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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pagan Madonna, by Harold MacGrath
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Pagan Madonna
+
+Author: Harold MacGrath
+
+Illustrator: W. H. D. Koerner
+
+Release Date: November 27, 2008 [EBook #27339]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PAGAN MADONNA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BOOKS BY HAROLD MACGRATH
+
+ADVENTURES OF KATHLYN
+ARMS AND THE WOMAN
+BEST MAN
+CARPET FROM BAGDAD
+DEUCES WILD
+ENCHANTED HAT
+GOOSE GIRL
+HALF A ROGUE
+HEARTS AND MASKS
+LUCK OF THE IRISH: A ROMANCE
+LURE OF THE MASK
+MILLION DOLLAR MYSTERY
+PARROT & CO.
+PIDGIN ISLAND
+PLACE OF HONEYMOONS
+PRINCESS ELOPES
+PUPPET CROWN
+SPLENDID HAZARD
+THE DRUMS OF JEOPARDY
+THE GIRL IN HIS HOUSE
+THE GREY CLOAK
+THE MAN ON THE BOX
+THE MAN WITH THREE NAMES
+THE PAGAN MADONNA
+THE PRIVATE WIRE TO WASHINGTON
+THE YELLOW TYPHOON
+VOICE OF THE FOG
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'Thank you for coming up,' said Cunningham. 'It makes me
+feel that you trust me.'"]
+
+
+
+
+THE
+PAGAN MADONNA
+
+BY
+HAROLD MacGRATH
+
+FRONTISPIECE
+BY
+W. H. D. KOERNER
+
+GARDEN CITY, N. Y., AND TORONTO
+DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+1921
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
+
+DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
+INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+THE PAGAN MADONNA
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Humdrum isn't where you live; it's what you are. Perhaps you are one of
+those whose lives are bound by neighbourly interests. Imaginatively, you
+never seek what lies under a gorgeous sunset; you are never stirred by any
+longing to investigate the ends of rainbows. You are more concerned by
+what your neighbour does every day than by what he might do if he were
+suddenly spun, whirled, jolted out of his poky orbit. The blank door of an
+empty house never intrigues you; you enter blind alleys without thrilling
+in the least; you hear a cry in the night and impute it to some marauding
+tom. Lord, what a life!
+
+And yet every move you make is governed by Chance--the Blind Madonna of
+the Pagan, as that great adventurer, Stevenson, called it. You never
+stop to consider that it is only by chance that you leave home and arrive
+at the office alive--millions and millions of you--poor old
+stick-in-the-muds! Because this or that hasn't happened to you, you
+can't be made to believe that it might have happened to someone else.
+What's a wood fire to you but a shin warmer? And how you hate to walk
+alone! So sheer off--this is not for you.
+
+But to you, fenced in by circumstance, walls of breathless brick and
+stone, suffocating with longing, you whose thought springs ever toward the
+gorgeous sunset and the ends of rainbows; who fly in dreams across the
+golden south seas to the far countries, you whose imagination transforms
+every ratty old square-rigger that pokes down the bay into a Spanish
+galleon--come with me.
+
+                   For to admire an' for to see,
+                   For to be'old this world so wide.
+
+First off, Ling Foo, of Woosung Road, perhaps the most bewildered Chinaman
+in all Shanghai last April. The Blind Madonna flung him into a great game
+and immediately cast him out of it, giving him never an inkling of what
+the game was about and leaving him buffeted by the four winds of wonder.
+
+A drama--he was sure of that--had rolled up, touched him icily if
+slightly, and receded, like a wave on the beach, without his knowing in
+the least what had energized it in his direction. During lulls, for years
+to come, Ling Foo's consciousness would strive to press behind the wall
+for a key to the riddle; for years to come he would be searching the
+International Bund, Nanking Road, Broadway and Bubbling Well roads for the
+young woman with the wonderful ruddy hair and the man who walked with the
+sluing lurch.
+
+Ah, but that man--the face of him, beautiful as that of a foreign boy's,
+now young, now old, as though a cobweb shifted to and fro across it! The
+fire in those dark eyes and the silk on that tongue! Always that face
+would haunt him, because it should not have been a man's but a woman's.
+Ling Foo could not go to his gods for comparisons, for a million
+variations of Buddha offered no such countenance; so his recollection
+would always be tinged with a restless sense of dissatisfaction.
+
+There were other faces in the picture, but with the exception of the
+woman's and the man's he could not reassemble the features of any.
+
+A wild and bitter night. The nor'easter, packed with a cold, penetrating
+rain, beat down from the Yellow Sea, its insensate fury clearing the
+highways of all save belated labourers and 'ricksha boys. Along the
+Chinese Bund the sampans huddled even more closely together, and rocked
+and creaked and complained. The inscrutable countenance of the average
+Chinaman is the result of five thousand years of misery. It was a night
+for hand warmers--little jigsawed brass receptacles filled with smoldering
+punk or charcoal, which you carried in your sleeves and hugged if you
+happened to be a Chinaman, as Ling Foo was.
+
+He was a merchant. He sold furs, curios, table linen, embroideries. His
+shop was out on the Woosung Road. He did not sit on his stool or in his
+alcove and wait for customers. He made packs of his merchandise and
+canvassed the hotels in the morning, from floor to floor, from room to
+room. His curios, however, he left in the shop. That was his lure to bring
+his hotel customers round in the afternoon, when there were generally
+additional profits and no commissions. This, of course, had been the
+_modus operandi_ in the happy days before 1914, when white men began the
+slaughter of white men. Nowadays Ling Foo was off to the Astor House the
+moment he had news of a ship dropping anchor off the bar twelve miles down
+the Whangpoo River. The hour no longer mattered; the point was to beat his
+competitors to the market--and often there was no market.
+
+He did not call the white people foreign devils; he called them customers.
+That they worshipped a bearded Buddha was no concern of his. Born in the
+modern town, having spent twelve years in San Francisco, he was not
+heavily barnacled with tradition. He was shrewd, a suave bargainer, and
+as honest as the day is long. His English was fluent.
+
+To-night he was angry with the fates. The ship was hours late. Moreover,
+it was a British transport, dropping down from Vladivostok. He would be
+wasting his time to wait for such passengers as came ashore. They would be
+tired and hungry and uncomfortable. So at seven o'clock he lit a piece of
+punk, dropped it into his hand warmer, threw his pack over his shoulders,
+and left the cheery lobby of the hotel where he had been waiting since
+five in the afternoon. He would be cold and wet and hungry when he reached
+his shop.
+
+Outside he called to a disconsolate 'ricksha boy, and a moment later
+rattled across the bridge that spans the Soochow Creek. Even the Sikh
+policeman had taken to cover. When he finally arrived home he was drenched
+from his cap button to the wooden soles of his shoes. He unlocked the shop
+door, entered, flung the pack on the floor, and turned on the electric
+light. Twenty minutes later he was in dry clothes; hot rice, bean curd,
+and tea were warming him; and he sat cross-legged in a little alcove
+behind his till, smoking his metal pipe. Two or three puffs, then he would
+empty the ash in a brass bowl. He repeated this action half a dozen times.
+He was emptying the ash for the last time when the door opened violently
+and a man lurched in, hatless and apparently drunk--a white man.
+
+But instantly Ling Foo saw that the man was not drunk. Blood was streaming
+down his face, which was gray with terror and agony. The man made a
+desperate effort to save himself from falling, and dragged a pile of
+embroidered jackets to the floor as he went down.
+
+Ling Foo did not stir. It was not possible for him to move. The suddenness
+of the spectacle had disconnected thought from action. He saw all this,
+memorized it, even speculated upon it; but he could not move.
+
+The door was still open. The rain slanted across the black oblong space.
+He saw it strike the windows, pause, then trickle down. He could not see
+what had become of the man; the counter intervened. A tingle ran through
+Ling Foo's body, and he knew that his brain had gained control of his body
+again. But before this brain could telegraph to his legs three men rushed
+into the shop. A bubble of sound came into Ling Foo's throat--one of those
+calls for help that fear smothers.
+
+The three men disappeared instantly below the counter rim. Silence, except
+for the voices of the rain and the wind. Ling Foo, tensely, even
+painfully alive now, waited. He was afraid, and it was perfectly logical
+fear. Perhaps they had not noticed him in the alcove. So he waited for
+this fantastic drama to end.
+
+The three men rose in unison. Ling Foo saw that they were carrying the
+fourth between them. The man who carried the head and shoulders of the
+victim--for Ling Foo was now certain that murder was abroad--limped oddly,
+with a heave and a sluing twist. Ling Foo slid off his cushion and stepped
+round the counter in time to see the night absorb the back of the man who
+limped. He tried to recall the face of the man, but could not. His initial
+terror had drawn for him three white patches where faces should have
+been.
+
+For several minutes Ling Foo stared at the oblong blackness; then with a
+hysterical gurgle he ran to the door, slammed and bolted it, and leaned
+against the jamb, sick and faint, yet oddly relieved. He would not now
+have to account to the police for the body of an unknown white man.
+
+A queer business. Nothing exciting ever happened along this part of
+Woosung Road. What he had witnessed--it still wasn't quite
+believable--belonged to the water front. Things happened there, for these
+white sailors were a wild lot.
+
+When the vertigo went out of his legs, Ling Foo cat-stepped over to the
+scattered embroidered jackets and began mechanically to replace them on
+the counter--all but two, for these were speckled with blood. He
+contemplated them for a space, and at last picked them up daintily and
+tossed them into a far corner. When the blood dried he would wash them out
+himself.
+
+But there was that darkening stain on the floor. That would have to be
+washed out at once or it would be crying up to him eternally and recasting
+the tragic picture. So he entered the rear of the shop and summoned his
+wife. Meekly she obeyed his order and scrubbed the stain. Her beady little
+black eyes were so tightly lodged in her head that it was not possible for
+her to elevate her brows in surprise. But she knew that this stain was
+blood.
+
+Ling Foo solemnly waved her aside when the task was done, and she
+slip-slapped into the household dungeon out of which she had emerged.
+
+Her lord and master returned to his alcove. Ah, but the pipe was good! He
+rocked slightly as he smoked. Three pipefuls were reduced to ashes; then
+he wriggled off the cushion, picked up his cash counter and began
+slithering the buttons back and forth; not because there were any profits
+or losses that day, but because it gave a welcome turn to his thoughts.
+
+The storm raged outside. Occasionally he felt the floor shudder. The
+windows ran thickly with rain. The door rattled. It was as if all objects
+inanimate were demanding freedom from bolts and nails. With the tip of his
+long, slender finger Ling Foo moved the buttons. He counted what his
+profits would be in Manchurian sables; in the two Ming vases that had come
+in mysteriously from Kiao-chau--German loot from Peking; counted his
+former profits in snuff bottles, and so on.
+
+The door rattled furiously.
+
+Ling Foo could consider himself as tolerably wealthy. Some day, when this
+great turmoil among the whites subsided, he would move to South China and
+grow little red oranges and melons, and there would be a nook in the
+gardens where he could sit with the perfume of jasmine swimming over and
+about his head and the goodly Book of Confucius on his knees.
+
+A thudding sound--that wasn't the wind. Ling Foo looked over his buttons.
+He saw a human face outside the door; a beautiful boy's face--white. That
+was the first impression. But as he stared he saw a man's fury destroy the
+boyish stamp--gestures that demanded admission.
+
+But Ling Foo shook his head with equal emphasis. He would not go near that
+door again this night.
+
+The man outside shook his fists threateningly, wheeled, and strode off.
+Three strides took him out of sight; but Ling Foo, with a damp little
+chill on his spine, remarked that the visitor limped.
+
+So! This would be the man who had carried the bloody head and shoulders of
+the unknown.
+
+Oriental curiosity blazed up and over Ling Foo's distaste. What was it all
+about? Why had the limping man returned and demanded entrance? What had
+they done with the body? Pearls! The thought struck him as a blow. He
+began to understand something of the episode. Pearls! The beaten man had
+heard that sometimes Ling Foo of Woosung Road dealt in pearls without
+being overcurious. A falling out among thieves, and one had tried to
+betray his confederates, paying grimly for it. Pearls!
+
+He trotted down to the door and peered into the night, but he could see
+nothing. He wished now that he had purchased those window curtains such as
+the white merchants used over on the Bund. Every move he made could be
+seen from across the way, and the man who limped might be lurking there,
+watching.
+
+The man had come to him with pearls, but he had not been quick enough.
+What had he done with them? The man with the slue-foot would not have
+returned had he found the pearls on his moribund partner. That was sound
+reasoning. Ling Foo's heart contracted, then expanded and began to beat
+like a bird's wing. In here somewhere--on the floor!
+
+He turned away from the door without haste. His Oriental mind worked
+quickly and smoothly. He would tramp back and forth the length of the shop
+as if musing, but neither nook nor crevice should escape his eye. He was
+heir to these pearls. Slue-Foot--for so Ling Foo named his visitor--would
+not dare molest him, since he, Ling Foo, could go to the authorities and
+state that murder had been done. Those tiger eyes in a boy's face! His
+spine grew cold.
+
+Nevertheless, he set about his game. With his hands in his sleeves, his
+chin down, he paced the passage between the two counters. As he turned for
+the fifth journey a red-and-blue flash struck his eye. The flash came from
+the far corner of the shop, from the foot of the gunpowder-blue temple
+vase. Diamonds--not pearls but diamonds! Russian loot!
+
+Ling Foo pressed down his excitement and slowly approached the vase. A
+necklace! He gave the object a slight kick, which sent it rattling toward
+the door to the rear. He resumed his pacing. Each time he reached the
+necklace he gave it another kick. At length the necklace was at the
+threshold. Ling Foo approached the light and shut it off. Next he opened
+the door and kicked the necklace across the threshold. Diamonds--thirty
+or forty of them on a string.
+
+The room in the rear was divided into workshop and storeroom. The living
+rooms were above. His wife was squatted on the floor in an unlittered
+corner mending a ceremonial robe of his. She was always in this room at
+night when Ling Foo was in the shop.
+
+He ignored her and carried his prize to a lapidary's bench. He perched
+himself on a stool and reached for his magnifying glass. A queer little
+hiss broke through his lips. Cut-glass beads, patently Occidental, and
+here in Shanghai practically worthless!
+
+In his passion of disappointment he executed a gesture as if to hurl the
+beads to the floor, but let his arm sink slowly. He had made a mistake.
+These beads had not brought tragedy in and out of his shop. Somehow he had
+missed the object; some nook or corner had escaped him. In the morning he
+would examine every inch of the floor. White men did not kill each other
+for a string of glass beads.
+
+He stirred the beads about on his palm, and presently swung them under the
+droplight. Beautifully cut, small and large beads alternating, and on the
+smaller a graven letter he could not decipher. He observed some dark
+specks, and scrutinized them under the magnifying glass. Blood! His
+Oriental mind groped hopelessly. Blood! He could make nothing of it. A
+murderous quarrel over such as these!
+
+For a long time Ling Foo sat on his stool, the image of Buddha
+contemplating the way. Outside the storm carried on vigorously, sending
+rattles into casements and shudders into doors. The wifely needle, a
+thread of silver fire, shuttled back and forth in the heavy brocade silk.
+
+Glass beads! Trumpery! Ling Foo slid off the stool and shuffled back into
+the shop for his metal pipe.
+
+Having pushed Ling Foo into this blind alley, out of which he was shortly
+to emerge, none the wiser, the Pagan Madonna swooped down upon the young
+woman with the ruddy hair and touched her with the impelling finger.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+It was chance that brought Jane Norman into Shanghai. The British
+transport, bound from Vladivostok to Hong-Kong, was destined to swing on
+her mudhook forty-eight hours. So Jane, a Red Cross nurse, relieved and on
+the first leg of the journey home to the United States, decided to spend
+those forty-eight hours in Shanghai, see the sights and do a little
+shopping. Besides, she had seen nothing of China. On the way over,
+fourteen months since, she had come direct from San Francisco to the
+Russian port.
+
+Jane was one of those suffocating adventurers whom circumstance had fenced
+in. In fancy she beat her hands against the bars of this cage that had no
+door, but through which she could see the caravans of dreams. Sea room and
+sky room were the want of her, and no matter which way she turned--bars.
+Her soul craved colour, distances, mountain peaks; and about all she had
+ever seen were the white walls of hospital wards. It is not adventure to
+tend the sick, to bind up wounds, to cheer the convalescing; it is a dull
+if angelic business.
+
+In her heart of hearts Jane knew that she had accepted the hardships of
+the Siberian campaign with the secret hope that some adventure might
+befall her--only to learn that her inexorable cage had travelled along
+with her. Understand, this longing was not the outcome of romantical
+reading; it was in the marrow of her--inherent. She was not in search of
+Prince Charming. She rarely thought of love as other young women think of
+it. She had not written in her mind any particular event she wanted to
+happen; but she knew that there must be colour, distance, mountain peaks.
+A few days of tremendous excitement; and then she acknowledged that she
+would be quite ready to return to the old monotonous orbit.
+
+The Great War to Jane had not been romance and adventure; her imagination,
+lively enough in other directions, had not falsely coloured the stupendous
+crime. She had accepted it instantly for what it was--pain, horror, death,
+hunger, and pestilence. She saw it as the genius of Vasili Vereshchagin
+and Émile Zola had seen it.
+
+The pioneer--after all, what was it he was truly seeking? Freedom! And as
+soon as ever civilization caught up with him he moved on. Without
+understanding it, that was really all Jane wanted--freedom. Freedom from
+genteel poverty, freedom from the white walls of hospitals, freedom from
+exactly measured hours. Twenty four hours a day, all her own; that was
+what she wanted; twenty-four hours a day to do with as she pleased--to
+sleep in, play, laugh, sing, love in. Pioneers, explorers,
+adventurers--what else do they seek? Twenty-four hours a day, all their
+own!
+
+At half after eight--about the time Ling Foo slid off his stool--the
+tender from the transport sloshed up to the customs jetty and landed Jane,
+a lone woman among a score of officers of various nationalities. But it
+really wasn't the customs jetty her foot touched; it was the outer rim of
+the whirligig.
+
+Some officer had found an extra slicker for her and an umbrella. Possibly
+the officer in olive drab who assisted her to the nearest covered 'ricksha
+and directed the placement of her luggage.
+
+"China!"
+
+"Yes, ma'am. Mandarin coats and oranges, jade and jasmine, Pekingese and
+red chow dogs."
+
+"Oh, I don't mean that kind!" she interrupted. "I should think these poor
+'ricksha boys would die of exposure."
+
+"Manchus are the toughest human beings on earth. I'll see you in the
+morning?"
+
+"That depends," she answered, "upon the sun. If it rains I shall lie abed
+all day. A real bed! Honour bright, I've often wondered if I should ever
+see one again. Fourteen months in that awful world up there! Siberia!"
+
+"You're a plucky woman."
+
+"Somebody had to go. Armenia or Siberia, it was all the same to me if I
+could help." She held out her hand. "Good-night, captain. Thank you for
+all your kindness to me. Ten o'clock, if it is sunshiny. You're to show me
+the shops. Oh, if I were only rich!"
+
+"And what would you do if you had riches?"
+
+"I'd buy all the silk at Kai Fook's--isn't that the name?--and roll myself
+up in it like a cocoon."
+
+The man laughed. He understood. A touch of luxury, after all these
+indescribable months of dirt and disease, rain and snow and ice, among a
+people who lived like animals, who had the intelligence of animals. When
+he spoke the officer's voice was singularly grave:
+
+"These few days have been very happy ones for me. At ten--if the sun
+shines. Good-night."
+
+The 'rickshas in a wavering line began to roll along the Bund, which was
+practically deserted. The lights shone through slanting lattices of rain.
+Twice automobiles shot past, and Jane resented them. China, the flowery
+kingdom! She was touched with a little thrill of exultation. But oh, to
+get home, home! Never again would she long for palaces and servants and
+all that. The little wooden-frame house and the garden would be paradise
+enough. The crimson ramblers, the hollyhocks, the bachelor's-buttons, and
+the peonies, the twisted apple tree that never bore more than enough for
+one pie! Her throat tightened.
+
+She hadn't heard from the mother in two months, but there would be mail at
+Hong-Kong. Letters and papers from home! Soon she would be in the sitting
+room recounting her experiences; and the little mother would listen
+politely, even doubtfully, but very glad to have her back. How odd it was!
+In the mother the spirit of adventure never reached beyond the garden
+gate, while in the daughter it had always been keen for the far places.
+And in her first adventure beyond the gate, how outrageously she had been
+cheated! She had stepped out of drab and dreary routine only to enter a
+drabber and drearier one.
+
+What a dear boy this American officer was! He seemed to have been
+everywhere, up and down the world. He had hunted the white orchid of
+Borneo; he had gone pearl hunting in the South Seas; and he knew Monte
+Carlo, London, Paris, Naples, Cairo. But he never spoke of home. She had
+cleverly led up to it many times in the past month, but always he had
+unembarrassedly switched the conversation into another channel.
+
+This puzzled her deeply. From the other Americans she never heard of
+anything but home, and they were all mad to get there. Yet Captain
+Dennison maintained absolute silence on that topic. Clean shaven, bronzed,
+tall, and solidly built, clear-eyed, not exactly handsome but
+engaging--what lay back of the man's peculiar reticence? Being a daughter
+of Eve, the mystery intrigued her profoundly.
+
+Had he been a professional sailor prior to the war? It seemed to her if
+that had been the case he would have enlisted in the Navy. He talked like
+a man who had spent many years on the water; but in labour or in pleasure,
+he made it most difficult for her to tell. Of his people, of his past, not
+Bluebeard's closet was more firmly shut. Still with a little smile she
+recalled that eventually a woman had opened that closet door, and hadn't
+had her head cut off, either.
+
+He was poor like herself. That much was established. For he had said
+frankly that when he received his discharge from the Army he would have to
+dig up a job to get a meal ticket.
+
+Dear, dear! Would she ever see a continuous stretch of sunshine again? How
+this rain tore into things! Shanghai! Wouldn't it be fun to have a
+thousand dollars to fling away on the shops? She wanted jade beads,
+silks--not the quality the Chinese made for export, but that heavy, shiver
+stuff that was as strong and shielding as wool--ivory carvings, little
+bronze Buddhas with prayer scrolls inside of them, embroidered jackets.
+But why go on? She had less than a hundred, and she would have to carry
+home gimcracks instead of curios.
+
+They were bobbing over a bridge now, and a little way beyond she saw the
+lighted windows of the great caravansary, the Astor House. It smacked of
+old New York, where in a few weeks she would be stepping back into the
+dull routine of hospital work.
+
+She paid the ricksha boy and ran into the lobby, stamping her feet and
+shaking the umbrella. The slicker was an overhead affair, and she had to
+take off her hat to get free. This act tumbled her hair about
+considerably, and Jane Norman's hair was her glory. It was the tint of the
+copper beech, thick, finespun, with intermittent twists that gave it a
+wavy effect.
+
+Jane was not beautiful; that is, her face was not--it was comely. It was
+her hair that turned male heads. It was then men took note of her body.
+She was magnificently healthy, and true health is a magnet as powerful as
+that of the true pole. It drew toward her men and women and children. Her
+eyes were gray and serious; her teeth were white and sound. She was
+twenty-four.
+
+There was, besides her hair, another thing that was beautiful--her voice.
+It answered like the G string of an old Strad to every emotion. One could
+tell instantly when she was merry or sad or serious or angry. She could
+not hide her emotions any more than she could hide her hair. As a war
+nurse she had been adored by the wounded men and fought over by the
+hospital commandants. But few men had dared make love to her. She had that
+peculiar gift of drawing and repelling without consciousness.
+
+As the Chinese boy got her things together Jane espied the bookstall.
+American newspapers and American magazines! She packed four or five of
+each under her arm, nodded to the boy, and followed the manager to the
+lift! She hoped the lights would hang so that she could lie in bed and
+read. Her brain was thirsty for a bit of romance.
+
+Humming, she unpacked. She had brought one evening gown, hoping she might
+have a chance to wear it before it fell apart from disuse. She shook out
+the wrinkles and hung the gown in the closet. Lavender! She raised a fold
+of the gown and breathed in rapturously that homy perfume. She sighed.
+Perhaps she would have to lay away all her dreams in lavender.
+
+A little later she sat before the dressing mirror, combing her hair. How
+it happened she never could tell, but she heard a crash upon the wood
+floor, and discovered her hand mirror shattered into a thousand
+splinters.
