amed, for gratitude was far from being a stranger
to him.

He half extended his arms in mute apology, and, surprised, he found her
lips caressing his, her warm arms about his neck. He kissed
her--once--and put her away from him; and that guiding star of his in
California could be thankful that Romola Borria's embrace was rather
more forgiving than insinuating.

"We must get rid of this coolie," she said, brushing the clusters of
dark hair from her face. "I will help you, if you like. But over he
goes!"

"But the blood."

"Call a deck-boy. Tell him as little as you need. You are one of the
ship's officers. He will not question you."

He hesitated.

"Can you forgive me for this--way I have acted, my--my ingratitude?"

"Forgiveness seems to be a woman's principal role in life," she said
with a tired smile. "Yes. I am sorry, too, that we misunderstood.
Good-night, my dear."

And Peter was all alone, although his aloneness was modified to a
certain extent by the corpse at his feet. The dead weight he lifted
with some difficulty to the railing, pushed hard, and heard the muffled
splash. Quickly he got into his uniform, slipped his naked feet into
looped sandals, and sought the forecastle.

The occupants of this odorous place were sawing wood in an
unsynchronous chorus. No one seemed to be about, so he seized a pail
half filled with sujee, a block of holystone, and a stiff broom.

With these implements he occupied himself for fully a half-hour, until
the spots on the deck had faded to a satisfactory whiteness. The
revolver with Maxim silencer attached he discovered, after a long
search, some distance away in the deck-gutter.

He meditated at length upon the advisability of consigning this grim
trophy to the China Sea. Yet it is a sad commentary upon his native
shrewdness that Peter had not yet recovered from his boyish enthusiasm
for collecting souvenirs.

At last he decided to retain it, and he dropped it through the
port-hole upon the couch, thereupon forgetting all about it until the
weapon was called to his attention on the ensuing morning.

With all evidences of the crime removed, he replaced the pail, the
stone, and the broom in the forecastle locker, and sneaked back to his
stateroom. He locked the door, barricaded the port-hole with the
pink-flowered curtains--those symbols which had reminded him earlier of
springtime in California--and examined his pillow.

It had been an exceedingly n