ng, will go to a Miss Stope, the daughter of Lichfield Stope,
formerly of Virginia." He stood up. "Halvard," Woolfolk said abruptly,
extending his hand, expressing for the first time his repeated
thought, "you are a good man. You are the only steady quantity I have
ever known. I have paid you for a part of this, but the most is beyond
dollars. That I am now acknowledging."

Halvard was cruelly embarrassed. He waited, obviously desiring a
chance to retreat, and Woolfolk continued in a different vein:

"I want the canvas division rigged across the cabin and three berths
made. Then get the yacht ready to go out at any time."

One thing more remained; and, going deeper into the tin box, John
Woolfolk brought out a packet of square envelopes addressed to him in
a faded, angular hand. They were all that remained now of his youth,
of the past. Not a ghost, not a remembered fragrance nor accent, rose
from the delicate paper. They had been the property of a man dead
twelve years ago, slain by incomprehensible mischance; and the man in
the contracted cabin, vibrating from the elemental and violent forces
without, forebore to open them. He burned the packet to a blackish ash
on a plate.

It was, he saw from the chronometer, seven o'clock; and he rose
charged with tense energy, engaged in activities of a far different
order. He unwrapped from many folds of oiled silk a flat, amorphous
pistol, uglier in its bleak outline than the familiar weapons of more
graceful days; and, sliding into place a filled cartridge clip, he
threw a load into the barrel. This he deposited in the pocket of a
black wool jacket, closely buttoned about his long, hard body, and
went up on deck.

Halvard, in a glistening yellow coat, came close up to him, speaking
with the wind whipping the words from his lips. He said: "She's ready,
sir."

For a moment Woolfolk made no answer; he stood gazing anxiously into
the dark that enveloped and hid Millie Stope from him. There was
another darkness about her, thicker than the mere night, like a black
cerement dropping over her soul. His eyes narrowed as he replied to
the sailor: "Good!"

XI

John Woolfolk peered through the night toward the land.

"Put me ashore beyond the point," he told Halvard; "at a half-sunk
wharf on the sea."

The sailor secured the tender, and, dropping into it, held the small
boat steady while Woolfolk followed. With a vigorous push they fell
away from the _Gar_. Halvard's