in such matters. From what you have just told me I
infer the young woman is more dangerous than I had supposed. Perhaps
some foreign port would be the safer landing place. I shall determine
that after our coming interview. This will be the lady now."

We both arose to our feet as she entered, glancing about her curiously
at the rather strange surroundings, then stopping irresolutely,
apparently recognizing neither of us. The light from the hanging lamp,
waving somewhat from the movement of the vessel, served to soften the
lines of her face, and reveal the delicate beauty. About her were no
signs of fatigue or fear. Suddenly the light of recognition leaped
into her eyes, and she took a quick step forward.

"Mr. Craig--you here? Why, I can hardly understand. Were you made
prisoner also?"

"I suppose that to be my status, although I hardly know," I answered,
yet unable to refrain from accepting the extended hand. "I was
certainly brought aboard in chains, and much against my will. I
presume you know this person?"

She swept my face with a swift, questioning glance, and then looked
beyond me at the man standing beside the desk.

"No, I do not," slowly. "I have no remembrance of ever seeing him
before."

"Is that not rather strange," I asked, steeling myself to the task,
"after asserting that he was your husband? He is the owner of this
vessel--Philip Henley."

She reached out gropingly, and grasped the back of a chair, staring at
his face, and then glancing into mine, as though bewildered, suspecting
some trick. I could see her lips move, as if she endeavored to speak,
but could not articulate the words. Henley---for I must call him
that--advanced a step toward us, his thin lips fashioning themselves
into an ironic smile.

"You receive this information about as I supposed you would, Madam," he
said coldly. "I was doubtless the very last person you expected to
encounter. Your accomplice here informs me that I am supposed to be
dead. I am inclined to think you were both mistaken--but not more so
than in regard to my marriage."

She straightened up, her eyes shining.

"You are not Philip Henley," she said firmly. "He is my husband."

The smile widened, revealing the cruel white teeth.

"I expected heroics. It was hardly to be supposed that you would
confess your fraud at once, and--before your lover."

She shrank back, her hands still extended.

"My--my lover--"

"Now stop!" I broke in,