+
+Seven years' bad luck! She laughed. Fate had blundered. The mirror had
+fallen seven years too late.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Outside the bar where the Whangpoo empties into the Yang-tse lay the
+thousand-ton yacht _Wanderer II_, out of New York. She was a sea whippet,
+and prior to the war her bowsprit had nosed into all the famed harbours of
+the seven seas. For nearly three years she had been in the auxiliary fleet
+of the United States Navy. She was still in war paint, owner's choice, but
+all naval markings had been obliterated. Her deck was flush. The house,
+pierced by the main companionway, was divided into three sections--a small
+lounging room, a wireless room, and the captain's cabin, over which stood
+the bridge and chart house. The single funnel rose between the captain's
+cabin and the wireless room, and had the rakish tilt of the racer.
+_Wanderer II_ could upon occasion hit it up round twenty-one knots, for
+all her fifteen years. There was plenty of deck room fore and aft.
+
+The crew's quarters were up in the forepeak. A passage-way divided the
+cook's galley and the dry stores, then came the dining salon. The main
+salon, with a fine library, came next. The port side of this salon was
+cut off into the owner's cabin. The main companionway dropped into the
+salon, a passage each side giving into the guest cabins. But rarely these
+days were there any guests on _Wanderer II_.
+
+The rain slashed her deck, drummed on the boat canvas, and blurred the
+ports. The deck house shed webby sheets of water, now to port, now to
+starboard. The ladder was down, and a reflector over the platform
+advertised the fact that either the owner had gone into Shanghai or was
+expecting a visitor.
+
+All about were rocking lights, yellow and green and red, from warships,
+tramps, passenger ships, freighters, barges, junks. The water was streaked
+with shaking lances of colour.
+
+In the salon, under a reading lamp, sat a man whose iron-gray hair was
+patched with cowlicks. Combs and brushes produced no results, so the owner
+had had it clipped to a short pompadour. It was the skull of a fighting
+man, for all that frontally it was marked by a high intellectuality. This
+sort of head generally gives the possessor yachts like _Wanderer II_,
+tremendous bank accounts; the type that will always possess these things,
+despite the howl of the proletariat.
+
+The face was sunburned. There was some loose flesh under the jaws. The
+nose was thick and pudgy, wide in the nostrils, like a lion's. The
+predatory are not invariably hawk-nosed. The eyes were blue--in repose, a
+warm blue--and there were feathery wrinkles at the corners which suggested
+that the toll-taker could laugh occasionally. The lips were straight and
+thin, the chin square--stubborn rather than relentless. A lonely man who
+was rarely lonesome.
+
+His body was big. One has to be keen physically as well as mentally to
+make a real success of anything. His score might have tallied sixty. He
+was at the peak of life, but hanging there, you might say. To-morrow
+Anthony Cleigh might begin the quick downward journey.
+
+He had made his money in mines, rails, ships; and now he was spending it
+prodigally. Prodigally, yes, but with caution and foresight. There was
+always a ready market for what he bought. If he paid a hundred thousand
+for a Rembrandt, rest assured he knew where he could dispose of it for the
+same amount. Cleigh was a collector by instinct. With him it was no fad;
+it was a passion, sometimes absurd. This artistic love of rare and
+beautiful creations was innate, not acquired. Dealers had long since
+learned their lesson, and no more sought to impose upon him.
+
+He was not always scrupulous. In the dollar war he had been sternly
+honest, harshly just. In pursuit of objects of art he argued with his
+conscience that he was not injuring the future of widows and orphans when
+he bought some purloined masterpiece. Without being in the least aware of
+it, he was now the victim, not the master, of the passion. He would have
+purchased Raphael's Adoration of the Magi had some rogue been able to
+steal it from the Vatican.
+
+Hanging from the ceiling and almost touching the floor, forward between
+the entrance to the dining salon and the owner's cabin, was a rug eight
+and a half by six. It was the first object that struck your eye as you
+came down the companionway. It was an animal rug, a museum piece; rubies
+and sapphires and emeralds and topaz melted into wool. It was under glass
+to fend off the sea damp. Fit to hang beside the Ardebil Carpet.
+
+You never saw the rug except in this salon. Cleigh dared not hang it in
+his gallery at home in New York for the particular reason that the British
+Government, urged by the Viceroy of India, had been hunting high and low
+for the rug since 1911, when it had been the rightful property of a
+certain influential maharaja whose _Ai, ai!_ had reverberated from Hind to
+Albion over the loss. Thus it will not be difficult to understand why
+Cleigh was lonely rather than lonesome.
+
+Queer lot. To be a true collector is to be as the opium eater: you keep
+getting in deeper and deeper, careless that the way back closes. After a
+while you cannot feel any kick in the stuff you find in the open marts, so
+you step outside the pale, where they sell the unadulterated. That's the
+true, dyed-in-the-wool collector. He no longer acquires a Vandyke merely
+to show to his friends; that he possesses it for his own delectation is
+enough. He becomes brother to Gaspard, miser; and like Gaspard he cannot
+be fooled by spurious gold.
+
+Over the top of the rug was a curtain of waxed sailcloth that could be
+dropped by the pull of a cord, and it was generally dropped whenever
+Cleigh made port.
+
+It was vaguely known that Cleigh possessed the maharaja's treasure.
+Millionaire collectors, agents, and famous salesroom auctioneers had heard
+indirectly; but they kept the information to themselves--not from any
+kindly spirit, however. Never a one of them but hoped some day he might
+lay hands upon the rug and dispose of it to some other madman. A rug
+valued at seventy thousand dollars was worth a high adventure. Cleigh,
+however, with cynical humour courted the danger.
+
+There is a race of hardy dare-devils--super-thieves--of which the world
+hears little and knows little. These adventurers have actually robbed the
+Louvre, the Vatican, the Pitti Gallery, the palaces of kings and sultans.
+It was not so long ago that La Gioconda--Mona Lisa--was stolen from the
+Louvre. Cleigh had come from New York, thousands of miles, for the express
+purpose of meeting one of these amazing rogues--a rogue who, had he found
+a rich wallet on the pavements, would have moved heaven and earth to find
+the owner, but who would have stolen the Pope's throne had it been left
+about carelessly.
+
+It is rather difficult to analyze the moral status of such a man, or that
+of the man ready to deal with him.
+
+Cleigh lowered his book and assumed a listening attitude. Above the patter
+of the rain he heard the putt-putt of a motor launch. He laid the book on
+the table and reached for a black cigar, which he lit and began to puff
+quickly. Louder grew the panting of the motor. It stopped abruptly. Cleigh
+heard a call or two, then the creaking of the ladder. Two minutes later a
+man limped into the salon. He tossed his sou'wester to the floor and
+followed it with the smelly oilskin.
+
+"Hello, Cleigh! Devil of a night!"
+
+"Have a peg?" asked Cleigh.
+
+"Never touch the stuff."
+
+"That's so; I had forgotten."
+
+Cleigh never looked upon this man's face without recalling del Sarto's
+John the Baptist--supposing John had reached forty by the way of reckless
+passions. The extraordinary beauty was still there, but as though behind a
+blurred pane of glass.
+
+"Well?" said Cleigh, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.
+
+"There's the devil to pay--all in a half hour."
+
+"You haven't got it?" Cleigh blazed out.
+
+"Morrissy--one of the squarest chaps in the world--ran amuck the last
+minute. Tried to double-cross me, and in the rough-and-tumble that
+followed he was more or less banged up. We hurried him to a hospital,
+where he lies unconscious."
+
+"But the beads!"
+
+"Either he dropped them in the gutter, or they repose on the floor of a
+Chinese shop in Woosung Road. I'll be there bright and early--never you
+fear. Don't know what got into Morrissy. Of course I'll look him up in the
+morning."
+
+"Thousands of miles--to hear a yarn like this!"
+
+"Cleigh, we've done business for nearly twenty years. You can't point out
+an instance where I ever broke my word."
+
+"I know," grumbled Cleigh. "But I've gone to all this trouble, getting a
+crew and all that. And now you tell me you've let the beads slip through
+your fingers!"
+
+"Pshaw! You'd have put the yacht into commission if you'd never heard from
+me. You were crazy to get to sea again. Any trouble picking up the crew?"
+
+"No. But only four of the old crew--Captain Newton, of course, and Chief
+Engineer Svenson, Donaldson, and Morley. Still, it's the best crew I ever
+had: young fellows off warships and transports, looking for comfortable
+berths and a little adventure that won't entail hunting periscopes."
+
+"Plenty of coal?"
+
+"Trust me for that. Four hundred tons in Manila, and I shan't need more
+than a bucketful."
+
+"Who drew the plans for this yacht?" asked Cunningham, with a roving
+glance.
+
+"I did."
+
+"Humph! Why didn't you leave the job to someone who knew how? It's a
+series of labyrinths on this deck."
+
+"I wanted a big main salon, even if I had to sacrifice some of the rest of
+the space. Besides, it keeps the crew out of sight."
+
+"And I should say out of touch, too."
+
+"I'm quite satisfied," replied Cleigh, grumpily.
+
+"Cleigh, I'm through." Cunningham spread his hands.
+
+"What are you through with?"
+
+"Through with this game. I'm going in for a little sport. This string of
+beads was the wind-up. But don't worry. They'll be on board here
+to-morrow. You brought the gold?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The visitor paused in front of the rug. He sighed audibly.
+
+"Scheherazade's twinkling little feet! Lord, but that rug is a wonder!
+Cleigh, I've been offered eighty thousand for it."
+
+"What's that?" Cleigh barked, half out of his chair.
+
+"Eighty thousand by Eisenfeldt. I don't know what crazy fool he's dealing
+for, but he offers me eighty thousand."
+
+Cleigh got up and pressed a wall button. Presently a man stepped into the
+salon from the starboard passage. He was lank, with a lean, wind-bitten
+face and a hard blue eye.
+
+"Dodge," announced Cleigh, smiling, "this is Mr. Cunningham. I want you to
+remember him."
+
+Dodge agreed with a curt nod.
+
+"If ever you see him in this cabin when I'm absent, you know what to do."
+
+"Yes, sir," replied Dodge, with a wintry smile.
+
+Cunningham laughed.
+
+"So you carry a Texas gunman round with you now? After all, why not? You
+never can tell. But don't worry, Cleigh. If ever I make up my mind to
+accept Eisenfeldt's offer, I'll lift the yacht first."
+
+Cleigh laughed amusedly.
+
+"How would you go about to steal a yacht like this?"
+
+"That's telling. Now I've got to get back to town. My advice for you is to
+come in to-morrow and put up at the Astor, where I can get in touch with
+you easily."
+
+"Agreed. That's all, Dodge."
+
+The Texan departed, and Cunningham burst into laughter again.
+
+"You're an interesting man, Cleigh. On my word, you do need a
+guardian--gallivanting round the world with all these treasures. Queer
+what things we do when we try to forget. Is there any desperate plunge we
+wouldn't take if we thought we could leave the Old Man of the Sea behind?
+You think you're forgetting when you fly across half the world for a
+string of glass beads. I think I'm forgetting when I risk my neck getting
+hold of some half-forgotten Rembrandt. But there it is, always at our
+shoulder when we turn. One of the richest men in the world! Doesn't that
+tingle you when you hear people whisper it as you pass? Just as I tingle
+when some woman gasps, 'What a beautiful face!' We both have our withered
+leg--only yours is invisible."
+
+The mockery on the face and the irony on the tongue of the man disturbed
+Cleigh. Supposing the rogue had his eye on that rug? To what lengths might
+he not go to possess it? And he had the infernal ingenuity of his master,
+Beelzebub. Or was he just trying Anthony Cleigh's nerves to see whether
+they were sound or raw?
+
+"But the beads!" he said.
+
+"I'm sorry. Simply Morrissy ran amuck."
+
+"I am willing to pay half as much again."
+
+"You leave that to me--at the original price. No hold-up. Prices fixed, as
+the French say. Those beads will be on board here to-morrow. But why the
+devil do you carry that rug abroad?"
+
+"To look at."
+
+"Mad as a hatter!" Cunningham picked up his oilskin and sou'wester. "Hang
+it, Cleigh, I've a notion to have a try at that rug just for the sport of
+it!"
+
+"If you want to bump into Dodge," replied the millionaire, dryly, "try
+it."
+
+"Oh, it will be the whole thing--the yacht--when I start action! Devil
+take the weather!"
+
+"How the deuce did the beads happen to turn up here in Shanghai?"
+
+"Morrissy brought them east from Naples. That's why his work to-night
+puzzles me. All those weeks to play the crook in, and then to make a play
+for it when he knew he could not put it over! Brain storm--and when he
+comes to he'll probably be sorry. Well, keep your eye on the yacht."
+Cunningham shouldered into his oilskin. "To-morrow at the Astor, between
+three and five. By George, what a ripping idea--to steal the yacht! I'm
+mad as a hatter, too. Good-night, Cleigh." And laughing, Cunningham went
+twisting up the companionway, into the rain and the dark.
+
+Cleigh stood perfectly still until the laughter became an echo and the
+echo a memory.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Morning and winnowed skies; China awake. The great black-and-gold banners
+were again fluttering in Nanking Road. Mongolian ponies clattered about,
+automobiles rumbled, 'rickshas jogged. Venders were everywhere, many with
+hot rice and bean curd. Street cleaners in bright-red cotton jackets were
+busy with the mud puddles. The river swarmed with sampans and barges and
+launches. There was only one lifeless thing in all Shanghai that
+morning--the German Club.
+
+In the city hospital the man Morrissy, his head in bandages, smiled feebly
+into Cunningham's face.
+
+"Were you mad to try a game like that? What the devil possessed you? Three
+to one, and never a ghost of a chance. You never blew up like this before.
+What's the answer?"
+
+"Just struck me, Dick--one of those impulses you can't help. I'm sorry.
+Ought to have known I'd have no chance, and you'd have been justified in
+croaking me. Just as I was in the act of handing them over to you the idea
+came to bolt. All that dough would keep me comfortably the rest of my
+life."
+
+"What happened to them?"
+
+"Don't know. After that biff on the coco I only wanted some place to crawl
+into. I had them in my hand when I started to run. Sorry."
+
+"Have they quizzed you?"
+
+"Yes, but I made out I couldn't talk. What's the dope?"
+
+"You were in a rough-and-tumble down the Chinese Bund, and we got you
+away. Play up to that."
+
+"All right. But, gee! I won't be able to go with you."
+
+"If we have any luck, I'll see you get a share."
+
+"That's white. You were always a white man, Dick. I feel like a skunk. I
+knew I couldn't put it over, with the three of you at my elbow. What the
+devil got into me?"
+
+"Any funds?"
+
+"Enough to get me down to Singapore. Where do you want me to hang out?"
+
+"Suit yourself. You're out of this play--and it's my last."
+
+"You're quitting the big game?"
+
+"Yes. What's left of my schedule I'm going to run out on my own. So we
+probably won't meet again for a long time, Morrissy. Here's a couple of
+hundred to add to your store. If we find the beads I'll send your share
+wherever you say."
+
+"Might as well be Naples. They're off me in the States."
+
+"All right. Cook's or the American Express?"
+
+"Address me the Milan direct."
+
+Cunningham nodded.
+
+"Well, good-bye."
+
+"Good-bye, Dick. I'm sorry I gummed it up."
+
+"I thought you'd be. Good-bye."
+
+But as Cunningham passed from sight, the man on the cot smiled ironically
+at the sun-splashed ceiling. A narrow squeak, but he had come through.
+
+Cunningham, grateful for the sunshine, limped off toward Woosung Road,
+grotesquely but incredibly fast for a man with only one sound leg. He
+never used a cane, having the odd fancy that a stick would only emphasize
+his affliction. He might have taken a 'ricksha this morning, but he never
+thought of it until he had crossed Soochow Creek.
+
+But Ling Foo was not in his shop and the door was locked. Cunningham
+explored the muddy gutters all the way from Ling Foo's to Moy's tea house,
+where the meeting had taken place. He found nothing, and went into Moy's
+to wait. Ling Foo would have to pass the restaurant. A boy who knew the
+merchant stood outside to watch.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jane woke at nine. The brightness of the window shade told her that the
+sun was clear. She sprang out of bed, a trill of happiness in her throat.
+The shops! Oh, the beautiful, beautiful shops!
+
+"China, China, China!" she sang.
+
+She threw up the shade and squinted for a moment. The sun in the heavens
+and the reflection on the Whangpoo were blinding. The sampans made her
+think of ants, darting, scuttling, wheeling.
+
+"Oh, the beautiful shops!"
+
+Of all the things in the world--this side of the world--worth having,
+nothing else seemed comparable to jade--a jade necklace. Not the stone
+that looked like dull marble with a greenish pallor--no. She wanted the
+deep apple-green jade, the royal, translucent stone. And she knew that she
+had as much chance of possessing the real article as she had of taking her
+pick of the scattered Romanoff jewels.
+
+Jane held to the belief that when you wished for something you couldn't
+have it was niggardly not to wish magnificently.
+
+She dressed hurriedly, hastened through her breakfast of tea and toast and
+jam, and was about to sally forth upon the delectable adventure, when
+there came a gentle knock on the door. She opened it, rather expecting a
+boy to announce that Captain Dennison was below. Outside stood a Chinaman
+in a black skirt and a jacket of blue brocade. He was smiling and
+kotowing.
+
+"Would the lady like to see some things?"
+
+"Come in," said Jane, readily.
+
+Ling Foo deposited his pack on the floor and opened it. He had heard that
+a single woman had come in the night before and, shrewd merchant that he
+was, he had wasted no time.
+
+"Furs!" cried Jane, reaching down for the Manchurian sable. She blew aside
+the top fur and discovered the smoky down beneath. She rubbed her cheek
+against it ecstatically. She wondered what devil's lure there was about
+furs and precious stones that made women give up all the world for them.
+Was that madness hidden away in her somewhere?
+
+"How much?"
+
+She knew beforehand that the answer would render the question utterly
+futile.
+
+"A hundred Mex," said Ling Foo. "Very cheap."
+
+"A hundred Mex?" That would be nearly fifty dollars in American money.
+With a sigh she dropped the fur. "Too much for me. How much is that
+Chinese jacket?"
+
+"Twenty Mex."
+
+Jane carried it over to the window.
+
+"I will give you fifteen for it."
+
+"All right."
+
+Ling Foo was willing to forego his usual hundred per cent. profit in order
+to start the day with a sale. Then he spread out the grass linen.
+
+Jane went into raptures over some of the designs, but in the end she shook
+her head. She wanted something from Shanghai, something from Hong-Kong,
+something from Yokohama. If she followed her inclination she would go
+broke here and now.
+
+"Have you any jade? Understand, I'm not buying. Just want to see some."
+
+"No, lady; but I can bring you some this afternoon."
+
+"I warn you, I'm not buying."
+
+"I shall be glad to show the lady. What time shall I call?"
+
+"Oh, about tea time."
+
+Ling Foo reached inside his jacket and produced a string of cut-glass
+beads.
+
+"How pretty! What are they?"
+
+"Glass."
+
+Jane hooked the string round her neck and viewed the result in the
+mirror. The sunshine, striking the facets, set fire to the beads. They
+were really lovely. She took a sudden fancy to them.
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Four Mex." It was magnanimous of Ling Foo.
+
+"I'll take them." They were real, anyhow. "Bring your jade at tea time and
+call for Miss Norman. I can't give you any more time."
+
+"Yes, lady."
+
+Ling Foo bundled up his assorted merchandise and trotted away infinitely
+relieved. The whole affair was off his hands. In no wise could the police
+bother him now. He knew nothing; he would know nothing until he met his
+honourable ancestors.
+
+From ten until three Jane, under the guidance of Captain Dennison, stormed
+the shops on the Bunds and Nanking Road; but in returning to the Astor
+House she realized with dismay that she had expended the major portion of
+her ammunition in this offensive. She doubted if she would have enough to
+buy a kimono in Japan. It was dreadful to be poor and to have a taste for
+luxury and an eye for beauty.
+
+"Captain," she said as they sat down to tea, "I'm going to ask one more
+favour."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"A Chinaman is coming with some jade. If I'm alone with him I'm afraid
+I'll buy something, and I really can't spend another penny in Shanghai."
+
+"I see. Want me to shoo him off in case his persistence is too much for
+you."
+
+"Exactly. It's very nice of you."
+
+"Greatest pleasure in the world. I wish the job was permanent--shooing 'em
+away from you."
+
+She sent him a quick sidelong glance, but he was smiling. Still, there was
+something in the tone that quickened her pulse. All nonsense, of course;
+both of them stony, as the Britishers put it; both of them returning to
+the States for bread and butter.
+
+"Why didn't you put up here?" she asked. "There is plenty of room."
+
+"Well, I thought perhaps it would be better if I stayed at the Palace."
+
+"Nonsense! Who cares?"
+
+"I do." And this time he did not smile.
+
+"I suppose my Chinaman will be waiting in the lobby."
+
+"Let's toddle along, then."
+
+Dennison followed her out of the tea room, his gaze focused on the back of
+her neck, and it was just possible to resist the mad inclination to bend
+and kiss the smooth, ivory-tinted skin. He was not ready to analyze the
+impulse for fear he might find how deep down the propellant was. A woman,
+young in the heart, young in the body, and old in the mind, disillusioned
+but not embittered, unafraid, resourceful, sometimes beautiful and
+sometimes plain, but always splendidly alive.
+
+Perhaps the wisest move on his part was to avoid her companionship, invent
+some excuse to return by the way of Manila, pretend he had transfer
+orders. To spend twenty-one days on the same ship with her and to keep his
+head seemed a bit too strong. Had there been something substantial
+reaching down from the future--a dependable job--he would have gone with
+her joyously. But he had not a dollar beyond his accumulated pay; that
+would melt quickly enough when he reached the States. He was thirty; he
+would have to hustle to get anywhere by the time he was forty. His only
+hope was that back in the States they were calling for men who knew how to
+manage men, and he had just been discharged--or recalled for that
+purpose--from the best school for that. But they were calling for
+specialists, too, and he was a jack of all trades and master of none.
+
+He knew something about art, something about music, something about
+languages; but he could not write. He was a fair navigator, but not fair
+enough for a paying job. He could take an automobile engine apart and
+reassemble it with skill, but any chauffeur could do that.
+
+"Hadn't we better go into the parlour?" he heard Jane asking as they
+passed out.
+
+"We'll be alone there. It will be easier for you to resist temptation, I
+suppose, if there isn't any audience. Audiences are nuisances. Men have
+killed each other because they feared the crowd might mistake common sense
+for the yellow streak."
+
+Instantly the thought leaped into the girl's mind: Supposing such an event
+lay back of this strange silence about his home and his people? She
+recalled the ruthless ferocity with which he had broken up a street fight
+between American and Japanese soldiers one afternoon in Vladivostok.
+Supposing he had killed someone? But she had to repudiate this theory. No
+officer in the United States Army could cover up anything like that.
+
+"Come to the parlour," she said to Ling Foo, who was smiling and
+kotowing.
+
+Ling Foo picked up his blackwood box. Inwardly he was not at all pleased
+at the prospect of having an outsider witness the little business
+transaction he had in mind. Obliquely he studied the bronze mask. There
+was no eagerness, no curiosity, no indifference. It struck Ling Foo that
+there was something Oriental in this officer's repose. But five hundred
+gold! Five hundred dollars in American gold--for a string of glass beads!
+
+He set the blackwood box on a stand, opened it, and spread out jade
+earrings, rings, fobs, bracelets, strings. The girl's eagerness caused
+Ling Foo to sigh with relief. It would be easy.
+
+"I warned you that I should not buy anything," said Jane, ruefully. "But
+even if I had the money I would not buy this kind of a jade necklace. I
+should want apple-green."
+
+"Ah!" said Ling Foo, shocked with delight. "Perhaps we can make a bargain.
+You have those glass beads I sold you this morning?"
+
+"Yes, I am wearing them."
+
+Jane took off her mink-fur collaret, which was sadly worn.
+
+Ling Foo's hand went into his box again. From a piece of cotton cloth he
+drew forth a necklace of apple-green jade, almost perfect.
+
+"Oh, the lovely thing!" Jane seized the necklace. "To possess something
+like this! Isn't it glorious, captain?"
+
+"Let me see it." Dennison inspected the necklace carefully. "It is
+genuine. Where did you get this?"
+
+Ling Foo shrugged.
