o very ill? I did not know, Captain Trigger."

"She's likely to die, Miss Clinton,--poor little woman."

Ruth was silent for a moment. Then: "Do you think she--she can hear all
that hubbub down there?"

"I am sure she cannot. But Percival was afraid she could, so he--well,
he thought it best not to make it any worse by adding his groans of
agony when you women tore him limb from limb out here on deck. That's
the way he put it, so don't look at me like that."

Ruth suddenly hung her head and walked away. As she disappeared down the
steps, Mr. Codge remarked, sotto voce:

"She isn't as rabid as she was, is she?"

"She's got it in for Percival ever since he took that fall out of
Landover," said Mr. Mott.

"Think she's--er--keen on Landover? He's a good bit older than she
is,--twenty years or so, I should say."

"Don't ask me, Codge. As I was saying awhile ago, I don't know anything
whatsoever about women. They know all about me, but, gosh, I'm worse
than a baby goat where they're concerned. There's no law against her
being in love with Landover, and there's no law against him marrying a
woman fifty years younger'n himself if he feels like it. Now you take
that good looking Russian over there talking to the Captain. Who knows
what's in her mind? Nobody, sir,--nobody. All I know is that Landover
tried to--"

"Sh! They've got ears like cats," cautioned Mr. Codge.

"--And she put him in his place so quick it made his head swim. That's
why he's got it in for her so hard. He says she's not fit for decent
women to associate with. On the other hand, if she had been willing to
flirt a little with him, and so on, he would have said all the other
women were cats if they refused to take up with her. That's a man all
over for you, Codge. I hope Miss Clinton ain't considering getting
married to that man. He's one of these here what-do-you-call-'ems? Er--"

"Sybarites?" said Codge, who had picked up a good deal from
conversations with Peter Snipe.

"That ain't the word," said Mr. Mott. "Now, I'll lay awake all night
trying to think of that word. Damn the luck!"

He fell into a profound state of mental concentration, from which he was
aroused a few minutes later by the swift and almost unheralded shower
that rushed up ahead of the thunderstorm. The rumble of the "apple
carts" in the vault above had suddenly become ominous, and there were
fitful flares of light in the blackness.

The indignation meeting broke up in a wild