e coast at a
picturesque, old-world fishing village--Saint Garven's--where, lodgings
being found, they both drew breath more freely, feeling at ease now--
their companion having settled down into a calm, apathetic state,
apparently oblivious of all that went on around him.

It was hard to believe that the dull, vacant-looking man was the same
being as the one with whom Stratton had had his late terrible encounter;
for in spite of the light, indifferent way in which he had treated it to
his friend, none knew better than he that he had been within an inch of
losing his life. It was hard even to Stratton, and as the days glided
by in the peaceful calm of the tiny bay, with its groups of fishermen
and women on the soft white sands, or wading into the clear blue water
to reach their boats, the surroundings made the place a pleasant oasis
in the desert of his life. The rest was sweet and languorous, and he
passed his time now strolling out on the dry, warm sands, thinking, now
high up on the grassy top of the cliff, where he could look down on
people enjoying their seaside life.

At times he would go out with some of the fishermen, who readily
welcomed the English stranger, and talked to him in a formal, grave way,
and in French that he found it hard to follow.

Meanwhile Brettison had hunted out a brawny pleasant-faced fisherman's
wife, who had been pointed out to him as an able nurse, and placed their
charge in her care--the ex-convict obeying her lightest sign and giving
little trouble, suffering himself to be led to some nook or other at the
foot of the high cliffs, where he would sit down, watched by his
attendant--the Breton woman--while Brettison busied himself on the
cliffs collecting.

There was no trouble; the man grew more apathetic day by day, and
Brettison took care that his companion should not come in contact with
him, for fear of reviving some memory of the past and causing a scene.

"And he is so good and patient, m'sieu," the nurse would say, looking up
from the knitting over which she was busy; "and he is growing well and
strong, oh, so fast. It is our beautiful bay, monsieur. Yes, everyone
grows strong and well here."

She nodded as if there was no contradicting this, and Brettison went in
search of Stratton with a bunch of plants in his hand, and a curiously
puzzled look in his eyes.

"Suppose he does get well and strong," he thought to himself. "I ought
to be glad, but am not."

He found S