+
+"Long ago, during the Boxer troubles, I bought it from a sailor."
+
+"Ah, probably loot from the Peking palace. How much is it worth?"
+
+Murder blazed up in Ling Foo's heart, but his face remained smilingly
+bland.
+
+"What I can get for it. But if the lady wishes I will give it to her in
+exchange for the glass beads. I had no right to sell the beads," Ling Foo
+went on with a deprecating gesture. "I thought the man who owned them
+would never claim them. But he came this noon. Something belonging to his
+ancestor--and he demands it."
+
+"Trade them? Good heavens, yes! Of all things! Here!" Jane unclasped the
+beads and thrust them toward Ling Foo's eager claw.
+
+But Dennison reached out an intervening hand.
+
+"Just a moment, Miss Norman. What's the game?" he asked of Ling Foo.
+
+Ling Foo silently cursed all this meddler's ancestors from Noah down, but
+his face expressed only mild bewilderment.
+
+"Game?"
+
+"Yes. Why didn't you offer some other bits of jade? This string is worth
+two or three hundred gold; and this is patently a string of glass beads,
+handsomely cut, but nevertheless plain glass. What's the idea?"
+
+"But I have explained!" protested Ling Foo. "The string is not mine. I
+have in honour to return it."
+
+"Yes, yes! That's all very well. You could have told this lady that and
+offered to return her money. But a jade necklace like this one! No, Miss
+Norman; my advice is to keep the beads until we learn what's going on."
+
+"But to let that jade go!" she wailed comically.
+
+"The lady may keep the jade until to-morrow. She may have the night to
+decide. This is no hurry."
+
+Ling Foo saw that he had been witless indeed. The thought of raising the
+bid of five hundred gold to a thousand or more had bemused him, blunted
+his ordinary cunning.
+
+Inwardly he cursed his stupidity. But the appearance of a witness to the
+transaction had set him off his balance. The officer had spoken shrewdly.
+The young woman would have returned the beads in exchange for the sum she
+had paid for them, and she would never have suspected--nor the officer,
+either--that the beads possessed unknown value. Still, the innocent
+covetousness, plainly visible in her eyes, told him that the game was not
+entirely played out; there was yet a dim chance. Alone, without the
+officer to sway her, she might be made to yield.
+
+"The lady may wear the beads to-night if she wishes. I will return for
+them in the morning."
+
+"But this does not explain the glass beads," said the captain.
+
+"I will bring the real owner with me in the morning," volunteered Ling
+Foo. "He sets a high value on them through sentiment. Perhaps I was
+hasty."
+
+Dennison studied the glass beads. Perhaps his suspicions were not on any
+too solid ground. Yet a string of jade beads like that in exchange!
+Something was in the air.
+
+"Well," said he, smiling at the appeal in the girl's eyes, "I don't
+suppose there will be any harm in keeping them overnight. We'll have a
+chance to talk it over."
+
+Ling Foo's plan of attack matured suddenly. He would call near midnight.
+He would somehow manage to get to her door. She would probably hand him
+the glass beads without a word of argument. Then he would play his game
+with the man who limped. He smiled inwardly as he put his wares back into
+the carved box. A thousand gold! At any rate, he would press the man into
+a corner. There was something about this affair that convinced Ling Foo
+that his noon visitor would pay high for two reasons: one, to recover the
+glass beads; the other, to keep out of the reach of the police.
+
+Ling Foo considered that he was playing his advantage honestly. He hadn't
+robbed or murdered anybody. A business deal had slipped into his hands and
+it was only logical to make the most of it. He kotowed several times on
+the way out of the parlour, conscious, however, of the searching eyes of
+the man who had balked him.
+
+"Well!" exclaimed Jane. "What in the world do you suppose is going on?"
+
+"Lord knows, but something is going on. You couldn't buy a jade necklace
+like that under five hundred in New York. This apple-green seldom runs
+deep; the colour runs in veins and patches. The bulk of the quarried stone
+has the colour and greasy look of raw pork. No; I shouldn't put it on just
+now, not until you have washed it. You never can tell. I'll get you a
+germicide at the English apothecary's. Glass beads! Humph! Hanged if I can
+make it out. Glass; Occidental, too; maybe worth five dollars in the
+States. Put it on again. It's a great world over here. You're always
+stumbling into something unique. I'm coming over to dine with you
+to-night."
+
+"Splendid!"
+
+Jane put the jade into her hand-bag, clasped the glass beads round her
+neck again, and together she and Dennison walked toward the parlour door.
+As they reached it a tall, vigorous, elderly man with a gray pompadour
+started to enter. He paused, with an upward tilt of the chin, but the tilt
+was the result of pure astonishment. Instinctively Jane turned to her
+escort. His chin was tilted, too, and his expression was a match for the
+stranger's. Later, recalling the tableau, which lasted but a moment, it
+occurred to Jane that two men, suddenly confronted by a bottomless pit,
+might have expressed their dumfounderment in exactly this fashion.
+
+In the lobby she said rather breathlessly: "You knew each other and didn't
+speak! Who is he?"
+
+The answer threw her into a hypnotic state.
+
+"My father," said Dennison, quietly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+Father and son! For a while Jane had the sensation of walking upon
+unsubstantial floors, of seeing unsubstantial objects. The encounter did
+not seem real, human. Father and son, and they had not rushed into each
+other's arms! No matter what had happened in the past, there should have
+been some human sign other than astonishment. At the very least two or
+three years had separated them. Just stared for a moment, and passed on!
+
+Hypnotism is a fact; a word or a situation will create this peculiar state
+of mind. Father and son! The phrase actually hypnotized Jane, and she
+remained in the clutch of it until hours later, which may account for the
+amazing events into which she permitted herself to be drawn. Father and
+son! Her actions were normal; her mental state was not observable; but
+inwardly she retained no clear recollection of the hours that intervened
+between this and the astonishing climax. As from a distance, she heard the
+voice of the son:
+
+"Looks rum to you, no doubt. But I can't tell you the story--at least not
+now. It's the story of a tomfool. I had no idea he was on this side. I
+haven't laid eyes on him in seven years. Dinner at seven. I'll have that
+germicide sent up to your room."
+
+The captain nodded abruptly and made off toward the entrance.
+
+Jane understood. He wanted to be alone--to catch his breath, as it were.
+At any rate, that was a human sign that something besides astonishment was
+stirring within. So she walked mechanically over to the bookstall and
+hazily glanced at the backs of the new novels, riffled the pages of a
+magazine; and to this day she cannot recall whether the clerk was a man or
+a woman, white or brown or yellow, for a hand touched her sleeve lightly,
+compelling her attention. Dennison's father stood beside her.
+
+"Pardon me, but may I ask you a question?"
+
+Jane dropped the fur collaret in her confusion. They both stooped for it,
+and collided gently; but in rising the man glimpsed the string of glass
+beads.
+
+"Thank you," said Jane, as she received the collaret. "What is it you wish
+to ask of me?"
+
+"The name of the man you were with."
+
+"Dennison; his own and yours--probably," she said with spirit, for she
+took sides in that moment, and was positive that the blame for the
+estrangement lay with the father. The level, unagitated voice irritated
+her; she resented it. He wasn't human!
+
+"My name is Cleigh--Anthony Cleigh. Thank you."
+
+Cleigh bowed politely and moved away. Behind that calm, impenetrable mask,
+however, was turmoil, kaleidoscopic, whirling too quickly for the brain to
+grasp or hold definite shapes. The boy here! And the girl with those beads
+round her throat! For the subsidence of this turmoil it was needful to
+have space; so Cleigh strode out of the lobby into the fading day, made
+his way across the bridge, and sought the Bund. He forgot all about his
+appointment with Cunningham.
+
+He lit a cigar and walked on and on, oblivious of the cries of the
+'ricksha boys, importunate beggars, the human currents that broke and
+flowed each side of him. The boy here in Shanghai! And that girl with
+those beads round her throat! It was as though his head had become a
+tom-tom in the hands of fate. The drumming made it impossible to think
+clearly. It was the springing up of the electric lights that brought him
+back to actualities. He looked at his watch.
+
+He had been tramping up and down the Bund for two solid hours.
+
+And now came, clearly defined, the idea for which he had been searching.
+He indulged in a series of rumbling chuckles. You will have heard such a
+sound in the forest when a stream suddenly takes on a merry mood--broken
+water.
+
+To return to Jane, whom Cleigh had left in a state of growing hypnosis.
+She was able to act and think intelligently, but the spell lay like a fog
+upon her will, enervating it. She grasped the situation clearly enough; it
+was tremendous. She had heard of Anthony Cleigh. Who in America had not?
+Father and son, and they had passed each other without a nod! Had she not
+been a witness to the episode, she would not have believed such a
+performance possible.
+
+Through the fog burst a clear point of light. This was not the first time
+she had encountered Anthony Cleigh. Where had she seen him before, and
+under what circumstance? Later, when she was alone, she would dig into her
+storehouse of recollection. Certainly she must bring back that episode.
+One thing, she had not known him as Anthony Cleigh.
+
+Father and son, and they had not spoken! It was this that beat
+persistently upon her mind. What dramatic event had created such a
+condition? After seven years! These two, strong mentally and physically,
+in a private war! She understood now how it was that Dennison had been
+able to tell her about Monte Carlo, the South Sea Islands, Africa, Asia;
+he had been his father's companion on the yacht.
+
+Mechanically she approached the lift. In her room all her actions were
+more or less mechanical. From the back of her mind somewhere came the
+order to her hands. She took down the evening gown. This time the subtle
+odour of lavender left her untouched. To be beautiful, to wish that she
+were beautiful! Why? Her hair was lovely; her neck and arms were lovely;
+but her nose wasn't right, her mouth was too large, and her eyes missed
+being either blue or hazel. Why did she wish to be beautiful?
+
+Always to be poor, to be hanging on the edge of things, never enough of
+this or that--genteel poverty. She had inherited the condition, as had her
+mother before her--gentlefolk who had to count the pennies. Her two
+sisters--really handsome girls--had married fairly well; but one lived in
+St. Louis and the other in Seattle, so she never saw them any more.
+
+Tired. That was it. Tired of the war for existence; tired of the following
+odours of antiseptics; tired of the white walls of hospitals, the sight of
+pain. On top of all, the level dullness of the past, the leaden horror of
+these months in Siberia. She laughed brokenly. Gardens scattered all over
+the world, and she couldn't find one--the gardens of imagination! Romance
+everywhere, and she never could touch any of it!
+
+Marriage. Outside of books, what was it save a legal contract to cook and
+bear children in exchange for food and clothes? The humdrum! She flung out
+her arms with a gesture of rage. She had been cheated, as always. She had
+come to this side of the world expecting colour, movement, adventure. The
+Orient of the novels she had read--where was it? Drab skies, drab people,
+drab work! And now to return to America, to exchange one drab job for
+another! Nadir, always nadir, never any zenith!
+
+Her bitter cogitations were interrupted by a knock on the door. She threw
+on her kimono and answered. A yellow hand thrust a bottle toward her. It
+would be the wash for the jade. She emptied the soap dish, cleaned it,
+poured in the germicide, and dropped the jade necklace into the liquid.
+She left it there while she dressed.
+
+Dennison Cleigh, returning to the States to look for a job! Nothing she
+had ever read seemed quite so fantastic. She paused in her dressing to
+stare at some inner thought which she projected upon the starred curtain
+of the night beyond her window. Supposing they had wanted to fling
+themselves into each other's arms and hadn't known how? She had had a
+glimpse or two of Dennison's fierce pride. Naturally he had inherited it
+from his father. Supposing they were just stupid rather than vengeful?
+Poor, foolish human beings!
+
+She proceeded with her toilet. Finishing that, she cleansed the jade
+necklace with soap and water, then realized that she would not be able to
+wear it, because the string would be damp. So she put on the glass beads
+instead--another move by the Madonna of the Pagan. Jane Norman was to have
+her fling.
+
+Dennison was in the lobby waiting for her. He gave a little gasp of
+delight as he beheld her. Of whom and of what did she remind him? Somebody
+he had seen, somebody he had read about? For the present it escaped him.
+Was she handsome? He could not say; but there was that in her face that
+was always pulling his glance and troubling him for the want of knowing
+why.
+
+The way she carried herself among men had always impressed him. Fearless
+and friendly, and with deep understanding, she created respect wherever
+she went. Men, toughened and coarsened by danger and hardship, somehow
+understood that Jane Norman was not the sort to make love to because one
+happened to be bored. On the other hand, there was something in her that
+called to every man, as a candle calls to the moth; only there were no
+burnt wings; there seemed to be some invisible barrier that kept the
+circling moths beyond the zone of incineration.
+
+Was there fire in her? He wondered. That copper tint in her hair suggested
+it. Magnificent! And what the deuce was the colour of her eyes? Sometimes
+there was a glint of topaz, or cornflower sapphire, gray agate; they were
+the most tantalizing eyes he had ever gazed into.
+
+"Hungry?" he greeted her.
+
+"For fourteen months!"
+
+"Do you know what?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I'd give a year of my life for a club steak and all the regular
+fixings."
+
+"That isn't fair! You've gone and spoiled my dinner."
+
+"Wishy-washy chicken! How I hate tin cans! Pancakes and maple syrup!
+What?"
+
+"Sliced tomatoes with sugar and vinegar!"
+
+"You don't mean that!"
+
+"I do! I don't care how plebeian it is. Bread and butter and sliced
+tomatoes with sugar and vinegar--better than all the ice cream that ever
+was! Childhood ambrosia! For mercy's sake, let's get in before all the
+wings are gone!"
+
+They entered the huge dining room with its pattering Chinese boys--entered
+it laughing--while all the time there was at bottom a single identical
+thought--the father.
+
+Would they see him again? Would he be here at one of the tables? Would a
+break come, or would the affair go on eternally?
+
+"I know what it is!" he cried, breaking through the spell.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Ever read 'Phra the Phoenician'?"
+
+"Why, yes. But what is what?"
+
+"For days I've been trying to place you. You're the British heroine!"
+
+She thought for a moment to recall the physical attributes of this
+heroine.
+
+"But I'm not red-headed!" she denied, indignantly.
+
+"But it is! It is the most beautiful head of hair I ever laid eyes on."
+
+"And that is the beginning and the end of me," she returned with a little
+catch in her voice.
+
+The knowledge bore down upon her that her soul was thirsty for this kind
+of talk. She did not care whether he was in earnest or not.
+
+"The beginning, but not the end of you. Your eyes are fine, too. They keep
+me wondering all the time what colour they really are."
+
+"That's very nice of you."
+
+"And the way you carry yourself!"
+
+"Good gracious!"
+
+"You look as if you had come down from Olympus and had lost the way
+back."
+
+"Captain, you're a dear! I've just been wild to have a man say foolish
+things to me." She knew that she might play with this man; that he would
+never venture across the line. "Men have said foolish things to me, but
+always when I was too busy to bother. To-night I haven't anything in this
+wide world to do but listen. Go on."
+
+He laughed, perhaps a little ruefully.
+
+"Is there any fire in you, I wonder?"
+
+"Well?"--tantalizing.
+
+"Honestly, I should like to see you in a rage. I've been watching you for
+weeks, and have found myself irritated by that perpetual calm of yours.
+That day of the riot you stood on the curb as unconcerned as though you
+had been witnessing a movie."
+
+"It is possible that it is the result of seeing so much pain and misery. I
+have been a machine too long. I want to be thrust into the middle of some
+fairy story before I die. I have never been in love, in a violent rage. I
+haven't known anything but work and an abiding discontent. Red hair----"
+
+"But it really isn't red. It's like the copper beech in the sunshine, full
+of glowing embers."
+
+"Are you a poet?"
+
+"On my word, I don't know what I am."
+
+"There is fire enough in you. The way you tossed about our boys and the
+Japs!"
+
+"In the blood. My father and I used to dress for dinner, but we always
+carried the stone axe under our coats. We were both to blame, but only a
+miracle will ever bring us together. I'm sorry I ran into him. It brings
+the old days crowding back."
+
+"I'm sorry."
+
+"Oh, I'll survive! Somewhere there's a niche for me, and sooner or later
+I'll find it."
+
+"He stopped me in the lobby after you left. Wanted to know what name you
+were using. I told him rather bluntly--and he went on. Something in his
+voice--made me want to strike him!"
+
+Dennison balanced a fork on a finger.
+
+"Funny old world, isn't it?"
+
+"Very. But I've seen him somewhere before. Perhaps in a little while it
+will come back.... What an extraordinarily handsome man!"
+
+"Where?"--with a touch of brusqueness.
+
+"Sitting at the table on your left."
+
+The captain turned. The man at the other table caught his eye, smiled, and
+rose. As he approached Jane noticed with a touch of pity that the man
+limped oddly. His left leg seemed to slue about queerly just before it
+touched the floor.
+
+"Well, well! Captain Cleigh!"
+
+Dennison accepted the proffered hand, but coldly.
+
+"On the way back to the States?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The _Wanderer_ is down the river. I suppose you'll be going home on
+her?"
+
+"My orders prevent that."
+
+"Run into the old boy?"
+
+"Naturally," with a wry smile at Jane. "Miss Norman, Mr. Cunningham. Where
+the shark is, there will be the pilot fish."
+
+The stranger turned his eyes toward Jane's. The beauty of those dark eyes
+startled her. Fire opals! They seemed to dig down into her very soul, as
+if searching for something. He bowed gravely and limped back to his
+table.
+
+"I begin to understand," was Dennison's comment.
+
+"Understand what?"
+
+"All this racket about those beads. My father and this man Cunningham in
+the same town generally has significance. It is eight years since I saw
+Cunningham. Of course I could not forget his face, but it's rather
+remarkable that he remembered mine. He is--if you tear away the
+romance--nothing more or less than a thief."
+
+"A thief?"--astonishedly.
+
+"Not the ordinary kind; something of a prince of thieves. He makes it
+possible--he and his ilk--for men like my father to establish private
+museums. And now I'm going to ask you to do me a favour. It's just a
+hunch. Hide those beads the moment you reach your room. They are yours as
+much as any one's, and they may bring you a fancy penny--if my hunch is
+worth anything. Hang that pigtail, for getting you mixed up in this! I
+don't like it."
+
+Jane's hand went slowly to her throat; and even as her fingers touched the
+beads, now warm from contact, she became aware of something electrical
+which drew her eyes compellingly toward the man with the face of Ganymede
+and the limp of Vulcan. Four times she fought in vain, during dinner, that
+drawing, burning glance--and it troubled her. Never before had a man's eye
+forced hers in this indescribable fashion. It was almost as if the man had
+said, "Look at me! Look at me!"
+
+After coffee she decided to retire, and bade Dennison good-night. Once in
+her room she laid the beads on the dresser and sat down by the window to
+recast the remarkable ending of this day. From the stars to the room, from
+the room to the stars, her glance roved uneasily. Had she fallen upon an
+adventure? Was Dennison's theory correct regarding the beads? She rose and
+went to the dresser, inspecting the beads carefully. Positively glass!
+That Anthony Cleigh should be seeking a string of glass beads seemed
+arrant nonsense.
+
+She hung the beads on her throat and viewed the result in the mirror. It
+was then that her eye met a golden glint. She turned to see what had
+caused it, and was astonished to discover on the floor near the molding
+that poor Chinaman's brass hand warmer. She picked it up and turned back
+the jigsawed lid. The receptacle was filled with the ash of punk and
+charcoal.
+
+There came a knock on the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+Now, then, the further adventures of Ling Foo of Woosung Road. He was an
+honest Chinaman. He would beat you down if he were buying, or he would
+overcharge you if he were selling. There was nothing dishonest in this; it
+was legitimate business. He was only shrewd, not crooked. But on this day
+he came into contact with a situation that tried his soul, and tricked him
+into overplaying his hand.
+
+That morning he had returned to his shop in a contented frame of mind. He
+stood clear of the tragedy of the night before. That had never happened;
+he had dreamed it. Of course he would be wondering whether or not the man
+had died.
+
+When Ling Foo went forth with his business in his pack he always closed
+the shop. Here in upper Woosung Road it would not have paid him to hire a
+clerk. His wife, obedient creature though she was, spoke almost no
+pidgin--business--English; and besides that, she was a poor bargainer.
+
+It was hard by noon when he let himself into the shop. The first object he
+sought was his metal pipe. Two puffs, and the craving was satisfied. He
+took up his counting rack and slithered the buttons back and forth. He had
+made three sales at the Astor and two at the Palace, which was fair
+business, considering the times.
+
+A shadow fell across the till top. Ling Foo raised his slanted eyes. His
+face was like a graven Buddha's, but there was a crackling in his ears as
+of many fire-crackers. There he stood--the man with the sluing walk! Ling
+Foo still wore a queue, so his hair could not very well stand on end.
+
+"You speak English."
+
+It was not a question; it was a statement.
+
+Ling Foo shrugged.
+
+"Can do."
+
+"Cut out the pidgin. Your neighbour says you speak English fluently. At
+Moy's tea-house restaurant they say that you lived in California for
+several years."
+
+"Twelve," said Ling Foo with a certain dry humour.
+
+"Why didn't you admit me last night?"
+
+"Shop closed."
+
+"Where is it?"
+
+"Where is what?" asked the merchant.
+
+"The string of glass beads you found on the floor last night."
+
+A sense of disaster rolled over the Oriental. Had he been overhasty in
+ridding himself of the beads? Patience! Wait a bit! Let the stranger open
+the door to the mystery.
+
+"Glass beads?" he repeated, ruminatively.
+
+"I will give you ten gold for them."
+
+Ha! Now they were getting somewhere. Ten gold! Then those devil beads had
+some worth outside a jeweller's computations? Ling Foo smiled and spread
+his yellow hands.
+
+"I haven't them."
+
+"Where are they?"
+
+The Oriental loaded his pipe and fired it.
+
+"Where is the man who stumbled in here last night?" he countered.
+
+"His body is probably in the Yang-tse by now," returned Cunningham,
+grimly.
+
+He knew his Oriental. He would have to frighten this Chinaman badly, or
+engage his cupidity to a point where resistance would be futile.
+
+There was a devil brooding over his head. Ling Foo felt it strangely. His
+charms were in the far room. He would have to fend off the devil without
+material aid, and that was generally a hopeless job. With that twist of
+Oriental thought which will never be understood by the Occidental, Ling
+Foo laid down his campaign.
+
+"I found it, true. But I sold it this morning."
+
+"For how much?"
+
+"Four Mex."
+
+Cunningham laughed. It was actually honest laughter, provoked by a lively
+sense of humour.
+
+"To whom did you sell it, and where can I find the buyer?"
+
+Ling Foo picked up the laughter, as it were, and gave his individual quirk
+to it.
+
+"I see," said Cunningham, gravely.
+
+"So?"
+
+"Get that necklace back for me and I will give you a hundred gold."
+
+"Five hundred."
+
+"You saw what happened last night."
+
+"Oh, you will not beat in my head," Ling Foo declared, easily. "What is
+there about this string of beads that makes it worth a hundred gold--and
+life worth nothing?"
+
+"Very well," said Cunningham, resignedly. "I am a secret agent of the
+British Government. That string of glass beads is the key to a code
+relating to the uprisings in India. The loss of it will cost a great deal
+of money and time. Bring it back here this afternoon, and I will pay down
+five hundred gold."
+
+"I agree," replied Ling Foo, tossing his pipe into the alcove. "But no one
+must follow me. I do not trust you. There is nothing to prevent you from
+robbing me in the street and refusing to pay me. And where will you get
+five hundred gold? Gold has vanished. Even the leaf has all but
+disappeared."
+
+Cunningham dipped his hand into a pocket, and magically a dozen double
+eagles rolled and vibrated upon the counter, sending into Ling Foo's ears
+that music so peculiar to gold. Many days had gone by since he had set his
+gaze upon the yellow metal. His hand reached down--only to feel--but not
+so quickly as the white hand, which scooped up the coin trickily, with the
+skill of a prestidigitator.
+
+"Five hundred gold, then. But are you sure you can get the beads back?"
+
+Ling Foo smiled.
+
+"I have a way. I will meet you in the lobby of the Astor House at five";
+and he bowed with Oriental courtesy.
+
+"Agreed. All aboveboard, remember, or you will feel the iron hand of the
+British Government."
+
+Ling Foo doubted that, but he kept this doubt to himself.
+
+"I warn you, I shall go armed. You will bring the gold to the Astor House.
