den with the plunder of
Monk's safe--Lanyard appreciated further that he had done Mr. Mussey a
great wrong.

For he had all the time believed that the chief engineer was laying a
trap for him on behalf of his ancient shipmate, that unhappy victim of
groundless jealousy, Captain Whitaker Monk.

XXVII

CA VA BIEN!

Fearful lest, left to herself, Liane Delorme would do an injury to his
eardrums as well as to her own vocal chords, Lanyard stepped across the
dead bulk of the Apache and planted himself squarely in front of the
woman. Seizing her forearms with his two hands, he used force to drag
them down to the level of her waist, and purposely made his grasp so
strong that his fingers sank deep into the soft flesh. At the same
time, staring fixedly into her vacant eyes, he smiled his most winning
smile, but with the muscles of his mouth alone, and said quietly:

"Shut up, Liane! Stop making a fool of yourself! Shut up--do you hear?"

The incongruity of his brutal grasp with his smile, added to the
incongruity of an ordinary conversational tone with his peremptory and
savage phrases had the expected effect.

Sanity began to inform the violet eyes, a shrill, empty scream was cut
sharply in two, the woman stared for an instant with a look of
confusion; then her lashes drooped, her body relaxed, she fell limply
against the partition and was quiet save for fits of trembling that
shook her body from head to foot; still, each successive seizure was
sensibly less severe. Lanyard let go her wrists.

"There!" he said--"that's over, Liane. The beast is done for--no more
to fear from him. Now forget him--brace up, and realise the debt you
owe good Monsieur Phinuit."

With a grin, that gentleman looked up from his efforts to revive
Captain Monk.

"I'm a shy, retiring violet," he stated somewhat superfluously, "but if
the world will kindly lend its ears, I'll inform it coyly that was
_some_ shootin'. Have a look, will you, Lanyard, like a good fellow,
and make sure our little friend over there isn't playing 'possum on us.
Seems to me I've heard of his doing something like that before--maybe
you remember. And, mademoiselle, if you'll be kind enough to fetch me
that carafe of ice water, I'll see if we can't bring the skipper to his
senses, such as they are."

His tone was sufficiently urgent to rouse Liane out of the lassitude
into which reaction from terror had let her slip. She passed a hand
over still dazed eyes,