stood you, all right," said Mr. Mott, again sniffing
the air. "Seems to me it's getting a little nearer, Captain Trigger.
There's a little breeze coming up, too."

"A good thunder-storm,--" began the Captain, musingly, but failed to
complete the sentence.

"Would settle something besides the dust," said Mr. Codge, after a
deferential wait of a few seconds.

A figure detached itself from the mass on the weirdly lighted deck below
and, approaching the perch of the three officers, came to a halt almost
directly below them. The light of a lantern fell fairly on the upturned,
smiling face of Olga Obosky.

"What is the hour, Captain Trigger?" she inquired.

"Almost nine, Madame Obosky.

"That is nearly two bells, eh, yes? How peaceful you look up there, you
three old owls."

"Come up!" invited the Captain cheerily. She joined them a moment later.
"Tell me, are they leaving a shred of Percival and his band of outlaws?"

Mr. Codge struck a match and held it for her to light a cigarette.
She inhaled deeply and then expelled the smoke in what seemed like a
prolonged sigh of satisfaction.

"They are very funny, those women," she said, placing her elbows on the
rail and looking down at the crowd. "Do you know what the trouble is
now? It is this: they cannot think of a way to condemn the action
of those men as a body without also including Mr. Percivail in the
verdict."

"How's that?"

"Ninety-five per cent, of them want to exonerate Mr. Percivail, but they
don't know how to do it in view of the fact that he is the guiltiest
man of them all. That's why I say they are very funny, those women. They
approve of what he has done in naming the baby, because whatever he does
must be right, but they are almost unanimous in charging that all the
other men out there were wrong. So they are in a great dilemma."

Captain Trigger laughed. "I see. What was Miss Clinton's position in the
debate?"

"Oh, she was one of those who insisted that Mr. Percivail alone be held
accountable, the other men not at all. She was the chairman, you see,
and they were oblige to listen to her at first. But zen, presently, one
of those Brazilian ladies said it was a shame to put all the blame on
dear Mr. Percivail, who is such a gentleman and so splendid and all
zat,--and zen--then zat Mrs. Block jump up and say that if it was not
for Mr. Percivail her husband would have been killed last week when he
fell off of the landing into ten sousand feet of w