+If I see you after I depart----"
+
+"Lord love you, once that code key is in my hands you can go to heaven or
+the devil, as you please! We live in rough times, Ling Foo."
+
+"So we do. There is a stain on the floor, about where you stand. It is the
+blood of a white man."
+
+"What would you, when a comrade attempts to deceive you?"
+
+"At five in the lobby of the Astor House. Good day," concluded Ling Foo,
+fingering the buttons on his counting rack.
+
+Cunningham limped out into the cold sunshine. Ling Foo shook his head. So
+like a boy's, that face! He shuddered slightly. He knew that a savage
+devil lay ready behind that handsome mask--he had seen it last night. But
+five hundred gold--for a string of glass beads!
+
+Ling Foo was an honest man. He would pay you cash for cash in a bargain.
+If he overcharged you that was your fault, but he never sold you
+imitations on the basis that you would not know the difference. If he sold
+you a Ming jar--for twice what it was worth in the great marts--experts
+would tell you that it was Ming. He had some jade of superior quality--the
+translucent deep apple-green. He never carried it about; he never even
+spoke of it unless he was sure that the prospective customer was wealthy.
+
+His safe was in a corner of his workshop. An American yegg would have
+laughed at it, opened it as easily as a ripe peach; but in this district
+it was absolute security. Ling Foo was obliged to keep a safe, for often
+he had valuable pearls to take care of, sometimes to put new vigour in
+dying lustre, sometimes to peel a pearl on the chance that under the dull
+skin lay the gem.
+
+He trotted to the front door and locked it; then he trotted into his
+workshop, planning. If the glass beads were worth five hundred, wasn't it
+likely they would be worth a thousand? If this man who limped had stuck to
+the hundred Ling Foo knew that he would have surrendered eventually. But
+the ease with which the stranger made the jump from one to five convinced
+Ling Foo that there could be no harm in boosting five to ten. If there was
+a taint of crookedness anywhere, that would be on the other side. Ling Foo
+knew where the beads were, and he would transfer them for one thousand
+gold. Smart business, nothing more than that. He had the whip hand.
+
+Out of his safe he took a blackwood box, beautifully carved, Cantonese.
+Headbands, earrings, rings, charms, necklaces, tomb ornaments, some of
+them royal, all of them nearly as ancient as the hills of Kwanlun, from
+which most of them had been quarried--jade. He trickled them from palm to
+palm and one by one returned the objects to the box. In the end he
+retained two strings of beads so alike that it was difficult to discern
+any difference. One was Kwanlun jade, royal loot; the other was a copy in
+Nanshan stone. The first was priceless, worth what any fool collector was
+ready to pay; the copy was worth perhaps a hundred gold. Held to the
+light, there was a subtle difference; but only an expert could have told
+you what this difference was. The royal jade did not catch the light so
+strongly as the copy; the touch of human warmth had slightly dulled the
+stone.
+
+Ling Foo transferred the copy to a purse he wore attached to his belt
+under the blue jacket. The young woman would never be able to resist the
+jade. She would return the glass instantly. A thousand gold, less the cost
+of the jade! Good business!
+
+But for once his Oriental astuteness overreached, as has been seen. And to
+add to his discomfiture, he never again saw the copy of the Kwanlun,
+representing the virtue of the favourite wife.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I am an honest man," he said. "The tombs of my ancestors are not
+neglected. When I say I could not get it I speak the truth. But I believe
+I can get it later."
+
+"How?" asked Cunningham. They were in the office, or bureau, of the Astor
+House, which the manager had turned over to them for the moment.
+"Remember, the arm of the British Government is long."
+
+Ling Foo shrugged.
+
+"Being an honest man, I do not fear. She would have given it to me but for
+that officer. He knew something about jade."
+
+Cunningham nodded.
+
+"Conceivably he would." He jingled the gold in his pocket. "How do you
+purpose to get the beads?"
+
+"Go to the lady's room late. I left the jade with her. Alone, she will not
+resist. I saw it in her eyes. But it will be difficult."
+
+"I see. For you to get into the hotel late. I'll arrange that with the
+manager. You will be coming to my room. What floor is her room on?"
+
+"The third."
+
+"The same as mine. That falls nicely. Return then at half after ten. You
+will come to my room for the gold."
+
+Ling Foo saw his thousand shrink to the original five hundred, but there
+was no help for it. At half after ten he knocked on the panel of Jane's
+door and waited. He knocked again; still the summons was not answered. The
+third assault was emphatic. Ling Foo heard footsteps, but behind him. He
+turned. The meddling young officer was striding toward him.
+
+"What are you doing here?" Dennison demanded.
+
+His own appearance in the corridor at this hour might have been
+subjectable to inquiry. He had left Jane at nine. He had seen her to the
+lift. Perhaps he had walked the Bund for an hour or two, but worriedly.
+The thought of the arrival in Shanghai of his father and the rogue
+Cunningham convinced him that some queer game was afoot, and that it
+hinged somehow upon those beads.
+
+There was no sighing in regard to his father, for the past that was. An
+astonishing but purely accidental meeting; to-morrow each would go his
+separate way again. All that was a closed page. He had long ago readjusted
+his outlook on the basis that reconciliation was hopeless.
+
+A sudden impulse spun him on his heel, and he hurried back to the Astor.
+The hour did not matter, or the possibility that Jane might be abed. He
+would ask permission to become the temporary custodian of the beads. What
+were they, to have brought his father across the Pacific--if indeed they
+had? Anyhow, he would end his own anxiety in regard to Jane by assuming
+the risks, if any, himself.
+
+No one questioned him; his uniform was a passport that required no visé.
+
+Ling Foo eyed him blandly.
+
+"I am leaving for the province in the morning, so I had to come for my
+jade to-night. But the young lady is not in her room."
+
+"She must be!" cried Dennison, alarmed. "Miss Norman?" he called, beating
+on the door.
+
+No sound answered from within. Dennison pondered for a moment. Ling Foo
+also pondered--apprehensively. He suspected that some misfortune had
+befallen the young woman, for her kind did not go prowling alone round
+Shanghai at night. Slue-Foot! Should he utter his suspicion to this
+American officer? But if it should become a police affair! Bitterly he
+arraigned himself for disclosing his hand to Slue-Foot. That demon had
+forestalled him. No doubt by now he had the beads. Ten thousand devils
+pursue him!
+
+Dennison struck his hands together, and by and by a sleepy Chinese boy
+came scuffling along the corridor.
+
+"Talkee manager come topside," said Dennison. When the manager arrived,
+perturbed, Dennison explained the situation.
+
+"Will you open the door?"
+
+The manager agreed to do that. The bedroom was empty. The bed had not been
+touched. But there was no evidence that the occupant did not intend to
+return.
+
+"We shall leave everything just as it is," said Dennison, authoritatively.
+"I am her friend. If she does not return by one o'clock I shall notify the
+police and have the young lady's belongings transferred to the American
+consulate. She is under the full protection of the United States
+Government. You will find out if any saw her leave the hotel, and what the
+time was. Stay here in the doorway while I look about."
+
+He saw the jade necklace reposing in the soap dish, and in an ironical
+mood he decided not to announce the discovery to the Chinaman. Let him pay
+for his cupidity. In some mysterious manner he had got his yellow claws on
+those infernal beads, and the rogue Cunningham had gone to him with a
+substantial bribe. So let the pigtail wail for his jade.
+
+On the dresser he saw a sheet of paper partly opened. Beside it lay a torn
+envelope. Dennison's heart lost a beat. The handwriting was his father's!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+Jane had gone to meet his father. How to secrete this note without being
+observed by either the manager or the Chinaman? An accident came to his
+aid. Someone in the corridor banged a door violently, and as the manager's
+head and Ling Foo's jerked about, Dennison stuffed the note into a
+pocket.
+
+A trap! Dennison wasn't alarmed--he was only furious. Jane had walked into
+a trap. She had worn those accursed beads when his father had approached
+her by the bookstall that afternoon. The note had attacked her curiosity
+from a perfectly normal angle. Dennison had absorbed enough of the note's
+contents to understand how readily Jane had walked into the trap.
+
+Very well. He would wait in the lobby until one; then if Jane had not
+returned he would lay the plans of a counter-attack, and it would be a
+rough one. Of course no bodily harm would befall Jane, but she would
+probably be harried and bullied out of those beads. But would she? It was
+not unlikely that she would become a pretty handful, once she learned she
+had been tricked. If she balked him, how would the father act? The old
+boy was ruthless when he particularly wanted something.
+
+If anything should happen to her--an event unlooked for, accidental, over
+which his father would have no control--this note would bring the old boy
+into a peck of trouble; and Dennison was loyal enough not to wish this to
+happen. And yet it would be only just to make the father pay once for his
+high-handedness. That would be droll--to see his father in the dock,
+himself as a witness against him! Here was the germ of a tiptop drama.
+
+But all this worry was doubtless being wasted upon mere supposition. Jane
+might turn over the beads without bargaining, provided the father had any
+legal right to them, which Dennison strongly doubted.
+
+He approached Ling Foo and seized him roughly by the arm.
+
+"What do you know about these glass beads?"
+
+Ling Foo elevated a shoulder and let it fall.
+
+"Nothing, except that the man who owns them demands that I recover them."
+
+"And who is this man?"
+
+"I don't know his name."
+
+"That won't pass. You tell me who he is or I'll turn you over to the
+police."
+
+"I am an honest man," replied Ling Foo with dignity. He appealed to the
+manager.
+
+"I have known Ling Foo a long time, sir. He is perfectly honest."
+
+Ling Foo nodded. He knew that this recommendation, honest as it was, would
+have weight with the American.
+
+"But you have some appointment with this man. Where is that to be? I
+demand to know that."
+
+Ling Foo saw his jade vanish along with his rainbow gold. His early
+suppositions had been correct.
+
+Those were devil beads, and evil befell any who touched them.
+
+Silently he cursed the soldier's ancestors half a thousand years back. If
+the white fool hadn't meddled in the parlour that afternoon!
+
+"Come with me," he said, finally.
+
+The game was played out; the counters had gone back to the basket. He had
+no desire to come into contact with police officials. Only it was as
+bitter as the gall of chicken, and he purposed to lessen his own
+discomfort by making the lame man share it. Oriental humour.
+
+Dennison and the hotel manager followed him curiously. At the end of the
+corridor Ling Foo stopped and knocked on a door. It was opened
+immediately.
+
+"Ah! Oh!"
+
+The inflections touched Dennison's sense of humour, and he smiled. A
+greeting with a snap-back of dismay.
+
+"I'm not surprised," he said. "I had a suspicion I'd find you in this
+somewhere."
+
+"Find me in what?" asked Cunningham, his poise recovered. He, too, began
+to smile. "Won't you come in?"
+
+"What about these glass beads?"
+
+"Glass beads? Oh, yes. But why?"
+
+"I fancy you'd better come out into the clear, Cunningham," said Dennison,
+grimly.
+
+"You wish to know about those beads? Very well, I'll explain, because
+something has happened--I know not what. You all look so infernally
+serious. Those beads are a key to a code. The British Government is keenly
+anxious to recover this key. In the hands of certain Hindus those beads
+would constitute bad medicine."
+
+Ling Foo spread his hands relievedly.
+
+"That is the story. I was to receive five hundred gold for their
+recovery."
+
+"A code key," said Dennison, musing.
+
+He knew Cunningham was lying. Anthony Cleigh wasn't the man to run across
+half the world for a British code key. On the other hand, perhaps it would
+be wise to let the hotel manager and the Chinaman continue in the belief
+that the affair concerned a British code.
+
+"If I did not know you tolerably well----"
+
+"My dear captain, you don't know me at all," interrupted Cunningham. "Have
+you got the beads?"
+
+"I have not. I doubt if you will ever lay eyes on them again."
+
+Something flashed across the handsome face. Ling Foo alone recognized it.
+He had glimpsed it, this expression, outside his window the night before.
+He recalled the dark stain on the floor of his shop, and he also
+recollected a saying of Confucius relative to greed. He wished he was back
+in his shop, well out of this muddle. The jade could go, valuable as it
+was. With his hands tucked in his sleeves he waited.
+
+Dennison turned upon the manager. He wanted to be alone with Cunningham.
+
+"Go down and make inquiries, and take this Chinaman with you. I'll be with
+you shortly." As soon as the two were out of the way Dennison said:
+"Cunningham, the lady who wore those beads at dinner to-night has gone out
+alone, wearing them. If I find that you are anywhere back of this
+venture--if she does not return shortly--I will break you as I would a
+churchwarden pipe."
+
+Cunningham appeared genuinely taken aback.
+
+"She went out alone?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you notified the police?"
+
+"Not yet. I'm giving her until one; then I shall start something."
+
+"Something tells me," said Cunningham, easily, "that Miss Norman is in no
+danger. But she would never have gone out if I had been in the lobby. If
+she has not returned by one call me. Any assistance I can give will be
+given gladly. Women ought never to be mixed up in affairs such as this
+one, on this side of the world. Tell your father that he ought to know by
+this time that he is no match for me."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Innocent! You know very well what I mean. If you hadn't a suspicion of
+what has happened you would be roaring up and down the corridors with the
+police. You run true to the breed. It's a good one, I'll admit. But your
+father will regret this night's work."
+
+"Perhaps. Here, read this."
+
+Dennison extended the note. Cunningham, his brows bent, ran through the
+missive.
+
+  MISS NORMAN: Will you do me the honour to meet me at the bridgehead
+  at half-past nine--practically at once? My son and I are not on
+  friendly terms. Still, I am his father, and I'd like to hear what he
+  has been doing over here. I will have a limousine, and we can ride
+  out on the Bubbling Well Road while we talk.
+
+                                                     ANTHONY CLEIGH.
+
+"Didn't know," said Cunningham, returning the note, "that you two were at
+odds. But this is a devil of a mix-up, if it's what I think."
+
+"What do you think?"
+
+"That he's abducted her--carried her off to the yacht."
+
+"He's no fool," was the son's defense.
+
+"He isn't, eh? Lord love you, sonny, your father and I are the two biggest
+fools on all God's earth!"
+
+The door closed sharply in Dennison's face and the key rasped in the
+lock.
+
+For a space Dennison did not stir. Why should he wish to protect his
+father? Between his father and this handsome rogue there was small choice.
+The old boy made such rogues possible. But supposing Cleigh had wished
+really to quiz Jane? To find out something about these seven years, lean
+and hard, with stretches of idleness and stretches of furious labour,
+loneliness? Well, the father would learn that in all these seven years the
+son had never faltered from the high level he had set for his conduct.
+That was a stout staff to lean on--he had the right to look all men
+squarely in the eye.
+
+He had been educated to inherit millions; he had not been educated to
+support himself by work in a world that specialized. He had in these seven
+years been a jeweller's clerk, an auctioneer in a salesroom; he had
+travelled from Baluchistan to Damascus with carpet caravans, but he had
+never forged ahead financially. Generally the end of a job had been the
+end of his resources. One fact the thought of which never failed to buck
+him up--he had never traded on his father's name.
+
+Then had come the war. He had returned to America, trained, and they had
+assigned him to Russia. But that had not been without its reward--he had
+met Jane.
+
+In a New York bank, to his credit, was the sum of twenty thousand dollars,
+at compound interest for seven years, ready to answer to the scratch of a
+pen, but he had sworn he would never touch a dollar of it. Never before
+had the thought of it risen so strongly to tempt him. His for the mere
+scratch of a pen!
+
+In the lobby he found the manager pacing nervously, while Ling Foo sat
+patiently and inscrutably.
+
+"Why do you wait?" inquired Dennison, irritably.
+
+"The lady has some jade of mine," returned Ling Foo, placidly. "It was a
+grave mistake."
+
+"What was?"
+
+"That you interfered this afternoon. The lady would be in her room at this
+hour. The devil beads would not be casting a spell on us."
+
+"Devil beads, eh?"
+
+Ling Foo shrugged and ran his hands into his sleeves. Somewhere along the
+banks of the Whangpoo or the Yang-tse would be the body of an unknown, but
+Ling Foo's lips were locked quite as securely as the dead man's. Devil
+beads they were.
+
+"When did the man upstairs leave the beads with you?"
+
+"Last night."
+
+"For what reason?"
+
+"He will tell you. It is none of my affair now." And that was all Dennison
+could dig out of Ling Foo.
+
+Jane Norman did not return at one o'clock; in fact, she never returned to
+the Astor House. Dennison waited until three; then he went back to the
+Palace, and Ling Foo to his shop and oblivion.
+
+Dennison decided that he did not want the police in the affair. In that
+event there would be a lot of publicity, followed by the kind of talk that
+stuck. He was confident that he could handle the affair alone. So he
+invented a white lie, and nobody questioned it because of his uniform.
+Miss Norman had found friends, and shortly she would send for her effects;
+but until that time she desired the consulate to take charge. Under the
+eyes of the relieved hotel manager and an indifferent clerk from the
+consulate the following morning Dennison packed Jane's belongings and
+conveyed them to the consulate, which was hard by. Next he proceeded to
+the water front and engaged a motor boat. At eleven o'clock he drew up
+alongside the _Wanderer II_.
+
+"Hey, there!" shouted a seaman. "Sheer off! Orders to receive no
+visitors!"
+
+Dennison began to mount, ignoring the order. It was a confusing situation
+for the sailor. If he threw this officer into the yellow water--as
+certainly he would have thrown a civilian--Uncle Sam might jump on his
+back and ride him to clink. Against this was the old man, the very devil
+for obedience to his orders. If he pushed this lad over, the clink; if he
+let him by, the old man's foot. And while the worried seaman was reaching
+for water with one hand and wind with the other, as the saying goes,
+Dennison thrust him roughly aside, crossed the deck to the main
+companionway, and thundered down into the salon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+Cleigh sat before a card table; he was playing Chinese Canfield. He looked
+up, but he neither rose nor dropped the half-spent deck of cards he held
+in his hand. The bronzed face, the hard agate blue of the eyes that met
+his own, the utter absence of visible agitation, took the wind out of
+Dennison's sails and left him all a-shiver, like a sloop coming about on a
+fresh tack. He had made his entrance stormily enough, but now the hot
+words stuffed his throat to choking.
+
+Cleigh was thirty years older than his son; he was a finished master of
+sentimental emotions; he could keep all his thoughts out of his
+countenance when he so willed. But powerful as his will was, in this
+instance it failed to reach down into his heart; and that thumped against
+his ribs rather painfully. The boy!
+
+Dennison, aware that he stood close to the ridiculous, broke the spell and
+advanced.
+
+"I have come for Miss Norman," he said.
+
+Cleigh scrutinized the cards and shifted one.
+
+"I found your note to her. I've a launch. I don't know what the game is,
+but I'm going to take Miss Norman back with me if I have to break in every
+door on board!"
+
+Cleigh stood up. As he did so Dodge, the Texan appeared in the doorway to
+the dining salon. Dennison saw the blue barrel of a revolver.
+
+"A gunman, eh? All right. Let's see if he'll shoot," said the son, walking
+deliberately toward Dodge.
+
+"No, Dodge!" Cleigh called out as the Texan, raised the revolver. "You may
+go."
+
+Dodge, a good deal astonished, backed out. Once more father and son stared
+at each other.
+
+"Better call it off," advised the son. "You can't hold Miss Norman--and I
+can make a serious charge. Bring her at once, or I'll go for her. And the
+Lord help the woodwork if I start!"
+
+But even as he uttered the threat Dennison heard a sound behind. He
+turned, but not soon enough. In a second he was on the floor, three husky
+seamen mauling him. They had their hands full for a while, but in the end
+they conquered.
+
+"What next, sir?" asked one of the sailors, breathing hard.
+
+"Tie him up and lock him in Cabin Two."
+
+The first order was executed. After Dennison's arms and ankles were bound
+the men stood him up.
+
+"Are you really my father?"
+
+Cleigh returned to his cards and shuffled them for a new deal.
+
+"Don't untie him. He might walk through the partition. He will have the
+freedom of the deck when we are out of the delta."
+
+Dennison was thereupon carried to Cabin Two, and deposited upon the
+stationary bed. He began to laugh. There was a sardonic note in this
+laughter, like that which greets you when you recount some incredible
+tale. His old cabin!
+
+The men shook their heads, as if confronted by something so unusual that
+it wasn't worth while to speculate upon it. The old man's son! They went
+out, locking the door. By this time Dennison's laughter had reached the
+level of shouting, but only he knew how near it was to tears--wrathful,
+murderous, miserable tears! He fought his bonds terrifically for a moment,
+then relaxed.
+
+For seven years he had been hugging the hope that when he and his father
+met blood would tell, and that their differences would vanish in a strong
+handclasp; and here he lay, trussed hand and foot, in his old cabin, not a
+crack in that granite lump his father called a heart!
+
+A childish thought! Some day to take that twenty thousand with accrued
+interest, ride up to the door, step inside, dump the silver on that old
+red Samarkand, and depart--forever.
+
+Where was she? This side of the passage or the other?
+
+"Miss Norman?" he called.
+
+"Yes?" came almost instantly from the cabin aft.
+
+"This is Captain Dennison. I'm tied up and lying on the bed. Can you hear
+me distinctly?"
+
+"Yes. Your father has made a prisoner of you? Of all the inhuman acts! You
+came in search of me?"
+
+"Naturally. Have you those infernal beads?"
+
+"No."
+
+Dennison twisted about until he had his shoulders against the brass rail
+of the bed head.
+
+"What happened?"
+
+"It was a trick. It was not to talk about you--he wanted the beads, and
+that made me furious."
+
+"Were you hurt in the struggle?"
+
+"There wasn't any. I really don't know what possessed me. Perhaps I was a
+bit hypnotized. Perhaps I was curious. Perhaps I wanted--some excitement.
+On my word, I don't know just what happened. Anyhow, here I am--in a
+dinner gown, bound for Hong-Kong, so he says. He offered me ten thousand
+for the beads, and my freedom, if I would promise not to report his
+high-handedness; and I haven't uttered a sound."
+
+"Heaven on earth, why didn't you accept his offer?"
+
+A moment of silence.
+
+"In the first place, I haven't the beads. In the second place, I want to
+make him all the trouble I possibly can. Now that he has me, he doesn't
+know what to do with me. Hoist by his own petard. Do you want the truth?
+Well, I'm not worried in the least. I feel as if I'd been invited to some
+splendiferous picnic."
+
+"That's foolish," he remonstrated.
+
+"Of course it is. But it's the sort of foolishness I've been aching for
+all my life. I knew something was going to happen. I broke my hand mirror
+night before last. Two times seven years' bad luck. Now he has me, I'll
+wager he's half frightened out of his wits. But what made you think of the
+yacht?"
+
+"We forced the door of your room, and I found the note. Has he told you
+what makes those infernal beads so precious?"
+
+"No. I can't figure that out."
+
+"No more can I. Did he threaten you?"
+
+"Yes. Would I enter the launch peacefully, or would he have to carry me? I
+didn't want my gown spoiled--it's the only decent one I have. I'm not
+afraid. It isn't as though he were a stranger. Being your father, he would
+never stoop to any indignity. But he'll find he has caught a tartar. I
+had an idea you'd find me."
+
+"Well, I have. But you won't get to Hong-Kong. The minute he liberates me
+I'll sneak into the wireless room and bring the destroyers. I didn't
+notify the police from a bit of foolish sentiment. I didn't quite want you
+mixed up in the story. I had your things conveyed to the consulate."
+
+"My story--which few men would believe. I've thought of that. Are you
+smoking?"
+
+"Smoking, with my hands tied behind my back? Not so you'd notice it."
+
+"I smell tobacco smoke--a good cigar, too."
+
+"Then someone is in the passage listening."
+
+Silence. Anthony Cleigh eyed his perfecto rather ruefully and tiptoed back
+to the salon. Hoist by his own petard. He was beginning to wonder. Cleigh
+was a man who rarely regretted an act, but in the clear light of day he
+was beginning to have his doubts regarding this one. A mere feather on the
+wrong side of the scale, and the British destroyers would be atop of him
+like a flock of kites. Abduction! Cut down to bedrock, he had laid himself
+open to that. He ran his fingers through his cowlicks. But drat the woman!
+why had she accepted the situation so docilely? Since midnight not a sound
+out of her, not a wail, not a sob. Now he had her, he couldn't let her
+go. She was right there.
