icle
of light filtered in from outside. It was only by the illumination
through the open door that any light entered. Ethel hobbled across the
room to the window, and threw open the shutter.

The setting sun threw its rays freely into the interior of the shack, as
the girl looked about her. She saw tiers of bunks on either side. In the
center of the room were a table and some rough chairs. An oil lamp stood
upon the table. In a corner of the room were a cook-stove and the
ordinary utensils for cooking. A curious conglomeration showed on some
shelves at one side. In some of the bunks, there were blankets. Ethel
regarded those blankets with satisfaction. They would mean warmth for
the night, should she be compelled to spend it here.

The Doctor's nerves did not improve. While the girl dropped down to rest
on one of the uncomfortable chairs, he walked the floor to and fro in
silence. His muscles were twitching, and his eyes were wide-lidded,
though the pupils were only pin-points.

Ethel watched him closely. Now, when at last her suspicions were
aroused, she studied as if for her own salvation every aspect of this
man, whom at first she had looked on as her savior, but now regarded
with a dread unspeakable.

At last, to relieve the tension of her terror, she requested the Doctor
to go out to look for a sail or any craft that he might hail. He went
obediently enough. As soon as he had left the room, she moved her seat
so that she could watch him.

He walked hurriedly to the boat, where, using water from the jug, he
prepared another measure of the drug and shot it into his arm. When he
had done this, he raised the vial that had held the pellet of morphia,
and stared at its emptiness with affrighted eyes. Then, at last, with a
cry of utter despair, he cast the bit of glass into the sea. The watcher
understood that he had used the last atom of the drug. The knowledge
filled her with new dismay. She had already learned something as to what
must be the tortures of the drug-addict deprived of his supply.

After vainly scanning the horizon for a few minutes, Garnet returned to
the hut, carrying the girl's blankets in one hand, the water jug in the
other. When he had set the jug by the stove, he went to the
cleaner-looking of the bunks, where he deftly arranged the blankets for
his patient.

The sight of his preparations brought an increase of Ethel's distress at
the prospect of a night to be passed in the company of the di