew himself up and answered nothing. For a minute or
two he stood erect, with folded arms, gazing moodily before him. Then he
said, as if to himself: "I owe the man my life. He nursed me through
the plague. If it had not been for that--if he had not tended me
so carefully in that valley in Nepaul--I would throw him overboard
now--catch him in my arms and throw him overboard! I would--and be
hanged for it!"

He walked past us as if he saw us not, silent, erect, moody. Hilda
stepped aside and let him pass. He never even looked at her. I knew why;
he dared not. Every day now, remorse for the evil part he had played in
her life, respect for the woman who had unmasked and outwitted him, made
it more and more impossible for Sebastian to face her. During the whole
of that voyage, though he dined in the same saloon and paced the same
deck, he never spoke to her, he never so much as looked at her. Once or
twice their eyes met by accident, and Hilda stared him down; Sebastian's
eyelids dropped, and he stole away uneasily. In public, we gave no overt
sign of our differences; but it was understood on board that relations
were strained: that Professor Sebastian and Dr. Cumberledge had been
working at the same hospital in London together; and that owing to some
disagreement between them Dr. Cumberledge had resigned--which made it
most awkward for them to be travelling together by the same steamer.

We passed through the Suez Canal and down the M