+
+There was one man in the crew Cleigh had begun to dislike intensely, and
+he had been manoeuvring ever since Honolulu to find a legitimate excuse to
+give the man his papers. Something about the fellow suggested covert
+insolence; he had the air of a beachcomber who had unexpectedly fallen
+into a soft berth, and it had gone to his head. He had been standing watch
+at the ladder head, and against positive orders he had permitted a visitor
+to pass him. To Cleigh this was the handle he had been hunting for. He
+summoned the man.
+
+"Get your duffle," said Cleigh.
+
+"What's that, sir?"
+
+"Get your stuff. You're through. You had positive orders, and you let a
+man by."
+
+"But his uniform fussed me, sir. I didn't know just how to act."
+
+"Get your stuff! Mr. Cleve will give you your pay. My orders are absolute.
+Off with you!"
+
+The sailor sullenly obeyed. He found the first officer alone in the chart
+house.
+
+"The boss has sent me for my pay, Mr. Cleve. I'm fired." Flint grinned
+amiably.
+
+"Fired? Well, well," said Cleve, "that's certainly tough luck--all this
+way from home. I'll have to pay you in Federal Reserve bills. The old man
+has the gold."
+
+"Federal Reserve it is. Forty-six dollars in Uncle Samuels."
+
+The first officer solemnly counted out the sum and laid it on the palm of
+the discharged man.
+
+"Tough world."
+
+"Oh, I'm not worrying! I'll bet you this forty-six against ten that I've
+another job before midnight."
+
+Mr. Cleve grinned.
+
+"Always looking for sure-thing bets! Better hail that bumboat with the
+vegetables to row you into town. The old man'll dump you over by hand if
+he finds you here between now and sundown."
+
+"I'll try the launch there. Tell the lad his fare ain't goin' back to
+Shanghai. Of course it makes it a bit inconvenient, packing and unpacking;
+but I guess I can live through it. But what about the woman?"
+
+Cleve plucked at his chin.
+
+"Messes up the show a bit. Pippin, though. I like 'em when they walk
+straight and look straight like this one. Notice her hair? You never tame
+that sort beyond parlour manners. But I don't like her on board here, or
+the young fellow, either. Don't know him, but he's likely to bust the
+yacht wide open if he gets loose."
+
+"Well, so long, Mary! Know what my first move'll be?"
+
+"A bottle somewhere. But mind your step! Don't monkey with the stuff
+beyond normal. You know what I mean."
+
+"Sure! Only a peg or two, after all this psalm-singing!"
+
+"I know, Flint. But this game is no joke. You know what happened in town?
+Morrissy was near croaked."
+
+Flint's face lost some of its gayety.
+
+"Oh, I know how to handle the stuff! See you later."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Cleigh decided to see what the girl's temper was, so he entered the
+passage on the full soles of his shoes. He knocked on her door.
+
+"Miss Norman?"
+
+"Well?"
+
+That was a good sign; she was ready to talk.
+
+"I have come to repeat that offer."
+
+"Mr. Cleigh, I have nothing to say so long as the key is on the wrong side
+of the door."
+
+Cleigh heard a chuckle from Cabin Two.
+
+"Very well," he said. "Remember, I offered you liberty conditionally. If
+you suffer inconveniences after to-night you will have only yourself to
+thank."
+
+"Have you calculated that some day you will have to let me go?"
+
+"Yes, I have calculated on that."
+
+"And that I shall go to the nearest authorities and report this action?"
+
+"If you will think a moment," said Cleigh, his tone monotonously level,
+"you will dismiss that plan for two reasons: First, that no one will
+believe you; second, that no one will want to believe you. That's as near
+as I care to put it. Your imagination will grasp it."
+
+"Instantly!" cried the girl, hotly. "I knew you to be cold and hard, but I
+did not believe you were a scoundrel--having known your son!"
+
+"I have no son."
+
+"Oh, yes, you have!"
+
+"I disowned him. He is absolutely nothing to me."
+
+"I do not believe that," came back through the cabin door.
+
+"Nevertheless, it is the truth. The queer part is, I've tried to resurrect
+the father instinct, and can't. I've tried to go round the wall--over it.
+I might just as well try to climb the Upper Himalayas."
+
+In Cabin Two the son stared at the white ceiling. It seemed to him that
+all his vitals had been wrenched out of him, leaving him hollow, empty. He
+knew his father's voice; it rang with truth.
+
+"I offer you ten thousand."
+
+"The key is still on the outside."
+
+"I'm afraid to trust you."
+
+"We understand each other perfectly," said Jane, ironically.
+
+The son smiled. The sense of emptiness vanished, and there came into his
+blood a warmth as sweet as it was strong. Jane Norman, angel of mercy. He
+heard his father speaking again:
+
+"Since you will have it so, you will go to Hong-Kong?"
+
+"To Patagonia if you wish! You cannot scare me by threatening me with
+travel on a private yacht. I had the beads, it is true; but at this moment
+I haven't the slightest idea where they are; and if I had I should not
+tell you. I refuse to buy my liberty; you will have to give it to me
+without conditions."
+
+"I'm sorry I haven't anything on board in shape of women's clothes, but
+I'll send for your stuff if you wish."
+
+"That is the single consideration you have shown me. My belongings are at
+the American consulate, and I should be glad to have them."
+
+"You will find paper and ink in the escritoire. Write me an order and I
+promise to attend to the matter personally."
+
+"And search through everything at your leisure!"
+
+Cleigh blushed, and he heard his son chuckle again. He had certainly
+caught a tartar--possibly two. With a twisted smile he recalled the old
+yarn of the hunter who caught the bear by the tail. Willing to let go, and
+daring not!
+
+"Still I agree," continued the girl. "I want my own familiar things--if I
+must take this forced voyage. But mark me, Mr. Cleigh, you will pay some
+day! I'm not the clinging kind, and I shall fight you tooth and nail from
+the first hour of my freedom. I'm not without friends."
+
+"Never in this world!" came resonantly from Cabin Two.
+
+Cleigh longed to get away. There was a rumbling and a threatening inside
+of him that needed space--Gargantuan laughter. Not the clinging kind, this
+girl! And the boy, walking straight at Dodge's villainous revolver! Why,
+he would need the whole crew behind him when he liberated these two! But
+he knew that the laughter striving for articulation was not the kind heard
+in Elysian fields!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+"If you will write the order I will execute it at once. The consulate
+closes early."
+
+"I'll write it, but how will I get it to you? The door closes below the
+sill."
+
+"When you are ready, call, and I will open the door a little."
+
+"It would be better if you opened it full wide. This is China--I
+understand that. But we are both Americans, and there's a good sound law
+covering an act like this."
+
+"But it does not reach as far as China. Besides, I have an asset back in
+the States. It is my word. I have never broken it to any man or woman, and
+I expect I never shall. You have, or have had, what I consider my
+property. You have hedged the question; you haven't been frank."
+
+The son listened intently.
+
+"I bought that string of glass beads in good faith of a Chinaman--Ling
+Foo. I consider them mine--that is, if they are still in my possession.
+Between the hour I met you last night and the moment of Captain Dennison's
+entrance to my room considerable time had elapsed."
+
+"Sufficient for a rogue like Cunningham to make good use of," supplemented
+the prisoner in Cabin Two. "There's a way of finding out the facts."
+
+"Indeed?"
+
+"Yes. You used to carry a planchette that once belonged to the actress
+Rachel. Why not give it a whirl? Everybody's doing it."
+
+Cleigh eyed Cabin Four, then Cabin Two, and shook his head slightly,
+dubiously. He was not getting on well. To come into contact with a strong
+will was always acceptable; and a strong will in a woman was a novelty.
+All at once it struck him forcibly that he stood on the edge of boredom;
+that the lure which had brought him fully sixteen thousand miles was
+losing its bite. Was he growing old, drying up?
+
+"Will you tell me what it is about these beads that makes you offer ten
+thousand for them? Glass--anybody could see that. What makes them as
+valuable as pearls?"
+
+"They are love beads," answered Cleigh, mockingly. "They are far more
+potent than powdered pearls. You have worn them about your throat, Miss
+Norman, and the sequence is inevitable."
+
+"Nonsense!" cried Jane.
+
+Dennison added his mite to the confusion:
+
+"I thought that scoundrel Cunningham was lying. He said the string was a
+code key belonging to the British Intelligence Office."
+
+"Rot!" Cleigh exploded.
+
+"So I thought."
+
+"But hurry, Miss Norman. The sooner I have that written order on the
+consulate the sooner you'll have your belongings."
+
+"Very well."
+
+Five minutes later she announced that the order was completed, and Cleigh
+opened the door slightly.
+
+"The key will be given you the moment we weigh anchor."
+
+"I say," called the son, "you might drop into the Palace and get my truck,
+too. I'm particular about my toothbrushes." A pause. "I'd like a drink,
+too--if you've got the time."
+
+Cleigh did not answer, but he presently entered Cabin Two, filled a glass
+with water, raised his son's head to a proper angle, and gave him drink.
+
+"Thanks. This business strikes me as the funniest thing I ever heard of!
+You would have done that for a dog."
+
+Cleigh replaced the water carafe in the rack above the wash bowl and went
+out, locking the door. In the salon he called for Dodge:
+
+"I am going into town. I'll be back round five. Don't stir from this
+cabin."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You remember that fellow who was here night before last?"
+
+"The good-looking chap that limped?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And I'm to crease him if he pokes his noodle down the stairs?"
+
+"Exactly! No talk, no palaver! If he starts talking he'll talk you out of
+your boots. Shoot!"
+
+"In the leg? All right."
+
+His employer having gone, Dodge sat in a corner from which he could see
+the companionway and all the passages. He lit a long black cigar, laid his
+formidable revolver on a knee, and began his vigil. A queer job for an old
+cow-punch, for a fact.
+
+To guard an old carpet that didn't have "welcome" on it anywhere--he
+couldn't get that, none whatever. But there was a hundred a week, the best
+grub pile in the world, and the old man's Havanas as often as he pleased.
+Pretty soft!
+
+And he had learned a new trick--shooting target in a rolling sea. He had
+wasted a hundred rounds before getting the hang of it. Maybe these sailors
+hadn't gone pop-eyed when they saw him pumping lead into the bull's-eye
+six times running? Tin cans and raw potatoes in the water, too. Something
+to brag about if he ever got back home.
+
+He broke the gun and inspected the cylinder. There wasn't as much grease
+on the cartridges as he would have liked.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Miss Norman?" called Dennison.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Are you comfortable?"
+
+"Oh, I'm all right. I'm only furious with rage, that's all. You are still
+tied?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"I really don't understand your father."
+
+"I have never understood him. Yet he was very kind to me when I was
+little. I don't suppose there is anything in heaven or on earth that he's
+afraid of."
+
+"He is afraid of me."
+
+"Do you believe that?"
+
+"I know it. He would give anything to be rid of me. But go on."
+
+"With what?"
+
+"Your past."
+
+"Well, I'm something like him physically. We are both so strong that we
+generally burst through rather than take the trouble to go round. I'm
+honestly sorry for him. Not a human being to love or be loved by. He never
+had a dog. I don't recollect my mother; she died when I was three; and
+that death had something to do with the iron in his soul. Our old butler
+used to tell me that Father cursed horribly, I mean blasphemously, when
+they took the mother out of the house. There are some men like that, who
+love terribly, away and beyond the average human ability. After the mother
+died he plunged into the money game. He was always making it, piling it up
+ruthlessly but honestly. Then that craving petered out, and he took a hand
+in the collecting game. What will come next I don't know. As a boy I was
+always afraid of him. He was kind to me, but in the abstract. I was like
+an extra on the grocer's bill. He put me into the hands of a tutor--a
+lovable old dreamer--and paid no more attention to me. He never put his
+arms round me and told me fairy stories."
+
+"Poor little boy! No fairy stories!"
+
+"Nary a one until I began to have playmates."
+
+"Do the ropes hurt?"
+
+"They might if I were alone."
+
+"What do you make of the beads?"
+
+"Only that they have some strange value, or father wouldn't be after them.
+Love beads! Doesn't sound half so plausible as Cunningham's version."
+
+"That handsome man who limped?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"A real adventurer--the sort one reads about!"
+
+"And the queer thing about him, he keeps his word, too, for all his
+business is a shady one. I don't suppose there is a painting or a jewel or
+a book of the priceless sort that he doesn't know about, where it is and
+if it can be got at. Some of his deals are aboveboard, but many of them
+aren't. I'll wager these beads have a story of loot."
+
+"What he steals doesn't hurt the poor."
+
+"So long as the tigers fight among themselves and leave the goats alone,
+it doesn't stir you. Is that it?"
+
+"Possibly."
+
+"And besides, he's a handsome beggar, if there ever was one."
+
+"He has the face of an angel!"
+
+"And the soul of a vandal!"--with a touch of irritability.
+
+"Now you aren't fair. A vandal destroys things; this man only
+transfers----"
+
+"For a handsome monetary consideration----"
+
+"Only transfers a picture from one gallery to another."
+
+"Well, we've seen the last of him for a while, anyhow."
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"Will you answer me a question?"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"Do you know where those beads are?"
+
+"A little while gone I smelt tobacco smoke," she answered, dryly.
+
+"I see. We'll talk of something else then. Have you ever been in love?"
+
+"Have you?"
+
+"Violently--so I believed."
+
+"But you got over it?"
+
+"Absolutely! And you?"
+
+"Oh, I haven't had the time. I've been too busy earning bread and butter.
+What was she like?"
+
+"A beautiful mirage--the lie in the desert, you might say. Has it ever
+occurred to you that the mirage is the one lie Nature utters?"
+
+"I hadn't thought. She deceived you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+A short duration of silence.
+
+"Doesn't hurt to talk about her?"
+
+"Lord, no! Because I wasn't given fairy stories when I was little, I took
+them seriously when I was twenty-three."
+
+"Puppy love."
+
+"It went a little deeper than that."
+
+"But you don't hate women?"
+
+"No. I never hated the woman who deceived me. I was terribly sorry for
+her."
+
+"For having lost so nice a husband?"--with a bit of malice.
+
+He greeted this with laughter.
+
+"It is written," she observed, "that we must play the fool sometime or
+other."
+
+"Have you ever played it?"
+
+"Not yet, but you never can tell."
+
+"Jane, you're a brick!"
+
+"Jane!" she repeated. "Well, I don't suppose there's any harm in your
+calling me that, with partitions in between."
+
+"They used to call me Denny."
+
+"And you want me to call you that?"
+
+"Will you?"
+
+"I'll think it over--Denny!"
+
+They laughed. Both recognized the basic fact in this running patter. Each
+was trying to buck up the other. Jane was honestly worried. She could not
+say what it was that worried her, but there was a strong leaven in her of
+old-wives' prescience. It wasn't due to this high-handed adventure of
+Cleigh, senior; it was something leaning down darkly from the future that
+worried her. That hand mirror!
+
+"Better not talk any more," she advised. "You'll be getting thirsty."
+
+"I'm already that."
+
+"You're a brave man, captain," she said, her tone altering from gayety to
+seriousness. "Don't worry about me. I've always been able to take care of
+myself, though I've never been confronted with this kind of a situation
+before. Frankly, I don't like it. But I suspect that your father will have
+more respect for us if we laugh at him. Has he a sense of humour?"
+
+"My word for it, he has! What could be more humorous than tying me up in
+this fashion and putting me in the cabin that used to be mine? Ten
+thousand for a string of glass beads! I say, Jane!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"When he comes back tell him you might consider twenty thousand, just to
+get an idea what the thing is worth."
+
+"I'll promise that."
+
+"All right. Then I'll try to snooze a bit. Getting stuffy lying on my
+back."
+
+"The brute! If I could only help you!"
+
+"You have--you are--you will!"
+
+He turned on his side, his face toward the door. His arms and legs began
+to sting with the sensation known as sleep. He was glad his father had
+overheard the initial conversation. A wave of terror ran over him at the
+thought of being set ashore while Jane went on. Still he could have sent a
+British water terrier in hot pursuit.
+
+Jane sat down and took inventory. She knew but little about antiques--rugs
+and furniture--but she was full of inherent love of the beautiful. The
+little secretary upon which she had written the order on the consulate was
+an exquisite lowboy of old mahogany of dull finish. On the floor were
+camel saddle-bays, Persian in pattern. On the panel over the lowboy was a
+small painting, a foot broad and a foot and a half long. It was old--she
+could tell that much. It was a portrait, tender and quaint. She would have
+gasped had she known that it was worth a cover of solid gold. It was a
+Holbein, The Younger, for which Cleigh some years gone had paid Cunningham
+sixteen thousand dollars. Where and how Cunningham had acquired it was not
+open history.
+
+An hour passed. By and by she rose and tiptoed to the partition. She held
+her ear against the panel, and as she heard nothing she concluded that
+Denny--why not?--was asleep. Next she gazed out of the port. It was
+growing dark outside, overcast. It would rain again probably. A drab sky,
+a drab shore. She saw a boat filled with those luscious vegetables which
+wrote typhus for any white person who ate them. A barge went by piled high
+with paddy bags--rice in the husk--with Chinamen at the forward and stern
+sweeps. She wondered if these poor yellow people had ever known what it
+was to play?
+
+Suddenly she fell back, shocked beyond measure. From the direction of the
+salon--a pistol shot! This was followed by the tramp of hurrying feet.
+Voices, now sharp, now rumbling--this grew nearer. A struggle of some
+dimensions was going on in the passage. The racket reached her door, but
+did not pause there. She sank into the chair, a-tremble.
+
+Dennison struggled to a sitting posture.
+
+"Jane?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Are you all right?"
+
+"Yes, what has happened?"
+
+"A bit of mutiny, I take it; but it seems to be over."
+
+"But the shot!"
+
+"I heard no cry of pain, only a lot of scuffling and some high words.
+Don't worry."
+
+"I won't. Can't you break a piece of glass and saw your way out?"
+
+"Lord love you, that's movie stuff! If I had a razor, I couldn't manage it
+without hacking off my hands. You are worried!"
+
+"I'm a woman, Denny. I'm not afraid of your father; but if there is
+mutiny, with all these treasures on board--and over here----"
+
+"All right. I'll make a real effort."
+
+She could hear him stumbling about. She heard the crash of the water
+carafe on the floor. Several minutes dragged by.
+
+"Can't be done!" said Dennison. "Can't make the broken glass stay put.
+Can't reach my ankles, either, or I could get my feet free. There's a
+double latch on your door. See to it! Lord!"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Nothing. Just hunting round for some cuss words. Put the chair up against
+the door knob and sit tight for a while."
+
+The hours dragged by in stifling silence.
+
+Meanwhile, Cleigh, having attended to errands, lunched, had gone to the
+American consulate and presented the order. His name and reputation
+cleared away the official red tape. He explained that all the fuss of the
+night before had been without cause. Miss Norman had come aboard the
+yacht, and now decided to go to Hong-Kong with the family. This suggested
+the presence of other women on board. In the end, Jane's worldly goods
+were consigned to Cleigh, who signed the receipt and made off for the
+launch.
+
+It was growing dark. On the way down the river Cleigh made no attempt to
+search for the beads.
+
+The salon lights snapped up as the launch drew alongside. Once below,
+Cleigh dumped Jane's possessions into the nearest chair and turned to
+give Dodge an order--only to find the accustomed corner vacant!
+
+"Dodge!" he shouted. He ran to the passage. "Dodge, where the devil are
+you?"
+
+"Did you call, sir?"
+
+Cleigh spun about. In the doorway to the dining salon stood Cunningham, on
+his amazingly handsome face an expression of anxious solicitude!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+Cleigh was not only a big and powerful man--he was also courageous, but
+the absence of Dodge and the presence of Cunningham offered such sinister
+omen that temporarily he was bereft of his natural wit and initiative.
+
+"Where's Dodge?" he asked, stupidly.
+
+"Dodge is resting quietly," answered Cunningham, gravely. "He'll be on his
+feet in a day or two."
+
+That seemed to wake up Cleigh a bit. He drew his automatic.
+
+"Face to the wall, or I'll send a bullet into you!"
+
+Cunningham shook his head.
+
+"Did you examine the clip this morning? When you carry weapons like that
+for protection never put it in your pocket without a look-see. Dodge
+wouldn't have made your mistake. Shoot! Try it on the floor, or up through
+the lights--or at me if you'd like that better. The clip is empty."
+
+Mechanically Cleigh took aim and bore against the trigger. There was no
+explosion. A depressing sense of unreality rolled over the _Wanderer's_
+owner.
+
+"So you went into town for her luggage? Did you find the beads?"
+
+Cleigh made a negative sign. It was less an answer to Cunningham than an
+acknowledgment that he could not understand why the bullet clip should be
+empty.
+
+"It was an easy risk," explained Cunningham. "You carried the gun, but I
+doubt you ever looked it over. Having loaded it once upon a time, you
+believed that was sufficient, eh? Know what I think? The girl has hidden
+the beads in her hair. Did you search her?"
+
+Again Cleigh shook his head, as much over the situation as over the
+question.
+
+"What, you ran all this risk and hadn't the nerve to search her? Well,
+that's rich! Unless you've read her from my book. She would probably have
+scratched out your eyes. There's an Amazon locked up in that graceful
+body. I'd like to see her head against a bit of clear blue sky--a touch of
+Henner blues and reds. What a whale of a joke! Abduct a young woman, risk
+prison, and then afraid to lay hands on her! You poor old piker!"
+Cunningham laughed.
+
+"Cunningham----"
+
+"All right, I'll be merciful. To make a long story short, it means that
+for the present I am in command of this yacht. I warned you. Will you be
+sensible, or shall I have to lock you up like your two-gun man from
+Texas?"
+
+"Piracy!" cried Cleigh, coming out of his maze.
+
+"Maritime law calls it that, but it isn't really. No pannikins of rum, no
+fifteen men on a dead man's chest. Parlour stuff, you might call it. The
+whole affair--the parlour side of it--depends upon whether you purpose to
+act philosophically under stress or kick up a hullabaloo. In the latter
+event you may reasonably expect some rough stuff. Truth is, I'm only
+borrowing the yacht as far as latitude ten degrees and longitude one
+hundred and ten degrees, off Catwick Island. You carry a boson's whistle
+at the end of your watch chain. Blow it!" was the challenge.
+
+"You bid me blow it?"
+
+"Only to convince you how absolutely helpless you are," said Cunningham,
+amiably. "Yesterday this day's madness did prepare, as our old friend Omar
+used to say. Vedder did great work on that, didn't he? Toot the whistle,
+for shortly we shall weigh anchor."
+
+Like a man in a dream, Cleigh got out his whistle. The first blast was
+feeble and windy. Cunningham grinned.
+
+"Blow it, man, blow it!"
+
+Cleigh set the whistle between his lips and blew a blast that must have
+been heard half a mile away.
+
+"That's something like! Now we'll have results!"
+
+Above, on deck, came the scuffle of hurrying feet, and immediately--as if
+they had been prepared against this moment--three fourths of the crew came
+tumbling down the companionway.
+
+"Seize this man!" shouted Cleigh, thunderously, as he indicated
+Cunningham.
+
+The men, however, fell into line and came to attention. Most of them were
+grinning.
+
+"Do you hear me? Brown, Jessup, McCarthy--seize this man!"
+
+No one stirred. Cleigh then lost his head. With a growl he sprang toward
+Cunningham. Half the crew jumped instantly into the gap between, and they
+were no longer grinning. Cunningham pushed aside the human wall and faced
+the _Wanderer's_ owner.
+
+"Do you begin to understand?"
+
+"No! But whatever your game is, it will prove bad business for you in the
+end. And you men, too. The world has grown mighty small, and you'll find
+it hard to hide--unless you kill me and have done with it!"
+
+"Tut, tut! Wouldn't harm a hair of your head. The world is small, as you
+say, but just at this moment infernally busy mopping up. What, bother
+about a little dinkum dinkus like this, with Russia mad, Germany ugly,
+France grumbling at England, Italy shaking her fist at Greece, and labour
+making a monkey of itself? Nay! I'll shift the puzzle so you can read it.
+When the yacht was released from auxiliary duties she was without a crew.
+The old crew, that of peace times, was gone utterly, with the exception of
+four. You had the yacht keelhauled, gave her another daub of war paint and
+set about to find a crew. And I had one especially picked for you!
+Ordinarily, you've a tolerably keen eye. Didn't it strike you odd to land
+a crew who talked more or less grammatically, who were clean bodily, who
+weren't boozers?"
