any cause of complaint do not fail to let me know."

He was gone at last, and if the devil ever gets his tail between his
legs his disciple followed his master's example in the going. But
Brant's subdued mood only lasted till he had shut the saloon door. He
went storming up on to the bridge, and vented some of his spleen on
Cheeseman for being half a point off his course. "We must keep out of
the regular steamer tracks," he growled in conclusion. "There's nothing
at sea fast enough to catch us, but the less we're sighted the better
for us afterwards."

"That wench that we shipped at Weymouth has been worrying to know when
we shall be off Plymouth," said the mate.

"Oh, has she?" sneered Brant. "Go and tell her to attend the lady in the
saloon, and if she asks again you can box her ears."

In the meanwhile Violet had sunk down on to one of the couches in the
saloon. Though she had thoroughly taken in the meaning of all that Brant
had said to her, it was too soon to feel the full force of the blow that
had fallen. So stunning had been the shock that she would have to
recover from the shock before she would be able to contemplate the
prospect ahead in a proper sense of proportion. For the present her
thoughts were chiefly busy with her lover, and with the news of him that
had enabled her to confound Brant with such stoical calm.

For the fact stood out above all others that Leslie was as much a dupe
as she was herself in the train of circumstances that had ended in their
being fellow-captives on the steamer. His desperate effort to obtain
control of the launch proved that. He had risked his life to prevent her
coming on board, instead of, as she had been falsely led to believe,
leaving the unmanly message which had lured her into the trap. Brant had
referred to him as a turncoat, but her heart kept telling her that if
he had ever been associated in the conspiracy he had been hoodwinked
into it--just as, later, Nugent had hoodwinked him into acting as the
unconscious decoy for her final undoing.

Suddenly her reverie was interrupted by the opening and shutting of the
saloon door. Looking up, she saw a tall girl in rusty black advancing
towards her, her plain and somewhat bold face showing traces of recent
storm.

"You are my female gaoler?" said Violet, rising. On such a ship engaged
on such an errand she had not expected a congenial attendant, but the
dogged firmness in this young woman's square jaw seemed to fores