rs
before her death, and she was wearing a ring of his, a silver rope tied
in a sailor's knot, when she died. And Burns had been fond of Captain
Richardson, in a crew where respect rather than affection toward the
chief officer was the rule.

When Burns gave me the key to the captain's room Charlie Jones had
reached the other end of the long cabin, and was staring through into
the chartroom. It was a time to trust no one, and I assured myself
that Jones was not looking before I thrust it into my shirt.

"They're--all ready, Leslie," Burns said, his face working. "What are
we going to do with them?"

"We'll have to take them back."

"But we can't do that. It's a two weeks' matter, and in this weather--"

"We will take them back, Burns," I said shortly, and he assented
mechanically:--

"Aye, aye, sir."

Just how it was to be done was a difficult thing to decide. Miss Lee
had not appeared yet, and the three of us, Jones, Burns, and I, talked
it over. Jones suggested that we put them in one of the life boats,
and nail over it a canvas and tarpaulin cover.

"It ain't my own idea," he said modestly. "I seen it done once, on the
Argentina. It worked all right for a while, and after a week or so we
lowered the jolly-boat and towed it astern."

I shuddered; but the idea was a good one, and I asked Burns to go up
and get the boat ready.

"We must let the women up this afternoon," I said, "and, if it is
possible, try to keep them from learning where the bodies are. We can
rope off a part of the deck for them, and ask them not to leave it."

Miss Lee came out then, and Burns went on deck.

The girl was looking better. The exertion of dressing had brought back
her color, and her lips, although firmly set, were not drawn. She stood
just outside the door and drew a deep breath.

"You must not keep us prisoners any longer, Leslie," she said. "Put a
guard over us, if you must, but let us up in the air."

"This afternoon, Miss Lee," I said. "This morning you are better
below."

She understood me, but she had no conception of the brutality of the
crime, even then.

"I am not a child. I wish to see them. I shall have to testify--"

"You will not see them, Miss Lee."

She stood twisting her handkerchief in her hands. She saw Charlie
Jones pacing the length of the cabin, revolver in hand. From the
chartroom came the sound of hammering, where the after companion door,
already locked, was being additional