+
+Cleigh, fully alive now, coldly ran his inspecting glance over the men. He
+had never before given their faces any particular attention. Besides, this
+was the first time he had seen so many of them at once. During boat drill
+they had been divided into four squads. Young faces, lean and hard some of
+them, but reckless rather than bad. All of them at this moment appeared to
+be enjoying some huge joke.
+
+"I can only repeat," said Cleigh, "that you are all playing with
+dynamite."
+
+"Perhaps. Most of these boys fought in the war; they played the game; but
+when they returned nobody had any use for them. I caught them on the
+rebound, when they were a bit desperate. We formed a company--but of that
+more anon. Will you be my guest, or will you be my prisoner?"
+
+The velvet fell away from Cunningham's voice.
+
+"Have I any choice? I'll accept the condition because I must. But I've
+warned you. I suppose I'd better ask at once what the ransom is."
+
+"Ransom? Not a copper cent! You can make Singapore in two days from the
+Catwick."
+
+"And for helping me into Singapore I'm to agree not to hand such men as
+you leave me over to the British authorities?"
+
+"All wrong! The men who will help you into Singapore or take you to Manila
+will be as innocent as newborn babes. Wouldn't believe it, would you, but
+I'm one of those efficiency sharks. Nothing left to chance; all cut and
+dried; pluperfect. Cleigh, I never break my word. I honestly intended
+turning over those beads to you, but Morrissy muddled the play."
+
+"Next door to murder."
+
+"Near enough, but he'll pull out."
+
+"Are you going to take Miss Norman along?"
+
+"What, set her ashore to sic the British Navy on us? I'm sorry. I don't
+want her on board; but that was your play, not mine. You tried to
+double-cross me. But you need have no alarm. I will kill the man who
+touches her. You understand that, boys?"
+
+The crew signified that the order was understood, though one of them--the
+returned Flint--smiled cynically. If Cunningham noted the smile he made no
+verbal comment upon it.
+
+"Weigh anchor, then! Look alive! The sooner we nose down to the delta the
+sooner we'll have the proper sea room."
+
+The crew scurried off, and almost at once came familiar sounds--the rattle
+of the anchor chain on the windlass, the creaking of pulley blocks as the
+launch came aboard, the thud of feet hither and yon as portables were
+stowed or lashed to the deck-house rail. For several minutes Cleigh and
+Cunningham remained speechless and motionless.
+
+"You get all the angles?" asked Cunningham, finally.
+
+"Some of them," admitted Cleigh.
+
+"At any rate, enough to make you accept a bad situation with good grace?"
+
+"You're a foolhardy man, Cunningham. Do you expect me to lie down when
+this play is over? I solemnly swear to you that I'll spend the rest of my
+days hunting you down."
+
+"And I solemnly swear that you shan't catch me. I'm through with the old
+game of playing the genie in the bottle for predatory millionaires.
+Henceforth I'm on my own. I'm romantic--yes, sir--I'm romantic from heel
+to cowlick; and now I'm going to give rein to this stifled longing."
+
+"You will come to a halter round your neck. I have always paid your price
+on the nail, Cunningham."
+
+"You had to. Hang it, passions are the very devil, aren't they? Sooner or
+later one jumps upon your back and rides you like the Old Man of the
+Sea."
+
+Cleigh heard the rumble of steam.
+
+"Objects of art!" went on Cunningham. "It eats into your vitals to hear
+that some rival has picked up a Correggio or an ancient Kirman or a bit of
+Persian plaque. You talk of halters. Lord lumme, how obliquely you look at
+facts! Take that royal Persian there--the second-best animal rug on
+earth--is there no murder behind the woof and warp of it? What? Talk
+sense, Cleigh, talk sense! You cable me: Get such and such. I get it. What
+the devil do you care how it was got, so long as it eventually becomes
+yours? It's a case of the devil biting his own tail--pot calling kettle
+black."
+
+"How much do you want?"
+
+"No, Cleigh, it's the romantic idea."
+
+"I will give you fifty thousand for the rug."
+
+"I'm sorry. No use now of telling you the plot; you wouldn't believe me,
+as the song goes. Dinner at seven. Will you dine in the salon with me, or
+will you dine in the solemn grandeur of your own cabin, in company with Da
+Vinci, Teniers, and that Carlo Dolci the Italian Government has been
+hunting high and low for?"
+
+"I will risk the salon."
+
+"To keep an eye on me as long as possible. That's fair enough. You heard
+what I said to those boys. Well, every mother's son of 'em will toe the
+mark. There will be no change at all in the routine. Simply we lay a new
+course that will carry us outside and round Formosa, down to the South Sea
+and across to the Catwick. I'll give you one clear idea. A million and
+immunity would not stir me, Cleigh."
+
+"What's the game--if it's beyond ransom?"
+
+Cunningham laughed boyishly.
+
+"It's big, and you'll laugh, too, when I tell you."
+
+"On which side of the mouth?"
+
+"That's up to you."
+
+"Is it the rug?"
+
+"Oh, that, of course! I warned you that I'd come for the rug. It took two
+years out of my young life to get that for you, and it has always haunted
+me. I just told you about passions, didn't I? Once on your back, they ride
+you like the devil--down-hill."
+
+"A crook."
+
+"There you go again--pot calling kettle black! If you want to moralize,
+where's the line between the thief and the receiver? Fie on you! Dare you
+hang that Da Vinci, that Dolci, that Holbein in your gallery home? No!
+Stolen goods. What a passion! You sail across the seas alone, alone
+because you can't satisfy your passion and have knowing companions on
+board. When the yacht goes out of commission you store the loot, and
+tremble when you hear a fire alarm. All right. Dinner at seven. I'll go
+and liberate your son and the lady."
+
+"Cunningham, I will kill you out of hand the very first chance."
+
+"Old dear, I'll add a fact for your comfort. There will be guns on board,
+but half an hour gone all the ammunition was dumped into the Whangpoo. So
+you won't have anything but your boson's whistle. You're a bigger man than
+I am physically, and I've a slue-foot, a withered leg; but I've all the
+barroom tricks you ever heard of. So don't make any mistakes in that
+direction. You are free to come and go as you please; but the moment you
+start any rough house, into your cabin you go, and you'll stay there
+until we raise the Catwick. You haven't a leg to stand on."
+
+Cunningham lurched out of the salon and into the passage. He opened the
+door to Cabin Two and turned on the light. Dennison blinked stupidly.
+Cunningham liberated him and stood back.
+
+"Dinner at seven."
+
+"What the devil are you doing on board?" asked Dennison, thickly.
+
+"Well, here's gratitude for you! But in order that there will be no
+misunderstanding, I've turned to piracy for a change. Great sport! I've
+chartered the yacht for a short cruise." His banter turned into cold,
+precise tones. Cunningham went on: "No nonsense, captain! I put this crew
+on board away back in New York. Those beads, though having a merit of
+their own, were the lure to bring your father to these parts. Your
+presence and Miss Norman's are accidents for which I am genuinely sorry.
+But frankly, I dare not turn you loose. That's the milk in the cocoanut. I
+grant you the same privileges as I grant your father, which he has
+philosophically agreed to accept. Your word of honour to take it sensibly,
+and the freedom of the yacht is yours. Otherwise, I'll lock you up in a
+place not half so comfortable as this."
+
+"Piracy!"
+
+"Yes, sir. These are strangely troubled days. We've slumped morally.
+Humanity has been on the big kill, with the result that the tablets of
+Moses have been busted up something fierce. And here we are again, all
+kotowing to the Golden Calf! All I need is your word--the word of a
+Cleigh."
+
+"I give it." Dennison gave his word so that he might be free to protect
+the girl in the adjoining cabin. "But conditionally."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"That the young lady shall at all times be treated with the utmost
+respect. You will have to kill me otherwise."
+
+"These Cleighs! All right. That happens to be my own order to the crew.
+Any man who breaks it will pay heavily."
+
+"What's the game?" asked Dennison, rubbing his wrists tenderly while he
+balanced unsteadily upon his aching legs.
+
+"Later! I'll let Miss Norman out. That's so--her things are in the salon.
+I'll get them, but I'll unlock her door first."
+
+"What in heaven's name has happened?" asked Jane as she and Dennison stood
+alone in the passage.
+
+"The Lord knows!" gloomily. "But that scoundrel Cunningham has planted a
+crew of his own on board, and we are all prisoners."
+
+"Cunningham?"
+
+"The chap with the limp."
+
+"With the handsome face? But this is piracy!"
+
+"About the size of it."
+
+"Oh, I knew something was going to happen! But a pirate! Surely it must be
+a joke?"
+
+So it was--probably the most colossal joke that ever flowered in the mind
+of a man. The devil must have shouted and the gods must have held their
+sides, for it took either a devil or a god to understand the joke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+That first dinner would always remain vivid and clear-cut in Jane Norman's
+mind. It was fantastic. To begin with, there was that picturesque stone
+image at the head of the table--Cleigh--who appeared utterly oblivious of
+his surroundings, who ate with apparent relish, and who ignored both men,
+his son and his captor. Once or twice Jane caught his glance--a blue eye,
+sharp-pupiled, agate-hard. But what was it she saw--a twinkle or a
+sparkle? The breadth of his shoulders! He must be very powerful, like the
+son. Why, the two of them could have pulverized this pretty fellow
+opposite!
+
+Father and son! For seven years they had not met. Their indifference
+seemed so inhuman! Still, she fancied that the son dared not make any
+approach, however much he may have longed to. A woman! They had quarrelled
+over a woman! Something reached down from the invisible and pinched her
+heart.
+
+All this while Cunningham had been talking--banter. The blade would flash
+toward the father or whirl upon the son, or it would come toward her by
+the handle. She could not get away from the initial idea--that his eyes
+were like fire opals.
+
+"Miss Norman, you have very beautiful hair."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"It looks like Judith's. You remember, Cleigh, the one that hangs in the
+Pitti Galleria in Florence--Allori's?"
+
+Cleigh reached for a piece of bread, which he broke and buttered.
+
+Cunningham turned to Jane again.
+
+"Will you do me the favour of taking out the hairpins and loosing it?"
+
+"No!" said Dennison.
+
+"Why not?" said Jane, smiling bravely enough, though there ran over her
+spine a chill.
+
+It wasn't Cunningham's request--it was Dennison's refusal. That syllable,
+though spoken moderately, was the essence of battle, murder, and sudden
+death. If they should clash it would mean that Denny--how easy it was to
+call him that!--Denny would be locked up and she would be all alone. For
+the father seemed as aloof and remote as the pole.
+
+"You shall not do it!" declared Dennison. "Cunningham, if you force her I
+will break every bone in your body here and now!"
+
+Cleigh selected an olive and began munching it.
+
+"Nonsense!" cried Jane. "It's all awry anyhow." And she began to extract
+the hairpins. Presently she shook her head, and the ruddy mass of hair
+fell and rippled across and down her shoulders.
+
+"Well?" she said, looking whimsically into Cunningham's eyes. "It wasn't
+there, was it?"
+
+This tickled Cunningham.
+
+"You're a woman in a million! You read my thought perfectly. I like ready
+wit in a woman. I had to find out. You see, I had promised those beads to
+Cleigh, and when I humanly can I keep my promises. Sit down, captain!" For
+Dennison had risen to his feet. "Sit down! Don't start anything you can't
+finish." To Jane there was in the tone a quality which made her compare it
+with the elder Cleigh's eyes--agate-hard. "You are younger and stronger,
+and no doubt you could break me. But the moment my hand is withdrawn from
+this business--the moment I am off the board--I could not vouch for the
+crew. They are more or less decent chaps, or they were before this damned
+war stood humanity on its head. We wear the same clothes, use the same
+phrases; but we've been thrust back a thousand years. And Miss Norman is a
+woman. You understand?"
+
+Dennison sat down.
+
+"You'd better kill me somewhere along this voyage."
+
+"I may have to. Who knows? There's no real demarcation between comedy and
+tragedy; it's the angle of vision. It's rough medicine, this; but your
+father has agreed to take it sensibly, because he knows me tolerably well.
+Still, it will not do him any good to plan bribery. Buy the crew, Cleigh,
+if you believe you can. You'll waste your time. I do not pretend to hold
+them by loyalty. I hold them by fear. Act sensibly, all of you, and this
+will be a happy family. For after all, it's a joke, a whale of a joke. And
+some day you'll smile over it--even you, Cleigh."
+
+Cleigh pressed the steward's button.
+
+"The jam and the cheese, Togo," he said to the Jap.
+
+"Yess, sair!"
+
+A hysterical laugh welled into Jane's throat, but she did not permit it to
+escape her lips. She began to build up her hair clumsily, because her
+hands trembled.
+
+Adventure! She thrilled! She had read somewhere that after seven thousand
+years of tortuous windings human beings had formed about themselves a thin
+shell which they called civilization. And always someone was breaking
+through and retracing those seven thousand years. Here was an example in
+Cunningham. Only a single step was necessary. It took seven thousand years
+to build your shell, and only a minute to destroy it. There was something
+fascinating in the thought. A reckless spirit pervaded Jane, a longing to
+burst through this shell of hers and ride the thunderbolt. Monotony--that
+had been her portion, and only her dreams had kept her from withering.
+From the house to the hospital and back home again, days, weeks, years.
+She had begun to hate white; her soul thirsted for colour, movement,
+thrill. The call that had been walled in, suppressed, broke through.
+Piracy on high seas, and Jane Norman in the cast!
+
+She was not in the least afraid of the whimsical rogue opposite. He was
+more like an uninvited dinner guest. Perhaps this lack of fear had its
+origin in the oily smoothness by which the yacht had changed hands. Beyond
+the subjugation of Dodge, there had not been a ripple of commotion. It was
+too early to touch the undercurrents. All this lulled and deceived her.
+Piracy? Where were the cutlasses, the fierce moustaches, the red
+bandannas, the rattle of dice, and the drunken songs?--the piracy of
+tradition? If she had any fear at all it was for the man at her
+left--Denny--who might run amuck on her account and spoil everything. All
+her life she would hear the father's voice--"The jam and the cheese,
+Togo." What men, all three of them!
+
+Cunningham laid his napkin on the table and stood up.
+
+"Absolute personal liberty, if you will accept the situation sensibly."
+
+Dennison glowered at him, but Jane reached out and touched the soldier's
+sleeve.
+
+"Please!"
+
+"For your sake, then. But it's tough medicine for me to swallow."
+
+"To be sure it is," agreed the rogue. "Look upon me as a supercargo for
+the next ten days. You'll see me only at lunch and dinner. I've a lot of
+work to do in the chart house. By the way, the wireless man is mine,
+Cleigh, so don't waste any time on him. Hope you're a good sailor, Miss
+Norman, for we are heading into rough weather, and we haven't much beam."
+
+"I love the sea!"
+
+"Hang it, you and I shan't have any trouble! Good-night."
+
+Cunningham limped to the door, where he turned and eyed the elder Cleigh,
+who was stirring his coffee thoughtfully. Suddenly the rogue burst into a
+gale of laughter, and they could hear recurrent bursts as he wended his
+way to the companion.
+
+When this sound died away Cleigh turned his glance levelly upon Jane. The
+stone-like mask dissolved into something that was pathetically human.
+
+"Miss Norman," he said, "I don't know what we are heading into, but if we
+ever get clear I will make any reparation you may demand."
+
+"Any kind of a reparation?"--an eager note in her voice.
+
+Dennison stared at her, puzzled, but almost instantly he was conscious of
+the warmth of shame in his cheeks. This girl wasn't that sort--to ask for
+money as a balm for the indignity offered her. What was she after?
+
+"Any kind of reparation," repeated Cleigh.
+
+"I'll remember that--if we get through. And somehow I believe we shall."
+
+"You trust that scoundrel?" asked Cleigh, astonishedly.
+
+"Inexplicably--yes."
+
+"Because he happens to be handsome?"--with frank irony.
+
+"No." But she looked at the son as she spoke. "He said he never broke his
+word. No man can be a very great villain who can say that. Did he ever
+break his word to you?"
+
+"Except in this instance."
+
+"The beads?"
+
+"I am quite confident he knows where they are."
+
+"Are they so precious? What makes them precious?"
+
+"I have told you--they are love beads."
+
+"That's rank nonsense! I'm no child!"
+
+"Isn't love rank nonsense?" Cleigh countered. He was something of a
+banterer himself.
+
+"Have you never loved anybody?" she shot back at him.
+
+A shadow passed over the man's face, clearing the ironic expression.
+
+"Perhaps I loved not wisely but too well."
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean----"
+
+"You are young; all about you is sunshine; I myself have gone down among
+the shadows. Cunningham may keep his word; but there is always the
+possibility of his not being able to keep it. He has become an outlaw; he
+is in maritime law a pirate. The crew are aware of it; prison stares them
+in the face, and that may make them reckless. If you weren't on board I
+shouldn't care. But you are young, vital, attractive, of the type that
+appeals to strong men. In the dry stores there are many cases of liquor
+and wine. The men may break into the stuff before we reach the Catwick.
+That will take ten or twelve days if Cunningham lays a course outside
+Formosa. What's his game? I don't know. Probably he will maroon us on the
+Catwick, an island I know nothing about, except that it is nearer to
+Saigon than to Singapore. So then in the daytime stay where I am or where
+Captain Dennison is. Good-night."
+
+Dennison balanced his spoon on the rim of the coffee cup--not a
+particularly easy job.
+
+"Whatever shall I do with the jade?" Jane asked, irrelevantly.
+
+"What?"
+
+"The jade necklace. That poor Chinaman!"
+
+"Ling Foo? I wish I had broken his infernal yellow neck! But for him
+neither of us would be here. But he is right," Dennison added, with a jerk
+of his head toward the door. "You must always be with one or the other of
+us--preferably me." He smiled.
+
+"Will you promise me one thing?"
+
+"Denny."
+
+"Will you promise me one thing, Denny?"
+
+"And that is not to attempt to mix it with the scoundrel?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I promise--so long as he keeps his. But if he touches you--well, God help
+him!"
+
+"And me! Oh, I don't mean him. It is you that I am afraid of. You're so
+terribly strong--and--and so heady. I can never forget how you went into
+that mob of quarrelling troopers. But you were an officer there; your
+uniform doesn't count here. If only you and your father stood together!"
+
+"We do so far as you are concerned. Never doubt that. Otherwise, though,
+it's hopeless. What are you going to demand of him--supposing we come
+through safely?"
+
+"That's my secret. Let's go on deck."
+
+"It's raining hard, and there'll be a good deal of pitching shortly.
+Better turn in. You've been through enough to send the average woman into
+hysterics."
+
+"It won't be possible to sleep."
+
+"I grant that, but I'd rather you would go at once to your cabin."
+
+"I wonder if you will understand. I'm not really afraid. I know I ought to
+be, but I'm not. All my life has been a series of humdrum--and here is
+adventure, stupendous adventure!" She rose abruptly, holding out her arms
+dramatically toward space. "All my life I have lived in a shell, and
+chance has cracked it. If only you knew how wonderfully free I feel at
+this moment! I want to go on deck, to feel the wind and the rain in my
+face!"
+
+"Go to bed," he said, prosaically.
+
+Though never had she appeared so poignantly desirable. He wanted to seize
+her in his arms, smother her with kisses, bury his face in her hair. And
+swiftly upon this desire came the thought that if she appealed to him so
+strongly, might she not appeal quite as strongly to the rogue? He laid the
+spoon on the rim of the cup again and teetered it.
+
+"Go to bed," he repeated.
+
+"An order?"
+
+"An order. I'll go along with you to the cabin. Come!" He got up.
+
+"Can you tell me you're not excited?"
+
+"I am honestly terrified. I'd give ten years of my life if you were safely
+out of this. For seven long years I have been knocking about this world,
+and among other things I have learned that plans like Cunningham's never
+get through per order. I don't know what the game is, but it's bound to
+fail. So I'm going to ask you, in God's name, not to let any romantical
+ideas get into your head. This is bad business for all of us."
+
+There was something in his voice, aside from the genuine seriousness, that
+subdued her.
+
+"I'll go to bed. Shall we have breakfast together?"
+
+"Better that way."
+
+To reach the port passage they had to come out into the main salon. Cleigh
+was in his corner reading.
+
+"Good-night," she called. All her bitterness toward him was gone. "And
+don't worry about me."
+
+"Good-night," replied Cleigh over the top of the book. "Be sure of your
+door. If you hear any untoward sounds in the night call to the captain
+whose cabin adjoins yours."
+
+When she and Dennison arrived at the door of her cabin she turned
+impulsively and gave him both her hands. He held them lightly, because his
+emotions were at full tide, and he did not care to have her sense it in
+any pressure. Her confidence in him now was absolute, and he must guard
+himself constantly. Poor fool! Why hadn't he told her that last night on
+the British transport? What had held him back?
+
+The uncertain future--he had let that rise up between. And now he could
+not tell her. If she did not care, if her regard did not go beyond
+comradeship, the knowledge would only distress her.
+
+The yacht was beginning to roll now, for they were making the East China
+Sea. The yacht rolled suddenly to starboard, and Jane fell against him. He
+caught her, instantly turned her right about and gently but firmly forced
+her into the cabin.
+
+"Good-night. Remember! Rap on the partition if you hear anything you don't
+like."
+
+"I promise."
+
+After she had locked and latched the door she set about the business of
+emptying her kit bags. She hung the evening gown she had worn all day in
+the locker, laid her toilet articles on the dresser, and set the brass
+hand warmer on the lowboy. Then she let down her hair and began to brush
+it. She swung a thick strand of it over her shoulder and ran her hand down
+under it. The woman in "Phra the Phoenician," Allori's Judith--and she had
+always hated the colour of it! She once more applied the brush, balancing
+herself nicely to meet the ever-increasing roll.
+
+Nevertheless, she did feel free, freer than she had felt in all her life
+before. A stupendous adventure! After the braids were completed she flung
+them down her back, turned off the light, and peered out of the
+rain-blurred port. She could see nothing except an occasional flash of
+angry foam as it raced past. She slipped into bed, but her eyes remained
+open for a long time.
+
+Dennison wondered if there would be a slicker in his old locker. He opened
+the door. He found an oilskin and a yellow sou'wester on the hooks. He
+took them down and put them on and stole out carefully, a hand extended
+each side to minimize the roll. He navigated the passage and came out into
+the salon.
+
+Cleigh was still immersed in his book. He looked up quickly, but
+recognizing the intruder, dropped his gaze instantly. Dennison crossed the
+salon to the companionway and staggered up the steps. Had his father ever
+really been afraid of anything? He could not remember ever having seen the
+old boy in the grip of fear. What a devil of a world it was!
+
+Dennison was an able seaman. He had been brought up on the sea--seven
+years on the first _Wanderer_ and five on the second. He had, in company
+with his father, ridden the seven seas. But he had no trade; he hadn't the
+money instinct; he would have to stumble upon fortune; he knew no way of
+making it. And this knowledge stirred his rancor anew--the father hadn't
+played fair with the son.
+
+He gripped the deck-house rail to steady himself, for the wind and rain
+caught him head-on.
+
+Then he worked his way slowly along to the bridge. Twice a comber broke on
+the quarter and dropped a ton of water, which sloshed about the deck,
+drenching his feet. He climbed the ladder, rather amused at the recurrence
+of an old thought--that climbing ship ladders in dirty weather was a good
+deal like climbing in nightmares: one weighed thousands of pounds and had
+feet of lead.
+
+Presently he peered into the chart room, which was dark except for the
+small hooded bulbs over the navigating instruments. He could see the chin
+and jaws of the wheelman and the beard of old Captain Newton. From time to
+time a wheel spoke came into the light.
+
+On the chart table lay a pocket lamp, facing sternward, the light pouring
+upon what looked to be a map; and over it were bent three faces, one of
+which was Cunningham's. A forefinger was tracing this map.
+
+Dennison opened the door and stepped inside.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+"How are you making out, Newton?" he asked, calmly.
+
+"Denny? Why, God bless me, boy, I'm glad to see you! How's your dad?"
+
+"Reading."
+
+"That would be like him. I don't suppose if hell opened under his feet
+he'd do anything except look interested. And it 'pears to me's though hell
+had opened up right now!"
+
+A chuckle came from the chart table.
+
+"What's your idea of hell, Newton?" asked Cunningham.
+
+"Anything you might have a hand in," was the return bolt.
+
+"Why, you used to like me!"
+
+"Yes, yes! But I didn't know you then. The barometer's dropping. If it was
+August I'd say we were nosing into a typhoon. I always hated this yellow
+muck they call a sea over here. Did you pick up that light?"
