tered into a low-voiced colloquy with one of his subordinates. Only a
few words of it reached Leslie, but they were enough to show that a keen
look-out was being kept for the approach of fishing or other small boats
to the steamer. That was all in order. Being engaged in the punishable
offence of assisting a fugitive from justice to escape arrest it was
intelligible that the captain should be anxious to cover the traces of
his misdemeanour. But why the delay? Why the return trip of the launch
to the shore, where, so far as he was aware, she had fulfilled her
mission in bringing him safely off?

He could find no satisfactory answers to the questions, and, giving up
the attempt, he tried to accept the situation philosophically. Not
knowing what accommodation had been allotted to him, he could not seek
his cabin; so he put his handbag down on the deck and set to pacing to
and fro. It was so dark that it was almost impossible to distinguish
objects close at hand, and though the crew were evidently alert and at
their stations, he could make nothing of them individually. The
discipline was perfect.

He passed and repassed ghostlike figures on his promenade, sometimes
singly and sometimes in groups, but they never spoke in so much as a
whisper. The silence of the dead reigned over the ship.

He tired of walking at last, and, leaning over the stern-rail, let his
eyes range towards the twinkling lights of distant Ottermouth. At this
late hour they were momentarily growing fewer, only the larger
residences on the hill behind the town showing up in bold relief, and
the row of lodging-houses on the parade flanked by the more brilliant
glow from the billiard-room of the club. The sight of the quiet haven
which had yielded him a short and fickle respite renewed his remorse and
filled him with regret. Such joys as the placid little pleasure-haunt
had to offer were not for him. His proper place was on the scrap-heap of
human failures.

The depression found vent in a sigh that was more than half a groan, and
he was immediately surprised to hear it echoed near by. Turning sharply,
he discerned the dim outline of a woman also leaning over the stern-rail
within a few feet of him.

"Don't mind me," she said, noticing his start. "I expect I shouldn't
have made any sound if you hadn't let on that you had the blues too.
Sighing is pretty near as catching as yawning, I've been told, and now I
know it's true."

Leslie could not see her fe