+
+"Yes, sir," answered the wheelman. "I take it she's making
+south--Hong-Kong way. There's plenty of sea room. She'll be well down
+before we cross her wake."
+
+Silence except for the rumble of the weather canvas standing up against
+the furious blasts of the wind. Dennison stepped over to the chart table.
+
+"Cunningham, I would like to have a word with you."
+
+"Go ahead. You can have as many as you like."
+
+"At dinner you spoke of your word."
+
+"So I did. What about it?"
+
+"Do you keep it?"
+
+"Whenever I humanly can. Well?"
+
+"What's this Catwick Island?"
+
+"Hanged if I know!"
+
+"Are you going to maroon us there?"
+
+"No. At that point the yacht will be turned back to your father, and he
+can cruise until the crack o' doom without further interference from yours
+truly."
+
+"That's your word?"
+
+"It is--and I will keep it. Anything else?"
+
+"Yes. I will play the game as it lies, provided that Miss Norman is in
+nowise interfered with or annoyed."
+
+"How is she taking it?"
+
+"My reply first."
+
+"Neither I nor the crew will bother her. She shall come and go free as the
+gull in the air. If at any time the men do not observe the utmost
+politeness toward her you will do me a favour to report to me. That's my
+word, and I promise to keep it, even if I have to kill a man or two. I
+wish to come through clean in the hands so far as your father, Miss
+Norman, and yourself are concerned. I'm risking my neck and my liberty,
+for this is piracy on the high seas. But every man is entitled to one good
+joke during his lifetime, and when we raise the Catwick I'll explain this
+joke in full. If you don't chuckle, then you haven't so much as a grain of
+humour in your make-up."
+
+"Well, there's nothing for me to do but take your word as you give it."
+
+"That's the way to talk. Now, Flint, this bay or lagoon----"
+
+The voice dropped into a low, indistinguishable murmur. Dennison realized
+that the moment had come to depart; the edge of the encounter was in
+Cunningham's favour and to remain would only serve to sharpen this edge.
+So he went outside, slamming the door behind him.
+
+The word of a rogue! There was now nothing to do but turn in. He believed
+he had a glimmer. Somewhere off the Catwick Cunningham and his crew were
+to be picked up. He would not be going to the Catwick himself, not
+knowing whether it was jungle or bald rock. But if a ship was to pick him
+up, why hadn't she made Shanghai and picked him up there? Why commit
+piracy--unless he was a colossal liar, which Dennison was ready enough to
+believe. The word of a rogue!
+
+Some private war? Was Cunningham paying off an old grudge? But was any
+grudge worth this risk? The old boy wasn't to be scared; Cunningham ought
+to have known that. If Cleigh came through with a whole skin he'd hunt the
+beggar down if it carried him to the North Pole. Cunningham ought to have
+known that, too. A planted crew, piracy--and he, Dennison Cleigh, was
+eventually to chuckle over it! He had his doubts. And where did the glass
+beads come in? Or had Cunningham spoken the truth--a lure? A big game
+somewhere in the offing. And the rogue was right! The world, dizzily
+stewing in a caldron of monumental mistakes, would give scant attention to
+an off-side play such as this promised to be. Not a handhold anywhere to
+the puzzle. The old boy might have the key, but Dennison Cleigh could not
+go to him for the solution.
+
+His own father! Just as he had become used to the idea that the separation
+was final, absolute, to be thrown together in this fantastic manner! The
+father's arm under his neck and the cup at his lips had shaken him
+profoundly. But Cleigh would not have denied a dog drink had the dog
+exhibited signs of thirst. So nothing could be drawn from that.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Morning. Jane opened her eyes, only to shut them quickly. The white
+brilliancy of the cabin hurt. Across the ceiling ran a constant flicker of
+silver--reflected sunshine on the water. Southward--they were heading
+southward. She jumped out of bed and stepped over to the port. Flashing
+yellow water, a blue sky, and far off the oddly ribbed sails of a Chinese
+junk labouring heavily in the big sea that was still running. Glorious!
+
+She dressed hurriedly and warmly, bundling her hair under a velours hat
+and ramming a pin through both.
+
+"Denny?" she called.
+
+There was no answer. He was on deck, probably.
+
+An odd scene awaited her in the main salon. Cleigh, senior, stood before
+the phonograph listening to Caruso. The roll of the yacht in nowise
+disturbed the mechanism of the instrument. There was no sudden sluing of
+the needle, due to an amateurish device which Cleigh himself had
+constructed. The son, stooping, was searching the titles of a row of new
+novels. The width of the salon stretched between the two.
+
+"Good morning, everybody!"
+
+There was a joyousness in her voice she made not the least attempt to
+conceal. She was joyous, alive, and she did not care who knew it.
+
+Dennison acknowledged her greeting with a smile, a smile which was a
+mixture of wonder and admiration. How in the world was she to be made to
+understand that they were riding a deep-sea volcano?
+
+"Nothing disturbed you through the night?" asked Cleigh, lifting the pin
+from the record.
+
+"Nothing. I lay awake for an hour or two, but after that I slept like a
+log. Have I kept you waiting?"
+
+"No. Breakfast isn't quite ready," answered Cleigh.
+
+"What makes the sea so yellow?"
+
+"All the big Chinese rivers are mud-banked and mud-bottomed. They pour
+millions of tons of yellow mud into these waters. By this afternoon,
+however, I imagine we'll be nosing into the blue. Ah!"
+
+"Breakfast iss served," announced Togo the Jap.
+
+The trio entered the dining salon in single file, and once more Jane found
+herself seated between the two men. One moment she was carrying on a
+conversation with the father, the next moment with the son. The two
+ignored each other perfectly. Under ordinary circumstances it would have
+been strange enough; but in this hour, when no one knew where or how this
+voyage would end! A real tragedy or some absurd trifle? Probably a trifle;
+trifles dug more pits than tragedies. Perhaps tragedy was mis-named. What
+humans called tragedy was epic, and trifles were real tragedies. And then
+there were certain natures to whom the trifle was epical; to whom the
+inconsequent was invariably magnified nine diameters; and having made a
+mistake, would die rather than admit it.
+
+To bring these two together, to lure them from behind their ramparts of
+stubbornness, to see them eventually shake hands and grin as men will who
+recognize that they have been playing the fool! She became fired with the
+idea. Only she must not move prematurely; there must arrive some
+psychological moment.
+
+During the meal, toward the end of it, one of the crew entered. He was
+young--in the early twenties. The manner in which he saluted convinced
+Dennison that the fellow had recently been in the United States Navy.
+
+"Mr. Cunningham's compliments, sir. Canvas has been rigged on the port
+promenade and chairs and rugs set out."
+
+Another salute and he was off.
+
+"Well, that's decent enough," was Dennison's comment. "That chap has been
+in the Navy. It's all miles over my head, I'll confess. Cunningham spoke
+of a joke when I accosted him in the chart house last night."
+
+"You went up there?" cried Jane.
+
+"Yes. And among other things he said that every man is entitled to at
+least one good joke. What the devil can he mean by that?"
+
+Had he been looking at his father Dennison would have caught a fleeting,
+grim, shadowy smile on the strong mouth.
+
+"You will find a dozen new novels on the shelves, Miss Norman," said
+Cleigh as he rose. "I'll be on deck. I generally walk two or three miles
+in the morning. Let us hang together this day to test the scalawag's
+promise."
+
+"Mr. Cleigh, when you spoke of reparation last night, you weren't thinking
+in monetary terms, were you?"
+
+Cleigh's brows lowered a trifle, but it was the effect of puzzlement.
+
+"Because," she proceeded, gravely, "all the money you possess would not
+compensate me for the position you have placed me in."
+
+"Well, perhaps I did have money in mind. However, I hold to my word.
+Anything you may ask."
+
+"Some day I will ask you for something."
+
+"And if humanly possible I promise to give it," and with this Cleigh took
+leave.
+
+Jane turned to Dennison.
+
+"It is so strange and incomprehensible! You two sitting here and ignoring
+each other! Surely you don't hate your father?"
+
+"I have the greatest respect and admiration for him. To you no doubt it
+seems fantastic; but we understand each other thoroughly, my father and I.
+I'd take his hand instantly, God knows, if he offered it! But if I offered
+mine it would be glass against diamond--I'd only get badly scratched.
+Suppose we go on deck? The air and the sunshine----"
+
+"But this catastrophe has brought you together after all these years.
+Isn't there something providential in that?"
+
+"Who can say?"
+
+On deck they fell in behind Cleigh, and followed him round for fully an
+hour; then Jane signified that she was tired, and Dennison put her in the
+centre chair and wrapped the rug about her. He selected the chair at her
+right.
+
+Jane shut her eyes, and Dennison opened a novel. It was good reading, and
+he became partially absorbed. The sudden creak of a chair brought his
+glance round. His father had seated himself in the vacant chair.
+
+The phase that dug in and hurt was that his father made no endeavour to
+avoid him--simply ignored his existence. Seven years and not a crack in
+the granite! He laid the book on his knees and stared at the rocking
+horizon.
+
+One of the crew passed. Cleigh hailed him.
+
+"Send Mr. Cleve to me."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+The air and the tone of the man were perfectly respectful.
+
+When Cleve, the first officer, appeared his manner was solicitous.
+
+"Are you comfortable, sir?"
+
+"Would ten thousand dollars interest you?" said Cleigh, directly.
+
+"If you mean to come over to your side, no. My life wouldn't be worth a
+snap of the thumb. You know something about Dick Cunningham. I know him
+well. The truth is, Mr. Cleigh, we're off on a big gamble, and if we win
+out ten thousand wouldn't interest me. Life on board will be exactly as it
+was before you put into Shanghai. More I am not at liberty to tell you."
+
+"How far is the Catwick?"
+
+"Somewhere round two thousand--eight or nine days, perhaps ten. We're not
+piling on--short of coal. It's mighty difficult to get it for a private
+yacht. You may not find a bucketful in Singapore. In America you can
+always commandeer it, having ships and coal mines of your own. The drop
+down to Singapore from the Catwick is about forty hours. You have coal in
+Manila. You can cable for it."
+
+"You are honestly leaving us at that island?"
+
+"Yes, sir. You can, if you wish, take the run up to Saigon; but your
+chance for coal there is nil."
+
+"Cleve," said Cleigh, solemnly, "you appreciate the risks you are
+running?"
+
+"Mr. Cleigh, there are no risks. It's a dead certainty. Cunningham is one
+of your efficiency experts. Everything has been thought of."
+
+"Except fate," supplemented Cleigh.
+
+"Fate? Why, she's our chief engineer!"
+
+Cleve turned away, chuckling; a dozen feet off this chuckle became
+boisterous laughter.
+
+"What can they be after? Sunken treasure?" cried Jane, excitedly.
+
+"Hangman's hemp--if I live long enough," was the grim declaration, and
+Cleigh drew the rug over his knees.
+
+"But it can't be anything dreadful if they can laugh over it!"
+
+"Did you ever hear Mephisto laugh in Faust? Cunningham is a queer duck. I
+don't suppose there's a corner on the globe he hasn't had a peek at. He
+has a vast knowledge of the arts. His real name nobody seems to know. He
+can make himself very likable to men and attractive to women. The sort of
+women he seeks do not mind his physical deformity. His face and his
+intellect draw them, and he is as cruel as a wolf. It never occurred to me
+until last night that men like me create his kind. But I don't understand
+him in this instance. A play like this, with all the future risks! After I
+get the wires moving he won't be able to stir a hundred miles in any
+direction."
+
+"But so long as he doesn't intend to harm us--and I'm convinced he
+doesn't--perhaps we'd better play the game as he asks us to."
+
+"Miss Norman," said Cleigh in a tired voice, "will you do me the favour to
+ask Captain Dennison why he has never touched the twenty thousand I
+deposited to his account?"
+
+Astonished, Jane turned to Dennison to repeat the question, but was
+forestalled.
+
+"Tell Mr. Cleigh that to touch a dollar of that money would be a tacit
+admission that Mr. Cleigh had the right to strike Captain Dennison across
+the mouth."
+
+Dennison swung out of the chair and strode off toward the bridge, his
+shoulders flat and his neck stiff.
+
+"You struck him?" demanded Jane, impulsively.
+
+But Cleigh did not answer. His eyes were closed, his head rested against
+the back of the chair so Jane did not press the question. It was enough
+that she had seen behind a corner of this peculiar veil. And, oddly, she
+felt quite as much pity for the father as for the son. A wall of pride,
+Alpine high, and neither would force a passage!
+
+They did not see the arch rogue during the day, but he came in to dinner.
+He was gay--in a story-telling mood. There was little or no banter, for he
+spoke only to Jane, and gave her flashes of some of his amazing activities
+in search of art treasures. He had once been chased up and down Japan by
+the Mikado's agents for having in his possession some royal-silk tapestry
+which it is forbidden to take out of the country. Another time he had gone
+into Tibet for a lama's ghost mask studded with raw emeralds and
+turquoise, and had suffered untold miseries in getting down into India.
+Again he had entered a Rajput haremlik as a woman, and eventually escaped
+with the fabulous rug which hung in the salon. Adventure, adventure, and
+death always at his elbow! There was nothing of the braggart in the man;
+he recounted his tales after the manner of a boy relating some college
+escapades, deprecatingly.
+
+Often Jane stole a glance at one or the other of the Cleighs. She was
+constantly swung between--but never touched--the desire to laugh and the
+desire to weep over this tragedy, which seemed so futile.
+
+"Why don't you write a book about these adventures?" she asked.
+
+"A book? No time," said Cunningham. "Besides, the moment one of these
+trips is over it ends; I can recount it only sketchily."
+
+"But even sketchily it would be tremendously interesting. It is as if you
+were playing a game with death for the mere sport of it."
+
+"Maybe that hits it, though I've never stopped to analyze. I never think
+of death; it is a waste of gray matter. I should be no nearer death in
+Tibet than I should be asleep in a cradle. Why bother about the absolute,
+the inevitable? Humanity wears itself out building bridges for imaginary
+torrents. I am an exception; that is why I shall be young and handsome up
+to the moment the grim stalker puts his claw on my shoulder."
+
+He smiled whimsically.
+
+"But you, have you never caught some of the passion for possessing rare
+paintings, rugs, manuscripts?"
+
+"You miss the point. What does the sense of possession amount to beside
+the sense of seeking and finding? Cleigh here thinks he is having a thrill
+when he signs a check. It is to laugh!"
+
+"Have you ever killed a man?" It was one of those questions that leap
+forth irresistibly. Jane was a bit frightened at her temerity.
+
+Cunningham drank his coffee deliberately.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+Jane shrank back a little.
+
+"But never willfully," Cunningham added--"always in self-defence, and
+never a white man."
+
+There was a peculiar phase about the man's singular beauty. Animated, it
+was youthful; in grim repose, it was sad and old.
+
+"Death!" said Jane in a kind of awed whisper. "I have watched many die,
+and I cannot get over the terror of it. Here is a man with all the
+faculties, physical and mental; a human being, loving, hating, working,
+sleeping; and in an instant he is nothing!"
+
+"A Chinaman once said that the thought of death is as futile as water in
+the hand. By the way, Cleigh--and you too, captain--give the wireless a
+wide berth. There's death there."
+
+Jane saw the fire opals leap into the dark eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+The third day out they were well below Formosa, which had been turned on a
+wide arc. The sea was blue now, quiescent, waveless; there was only the
+eternal roll. Still Jane could not help comparing the sea with the
+situation--the devil was slumbering. What if he waked?
+
+Time after time she tried to force her thoughts into the reality of this
+remarkable cruise, but it was impossible. Romance was always smothering
+her, edging her off, when she approached the sinister. Perhaps if she had
+heard ribald songs, seen evidence of drunkenness; if the crew had loitered
+about and been lacking in respect, she would have been able to grasp the
+actuality; but so far the idea persisted that this could not be anything
+more than a pleasure cruise. Piracy? Where was it?
+
+So she measured her actions accordingly, read, played the phonograph, went
+here and there over the yacht, often taking her stand in the bow and
+peering down the cutwater to watch the antics of some humorous porpoise or
+to follow the smother of spray where the flying fish broke. In fact, she
+conducted herself exactly as she would have done on board a passenger
+ship. There were moments when she was honestly bored.
+
+Piracy! This was an established fact. Cunningham and his men had stepped
+outside the pale of law in running off with the _Wanderer_. But piracy
+without drunken disorder, piracy that wiped its feet on the doormat and
+hung its hat on the rack! There was a touch of the true farce in it.
+Hadn't Cunningham himself confessed that the whole affair was a joke?
+
+Round two o'clock on the afternoon of the third day Jane, for the moment
+alone in her chair, heard the phonograph--the sextet from Lucia. She left
+her chair, looked down through the open transom and discovered Dennison
+cranking the machine. He must have seen her shadow, for he glanced up
+quickly.
+
+He crooked a finger which said, "Come on down!" She made a negative sign
+and withdrew her head.
+
+Here she was again on the verge of wild laughter. Donizetti! Pirates!
+Glass beads for which Cleigh had voyaged sixteen thousand miles! A father
+and son who ignored each other! She choked down this desire to laugh,
+because she was afraid it might end suddenly in hysteria and tears. She
+returned to her chair, and there was the father arranging himself
+comfortably. He had a book.
+
+"Would you like me to read a while to you?" she offered.
+
+"Will you? You see," he confessed, "I'm troubled with insomnia. If I read
+by myself I only become interested in the book, but if someone reads aloud
+it makes me drowsy."
+
+"As a nurse I've done that hundreds of times. But frankly, I can't read
+poetry; I begin to sing-song it at once; it becomes rime without reason.
+What is the book?"
+
+Cleigh extended it to her. The moment her hands touched the volume she saw
+that she was holding something immeasurably precious. The form was unlike
+the familiar shapes of modern books. The covers consisted of exquisitely
+hand-tooled calf bound by thongs; there was a subtle perfume as she opened
+them. Illuminated vellum. She uttered a pleasurable little gasp.
+
+"The Song of Songs, which is Solomon's," she read.
+
+"Fifteenth century--the vellum. The Florentine covers were probably added
+in the seventeenth. I have four more downstairs. They are museum pieces,
+as we say."
+
+"That is to say, priceless?"
+
+"After a fashion."
+
+"'Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it; if a
+man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly
+be contemned!'"
+
+"Why did you select that?"
+
+"I didn't select it; I remembered it--because it is true."
+
+"You have a very pleasant voice. Go on--read."
+
+Thus for an hour she read to him, and by the time she grew tired Cleigh
+was sound asleep. The look of granite was gone from his face, and she saw
+that he, too, had been handsome in his youth. Why had he struck Denny on
+the mouth? What had the son done so to enrage the father? Some woman! And
+where had she met the man? Oh, she was certain that she had encountered
+him before! But for the present the gate to recollection refused to swing
+outward. Gently she laid the beautiful book on his knees and stole over to
+the rail. For a while she watched the flying fish.
+
+Then came one of those impulses which keep human beings from becoming half
+gods--a wrong impulse, surrendered to immediately, unweighed, unanalyzed,
+unchallenged. The father asleep, the son amusing himself with the
+phonograph, she was now unobserved by her guardians; and so she put into
+execution the thought that had been urging and intriguing her since the
+strange voyage began--a visit to the chart house. She wanted to ask
+Cunningham some questions. He would know something about the Cleighs.
+
+The port door to the chart house was open, latched back against the side.
+She hesitated for a moment outside the high-beamed threshold--hesitated
+because Captain Newton was not visible. The wheelman was alone. Obliquely
+she saw Cunningham, Cleve, and a third man seated round a table which was
+littered. This third man sat facing the port door, and sensing her
+presence he looked up. Rather attractive until one noted the thin, hard
+lips, the brilliant blue eyes. At the sight of Jane something flitted over
+his face, and Jane knew that he was bad.
+
+"What's the matter, Flint?" asked Cunningham, observing the other's
+abstraction.
+
+"We have a visitor," answered Flint.
+
+Cunningham spun his chair round and jumped to his feet.
+
+"Miss Norman? Come in, come in! Anything you need?" he asked with lively
+interest.
+
+"I should like to ask you some questions, Mr. Cunningham."
+
+"Oh! Well, if I can answer them, I will."
+
+He looked significantly at his companions, who rose and left the house by
+the starboard door.
+
+"They can't keep away from him, can they?" said Flint, cynically.
+"Slue-Foot has the come-hither, sure enough. I had an idea she'd be hiking
+this way the first chance she got."
+
+"You haven't the right dope this trip," replied Cleve. "The contract
+reads: Hands off women and booze."
+
+"Psalm-singing pirates! We'll be having prayers Sunday. But that woman is
+my style."
+
+"Better begin digging up a prayer if you've got that bug in your head. If
+you make any fool play in that direction Cunningham will break you. I saw
+you last night staring through the transom. Watch your step, Flint. I'm
+telling you."
+
+"But if she should happen to take a fancy to me, who shall say no?"
+
+"Hate yourself, eh? There was liquor on your breath last night. Did you
+bring some aboard?"
+
+"What's that to you?"
+
+"It's a whole lot to me, my bucko--to me and to the rest of the boys.
+Cleigh will not prosecute us for piracy if we play a decent game until we
+raise the Catwick. On old Van Dorn's tub we can drink and sing if we want
+to. If Cunningham gets a whiff of your breath, when you've had it, you'll
+get yours. Most of the boys have never done anything worse than apple
+stealing. It was the adventure. All keyed up for war and no place to go,
+and this was a kind of safety valve. Already half of them are beginning to
+knock in the knees. Game, understand, but now worried about the future."
+
+"A peg or two before turning in won't hurt anybody. I'm not touching it in
+the daytime."
+
+"Keep away from him when you do--that's all. We're depending on you and
+Cunningham to pull through. If you two get to scrapping the whole business
+will go blooey. If we play the game according to contract there's a big
+chance of getting back to the States without having the sheriff on the
+dock to meet us. But if you mess it up because an unexpected stroke put a
+woman on board, you'll end up as shark bait."
+
+"Maybe I will and maybe I won't," was the truculent rejoinder.
+
+"Lord!" said Cleve, a vast discouragement in his tone. "You lay a course
+as true and fine as a hair, and run afoul a rotting derelict in the
+night!"
+
+Flint laughed.
+
+"Oh, I shan't make any trouble. I'll say my prayers regular until we make
+shore finally. The agreement was to lay off the Cleigh booze. I brought on
+board only a couple of quarts, and they'll be gone before we raise the
+Catwick. But if I feel like talking to the woman I'll do it."
+
+"It's your funeral, not mine," was the ominous comment. "You've been on
+the beach once too often, Flint, to play a game like this straight. But
+Cunningham had to have you, because you know the Malay lingo. Remember, he
+isn't afraid of anything that walks on two feet or four."
+
+"Neither am I--when I want anything. But glass beads!"
+
+"That was only a lure for Cleigh, who'd go round the world for any curio
+he was interested in."
+
+"That's what I mean. If it were diamonds or pearls or rubies, all well and
+good. But a string of glass beads! The old duffer is a nut!"
+
+"Maybe he is. But if you had ten or twelve millions, what would you do?"
+
+"Jump for Prome and foot it to the silk bazaar, where there are three or
+four of the prettiest Burmese girls you ever laid your eyes on. Then I'd
+buy the Galle Face Hotel in Colombo and close it to the public."
+
+"And in five years--the old beach again!"
+
+Flint scowled at the oily, heaving rolls, brassy and dazzling. He was
+bored. For twelve weeks he had circled the dull round of ship routine,
+with never shore leave that was long enough for an ordinary drinking bout.
+He was bored stiff. Suddenly his thin lips broke into a smile. Cleve,
+noting the smile, divined something of the impellent thought behind that
+smile, and he grew uneasy. He recalled his own expression of a few moments
+gone--the unreckoned derelict.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Thank you for coming up," said Cunningham. "It makes me feel that you
+trust me."
+
+"I want to," admitted Jane.
+
+A disturbing phenomenon. Always there was a quickening of her heart-beats
+at the beginning of each encounter with this unusual gentleman rover. It
+was no longer fear. What was it? Was it the face of him, too strong and
+vital for a woman's, too handsome for a man's? Was it his dark, fiery eye
+which was always reversing what his glib tongue said? Some hidden
+magnetism? Alone, the thought of him was recurrent, no matter how
+resolutely she cast it forth. Even now she could not honestly say whether
+she was here to ask questions of Cunningham or of herself. Perhaps it was
+because he was the unknown, whereas Denny was for the most part as
+readable as an open book. The one like the forest stream, sometimes
+turbulent but always clear; the other like the sea through which they
+plowed, smooth, secret, ominous.
+
+"Do your guardians know where you are?"--raillery in his voice.
+
+"No. I came to ask some questions."
+
+"Curiosity. Sit down. What is it you wish to know?"
+
+"All this--and what will be the end?"
+
+"Well, doubtless there will be an end, but I'm not seer enough to foretell
+it."
+
+"Then you have some doubts?"
+
+"Only those that beset all of us."
+
+"But somehow--well, you don't seem to belong to this sort of game."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Unexpectedly he had set a wall between. She had no answer, and her
+embarrassment was visible on her cheeks.
+
+"Here and there across the world rough men call me Slue-Foot. Perhaps my
+deformity has reacted upon my soul and twisted that. Perhaps if my
+countenance had been homely and rugged I would have walked the beaten
+paths of respectability. But the two together!"
+
+"I'm sorry!"
+
+"A woman such as you are would be. You are a true daughter of the great
+mother--Pity. But I have never asked pity of any. I have asked only that a
+man shall keep his word to me as I will keep mine to him."
+
+"But you are risking your liberty, perhaps your life!"
+
+"I've been risking that for more than twenty years. The habit has become
+normal. All my life I've wanted a real adventure."
+
+She gazed at him in utter astonishment.
+
+"An adventure? Why, you yourself told me that you had risked your life a
+hundred times!"
+
+"That?"--with a smile and a shrug. "That was business, the day's work. I
+mean an adventure in which I am accountable to no man."
+
+"Only to God?"
+
+"Well, of course, if you want it that way. For myself, I'm something of a
+pagan. I have dreamed of this day. When you were a little girl didn't you
+dream of a wonderful doll that could walk and make almost human noises?
+Well, I'm realizing my doll. I am going pearl hunting in the South
+Seas--the thing I dreamed of when I was a boy."
+
+"But why commit piracy? Why didn't you hire a steamer?"
+
+"Oh, I must have my joke, too. But I hadn't counted on you. In every
+campaign there is the hollow road of Ohain. Napoleon lost Waterloo because
+of it. Your presence here has forced me to use a hand without velvet.
+These men expected a little fun--cards and drink; and some of them are
+grumbling with discontent. But don't worry. In five days we'll be off on
+our own."
+
+"What is the joke?"
+
+"That will have to wait. For a few minutes I heard you reading to-day.
+Your voice is like a bell at sea in the evening. 'Many waters cannot
+quench love,'" he quoted, the flash of opals in his eyes, though his lips
+were smiling gently. "The Bible is a wonderful book. Its authors were
+poets who were not spoiled by the curse of rime. Does it amuse you to hear
+me talk of the Bible?--an unregenerate scalawag? Well, it is like this: I
+am something of an authority on illuminated manuscripts. I've had to wade
+through hundreds of them. That is the method by which I became acquainted
+with the Scriptures. The Song of Songs! Lord love you, if that isn't pure
+pagan, what is? I prefer the Proverbs. Ask Cleigh if he has that
+manuscript with him. It's in a remarkable state of preservation. Remember?
+'There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I
+know not: The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a
+rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with
+a maid.' Ask Cleigh to show you that."
+
+Cleigh! The name swung her back to the original purpose of this visit.
+
+"Do you know the Cleighs well?"
+
+"I know the father. He has the gift of strong men--unforgetting and
+unforgiving. I know little or nothing about the son, except that he is a
+chip of the old block. Queer twist in events, eh?"
+
+"Have you any idea what estranged them?"
+
+"Didn't know they were at outs until the night before we sailed. They
+don't speak?"
+
+"No. And it seems so utterly foolish!"
+
+"_Cherchez la femme!_"
+
+"You believe that was it?"
+
+"It is always so, always and eternally the woman. I don't mean that she is
+always to blame; I mean that she is always there--in the background. But
+you! I say, now, here's the job for you! Bring them together. That's your
+style. For weeks now you three will be together. Within that time you'll
+be able to twist both of them round your finger. I wonder if you realize
+it? You're not beautiful, but you are something better--splendid. Strong
+men will always be gravitating toward you, wanting comfort, peace. You're
+not the kind that sets men's hearts on fire, that makes absconders, fills
+the divorce courts, and all that. You're like a cool hand on a hot
+forehead. And you have a voice as sweet as a bell."
+
+Instinct--the female fear of the trap--warned Jane to be off, but
+curiosity held her to the chair. She was human; and this flattery, free of
+any suggestion of love-making, gave her a warming, pleasurable thrill.
+Still there was a fly in the amber. Every woman wishes to be credited with
+hidden fires, to possess equally the power to damn men as well as to save
+them.
+
+"Has there never been----"
+
+"A woman? Have I not just said there is always a woman?" He was sardonic
+now. "Mine, seeing me walk, laughed."
+
+"She wasn't worth it!"
+
+"No, she wasn't. But when we are twenty the heart is blind. So Cleigh and
+the boy don't speak?"
+
+"Cleigh hasn't injured you in any way, has he?"
+
+"Injured me? Of course not! I am only forced by circumstance--and an
+oblique sense of the comic--to make a convenience of him. And by the Lord
+Harry, it's up to you to help me out!"
+
+"I?"--bewildered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+Jane gazed through the doorway at the sea. There was apparently no
+horizon, no telling where the sea ended and the faded blue of the sky
+began. There was something about this sea she did not like. She was
+North-born. It seemed to her that there was really less to fear from the
+Atlantic fury than from these oily, ingratiating, rolling mounds. They
+were the Uriah Heep of waters. She knew how terrible they could be, far
+more terrible than the fiercest nor'easter down the Atlantic. Typhoon! How
+could a yacht live through a hurricane? She turned again toward
+Cunningham.
+
+"You are like that," she said, irrelevantly.
+
+"Like what?"
+
+"Like the sea."
+
+Cunningham rose and peered under the half-drawn blind.
+
+"That may be complimentary, but hanged if I know! Smooth?--is that what
+you mean?"
+
+"Kind of terrible."
+
+He sat down again.
+
+"That rather cuts. I might be terrible. I don't know--never met the
+occasion; but I do know that I'm not treacherous. You certainly are not
+afraid of me."
+
+"I don't exactly know. It's--it's too peaceful."
+
+"To last? I see. But it isn't as though I were forcing you to go through
+with the real voyage. Only a few days more, and you'll have seen the last
+of me."
+
+"I hope so."
+
+He chuckled.
+
+"What I meant was," she corrected, "that nothing might happen, nobody get
+hurt. Human beings can plan only so far."
+
+"That's true enough. Every programme is subject to immediate change. But,
+Lord, what a lot of programmes go through per schedule! Still, you are
+right. It all depends upon chance. We say a thing is cut and dried, but we
+can't prove it. But so far as I can see into the future, nothing is going
+to happen, nobody is going to walk the plank. Piracy on a basis of 2.75
+per cent.--the kick gone out of it! But if you can bring about the
+reconciliation of the Cleighs the old boy will not be so keen for chasing
+me all over the map when this job is done."
+
+"Will you tell me what those beads are?"
+
+"To be sure I will--all in due time. What does Cleigh call them?"
+
+"Love beads!" scornfully.
+
+"On my solemn word, that's exactly what they are."
+
+"Very well. But remember, you promise to tell me when the time comes."
+
+"That and other surprising things."
+
+"I'll be going."
+
+"Come up as often as you like."
+
+Cunningham accompanied her to the bridge ladder and remained until she was
+speeding along the deck; then he returned to his chart. But the chart was
+no longer able to hold his attention. So he levelled his gaze upon the
+swinging horizon and kept it there for a time. Odd fancy, picturing the
+girl on the bridge in a hurricane, her hair streaming out behind her, her
+fine body leaning on the wind. A shadow in the doorway broke in upon this
+musing. Cleigh.
+
+"Come in and sit down," invited Cunningham.
+
+But Cleigh ignored the invitation and stepped over to the steersman.
+
+"Has Miss Norman been in here?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"How long was she here?"
+
+"I don't know, sir; perhaps half an hour."
+
+Cleigh stalked to the door, but there he turned, and for the first time
+since Cunningham had taken the yacht Cleigh looked directly, with grim
+intentness, into his enemy's eyes.
+
+"Battle, murder, and sudden death!" Cunningham laughed. "You don't have to
+tell me, Cleigh! I can see it in your eyes. If Miss Norman wants to come
+here and ask questions, I'm the last man to prevent her."
+
+Cleigh thumped down the ladder. Cunningham was right--there was murder in
+his heart. He hurried into the main salon, and there he found Jane and
+Dennison conversing.
+
+"Miss Norman, despite my warning you went up to the chart house."
+
+"I had some questions to ask."
+
+"I forbid you emphatically. I am responsible for you."
+
+"I am no longer your prisoner, Mr. Cleigh; I am Mr. Cunningham's."
+
+"You went up there alone?" demanded Dennison.
+
+"Why not? I'm not afraid. He will not break his word to me."
+
+"Damn him!" roared Dennison.
+
+"Where are you going?" she cried, seizing him by the sleeve.
+
+"To have it out with him! I can't stand this any longer!"
+
+"And what will become of me--if anything happens to you, or anything
+happens to him? What about the crew if he isn't on hand to hold them?"
+
+The muscular tenseness of the arm she held relaxed. But the look he gave
+his father was on a par with that which Cleigh had so recently spent upon
+Cunningham. Cleigh could not support it, and turned his head aside.
+
+"All right. But mind you keep in sight! If you will insist upon talking
+with the scoundrel, at least permit me to be within call. What do you want
+to talk to him for, anyhow?"
+
+"Neither of you will stoop to ask him questions, so I had to. And I have
+learned one thing. He is going pearl hunting."
+
+"What? Off the Catwick? There's no pearl oyster in that region," Dennison
+declared. "Either he is lying or the Catwick is a blind. The only chance
+he'd have would be somewhere in the Sulu Archipelago; and this time of
+year the pearl fleets will be as thick as flies in molasses. Of course if
+he is aware of some deserted atoll, why, there might be something in it."
+
+"Have you ever hunted pearls?"
+
+"In a second-hand sort of way. But if pearls are his game, why commit
+piracy when he could have chartered a tramp to carry his crew? There's
+more than one old bucket hereabouts ready to his hand for coal and
+stores. He'll need a shoe spoon to get inside or by the Sulu fleets, since
+the oyster has been pretty well neglected these five years, and every
+official pearler will be hiking down there. But it requires a certain
+amount of capital and a stack of officially stamped paper, and I don't
+fancy Cunningham has either."
+
+Cleigh smiled dryly, but offered no comment. He knew all about
+Cunningham's capital.
+
+"Did he say anything about being picked up by another boat?" asked
+Dennison.
+
+"No," answered Jane. "But I don't believe it will be hard for me to make
+him tell me that. I believe that he will keep his word, too."
+
+"Jane, he has broken the law of the sea. I don't know what the penalty is
+these days, but it used to be hanging to the yard-arm. He won't be
+particular about his word if by breaking it he can save his skin. He's
+been blarneying you. You've let his plausible tongue and handsome face
+befog you."
+
+"That is not true!" she flared. Afterward she wondered what caused the
+flash of perversity. "And I resent your inference!" she added with
+uplifted chin.
+
+Dennison whirled her about savagely, stared into her eyes, then walked to
+the companion, up which he disappeared. This rudeness astonished her
+profoundly. She appealed silently to the father.
+
+"We are riding a volcano," said Cleigh. "I'm not sure but he's setting
+some trap for you. He may need you as a witness for the defense. Of course
+I can't control your actions, but it would relieve me immensely if you'd
+give him a wide berth."
+
+"He was not the one who brought me aboard."
+
+"No. And the more I look at it, the more I am convinced that you came on
+board of your own volition. You had two or three good opportunities to
+call for assistance."
+
+"You believe that?"
+
+"I've as much right to believe that as you have that Cunningham will keep
+his word."
+
+"Oh!" she cried, but it was an outburst of anger. And it had a peculiar
+twist, too. She was furious because both father and son were partly
+correct; and yet there was no diminution of that trust she was putting in
+Cunningham. "Next you'll be hinting that I'm in collusion with him!"
+
+"No. Only he is an extraordinarily fascinating rogue, and you are wearing
+the tinted goggles of romance."
+
+Fearing that she might utter something regrettable, she flew down the port
+passage and entered her cabin, where she remained until dinner. She spent
+the intervening hours endeavouring to analyze the cause of her temper, but
+the cause was as elusive as quicksilver. Why should she trust Cunningham?
+What was the basis of this trust? He had, as Denny said, broken the law of
+the sea. Was there a bit of black sheep in her, and was the man calling to
+it? And this perversity of hers might create an estrangement between her
+and Denny; she must not let that happen. The singular beauty of the man's
+face, his amazing career, and his pathetic deformity--was that it?
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Where's the captain?" asked Cunningham, curiously, as he noted the vacant
+chair at the table that night.
+
+"On deck, I suppose."
+
+"Isn't he dining to-night?"--an accent of suspicion creeping into his
+voice. "He isn't contemplating making a fool of himself, is he? He'll get
+hurt if he approaches the wireless."
+
+"Togo," broke in Cleigh, "bring the avocats and the pineapple."
+
+Cunningham turned upon him with a laugh.
+
+"Cleigh, when I spin this yarn some day I'll carry you through it as the
+man who never batted an eye. I can see now how you must have bluffed Wall
+Street out of its boots."
+
+When Cunningham saw that Jane was distrait he made no attempt to pull her
+out of it. He ate his dinner, commenting only occasionally. Still, he bade
+her a cheery good-night as he returned to the chart house, where he stayed
+continually, never quite certain what old Captain Newton might do to the
+wheel and the compass if left alone too long.
+
+Dennison came in immediately after Cunningham's departure and contritely
+apologized to Jane for his rudeness.
+
+"I suppose I'm on the rack; nerves all raw; tearing me to pieces to sit
+down and twiddle my thumbs. Will you forgive me?"
+
+"Of course I will! I understand. You are all anxious about me.
+Theoretically, this yacht is a volcano, and you're trying to keep me from
+kicking off the lid. But I've an idea that the lid will stay on tightly if
+we make believe we are Mr. Cunningham's guests. But it is almost
+impossible to suspect that anything is wrong. Whenever a member of the
+crew comes in sight he is properly polite, just as he would be on a liner.
+If I do go to the bridge again I'll give you warning. Good-night, Mr.
+Cleigh, I'll read to you in the morning. Good-night--Denny."
+
+Cleigh, sighing contentedly, dipped his fingers into the finger bowl and
+brushed his lips.
+
+The son drank a cup of coffee hastily, lit his pipe, and went on deck. He
+proceeded directly to the chart house.
+
+"Cunningham, I'll swallow my pride and ask a favour of you."
+
+"Ah!"--in a neutral tone.
+
+"The cook tells me that all the wine and liquor are in the dry-stores
+compartment. Will you open it and let me chuck the stuff overboard?"
+
+"No," said Cunningham, promptly. "When I turn this yacht back to your
+father not a single guy rope will be out of order. It would be a fine
+piece of work to throw all those rare vintages over the rail simply to
+appease an unsubstantial fear on your part! No!"
+
+"But if the men should break in? And it would be easy, because it is
+nearer them than us."
+
+"Thank your father for building the deck like a city flat. But if the boys
+should break in, there's the answer," said Cunningham, laying his
+regulation revolver on the chart table. "And every mother's son of them
+knows it."
+
+"You refuse?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"All right. But if anything happens I'll be on top of you, and all the
+bullets in that clip won't stop me."
+
+"Captain, you bore me. Your father and the girl are good sports. You ought
+to be one. I've given you the freedom of the yacht for the girl's sake
+when caution bids me dump you into the brig. I begin to suspect that your
+misfortunes are due to a violent temper. Run along with your thunder; I
+don't want you hurt."
+
+"If I come through this alive----"
+
+"You'll join your dad peeling off my hide--if you can catch me!"
+
+It was with the greatest effort that Dennison crushed down the desire to
+leap upon his tormentor. He stood tense for a moment, then stepped out
+upon the bridge. His fury was suffocating him, and he realized that he was
+utterly helpless.
+
+Ten minutes later the crew in their quarters were astonished to see the
+old man's son enter. None of them stirred.
+
+"I say, any you chaps got an extra suit of twill? This uniform is getting
+too thick for this latitude. I'm fair melting down to the bone."
+
+"Sure!" bellowed a young giant, swinging out of his bunk. He rummaged
+round for a space and brought forth a light-weight khaki shirt and a pair
+of ducks. "Guess these'll fit you, sir."
+
+"Thanks. Navy stores?"
+
+"Yes, sir. You're welcome."
+
+Dennison's glance travelled from face to face, and he had to admit that
+there was none of the criminal type here. They might carry through
+decently. Nevertheless, hereafter he would sleep on the lounge in the
+main salon. If any tried to force the dry-stores door he would be likely
+to hear it.
+
+At eleven o'clock the following morning there occurred an episode which
+considerably dampened Jane's romantical point of view regarding this
+remarkable voyage. Cleigh had gone below for some illuminated manuscripts
+and Dennison was out of sight for the moment. She leaned over the rail and
+watched the flying fish. Suddenly out of nowhere came the odour of
+whisky.
+
+"You ought to take a trip up to the cutwater at night and see the flying
+fish in the phosphorescence."
+
+She did not stir. Instinctively she knew who the owner of this voice would
+be--the man Cunningham called Flint. A minute--an unbearable
+minute--passed.
+
+"Oh! Too haughty to be a good fellow, huh?"
+
+Footsteps, a rush of wind, a scuffling, and an oath brought her head
+about. She saw Flint go balancing and stumbling backward, finally to sprawl
+on his hands and knees, and following him, in an unmistakable attitude,
+was Dennison. Jane was beginning to understand these Cleighs; their rage
+was terrible because it was always cold.
+
+"Denny!" she called.
+
+But Dennison continued on toward Flint.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+Flint was a powerful man, or had been. The surprise of the attack over, he
+jumped to his feet, and blazing with murderous fury rushed Dennison. Jane
+saw a tangle of arms, and out of this tangle came a picture that would
+always remain vivid--Flint practically dangling at the end of Dennison's
+right arm. The rogue tore and heaved and kicked and struck, but futilely,
+because his reach was shorter. Dennison let go unexpectedly.
+
+"Listen to me, you filthy beachcomber! If you ever dare speak to Miss
+Norman again or come within ten feet of her I'll kill you with bare hands!
+There are no guns on board this yacht--bare hands. Now go back to your
+master and say that I'd like to do the same to him."
+
+Flint, his hands touching his throat with inquiring solicitude--Flint eyed
+Dennison with that mixture of pain and astonishment that marks the face of
+a man who has been grossly deceived. Slowly he revolved on his shaking
+legs and staggered forward, shortly to disappear round the deck house.
+
+"Oh, Denny, you've done a foolish thing! You've shamed that man before me
+and put murder in his heart. It isn't as if we were running the yacht. We
+are prisoners of that man and his fellows. It would have been enough for
+you to have stepped in between."
+
+"I haven't any parlour varnish left, Jane. His shoulder was almost
+touching yours. It was an intentional insult, and that was enough for me.
+The dog! Still looking at the business romantically?"
+
+His tone was bitter. Her reproach, no doubt justified, cut deeply.
+
+"No, I'm beginning to become a little afraid--afraid that the men may get
+out of hand. I don't care what you and your father think, but I believe
+Cunningham honestly wishes us to reach the Catwick without any conflict."
+
+"Ah, Cunningham!"
+
+"There you go again--angry and bitter! Why can't you take it sensibly,
+like your father?"
+
+"My father doesn't happen to be----"
+
+He stopped with mystifying abruptness.
+
+"Doesn't happen to be what?"
+
+"The sort of fool I am!"
+
+"You're not so good a comrade as you were."
+
+"Can't you understand? I've been stood upon my head. The worry about you
+on one side and the contact with my father on the other would be
+sufficient. But Cunningham and this pirate crew as a tail to the kite!
+But, thank God, I had the wit to come in search of you!"
+
+"I thank God every minute, Denny! You are very strong," she added, shyly.
+
+"Glad of that, too. But I repeat, I've lost the parlour varnish and the
+art of parlour talk. For seven years I've been wandering in strange
+places, most of them hard; so I say what I think and act on the spur. That
+dog had liquor on his breath. Is Cunningham secretly letting them into the
+dry-stores?"
+
+"The man may have brought it aboard at Shanghai. What a horrible thing a
+great war is! In a week it knocks aside all the bars of restraint it took
+years to erect. Could a venture like this have happened in 1913? I doubt
+it. There comes your father. But who is the man with him? He's been
+hurt."
+
+"Father's watchdog. They had to beat him up to get his gun away from him.
+That was the racket we heard. Evidently Father expects you to read to him,
+so I'll take a constitutional."
+
+"Why, where's your uniform?" she cried.
+
+"Laid it aside. From now on it will be stuffy. Those military boots were
+killing me. I borrowed the rig from one of the pirates, but I'll have to
+go barefoot."
+
+"Will you come to your chair soon? I shall worry otherwise. You might run
+into that man again."
+
+"I shan't go below," he promised, starting off.
+
+Twenty thousand at compound interest for seven years, he thought, as he
+made the first turn. A tidy sum to start life with. Could he swallow his
+pride? And yet what hope was there of making a real living? He had never
+specialized in anything, and the world was calling for specialists and
+discarding the others. Another point to consider: Foot-loose for seven
+years, could he stand the shackles of office work, routine, the sameness
+day in and day out? He was returning to the States without the least idea
+what he wanted to do; that was the disturbing phase of it. If only he were
+keen for something! A typical son of the rich man. The only point in his
+favour was that he had not spent his allowances up and down Broadway. No,
+he would never touch a dollar of that money. That was final.
+
+What lay back of this sudden desire to make good in the world? Love! There
+wasn't the slightest use in lying to himself. He wanted Jane Norman with
+all the blood in his body, with all the marrow in his bones; and he had
+nothing to offer her but empty hands.
+
+He shot a glance toward the bridge. And because he had no right to
+speak--obligated to silence by two reasons--that easy-speaking scoundrel
+might trap her fancy. It could not be denied that he was handsome, but he
+was nevertheless a rogue. The two reasons why he must not speak were
+potent. In the first place, he had nothing to offer; in the second place,
+the terror she was no doubt hiding bravely would serve only to confuse
+her--that is, she might confuse a natural desire for protection with
+something deeper and tenderer, and then discover her mistake when it was
+too late.
+
+What was she going to ask of his father when the time came for reparation?
+That puzzled him.
+
+He made the rounds steadily for an hour, and during this time Jane
+frequently looked over the top of the manuscript she was reading aloud. At
+length she laid the manuscript upon her knees.
+
+"Mr. Cleigh, what is it that makes art treasures so priceless?"
+
+"Generally the depth of the buyer's purse. That is what they say of me in
+the great auction rooms."
+
+"But you don't buy them just because you are rich enough to outbid
+somebody else?"
+
+"No, I am actually fond of all the treasures I possess. Aside from this,
+it is the most fascinating game there is. The original! A painting that
+Holbein laid his own brushes on, mixed his own paint for! I have then
+something of the man, tangible, visible; something of his beautiful
+dreams, his poverty, his success. There before me is the authentic labour
+of his hand, which was guided by the genius of his brain--before machinery
+spoiled mankind. Oh, yes, machinery has made me rich! It has given the
+proletariat the privilege of wearing yellow diamonds and riding about in
+flivvers. That must be admitted. But to have lived in those days when
+ambition thought only in beauty! To have been the boon companions of men
+like Da Vinci, Cellini, Michelangelo! Then there are the adventures of
+this concrete dream of the artist. I can trace it back to the bare studio
+in which it was conceived, follow its journeys, its abiding places, down
+to the hour it comes to me."
+
+Jane stared at him astonishedly. All that had been crampedly hidden in his
+soul flowed into his face, warming and mellowing it, even beautifying it.
+Cleigh went on:
+
+"Where will it go when I have done my little span? What new adventures lie
+in store for it? Across the Ponte Vecchio in Florence runs a gallery of
+portraits: at the south end of this gallery there is or was a corner given
+over to a copyist. He strikes you dumb with the cleverness of his work,
+but he has only an eye and a hand--he hasn't a soul. A copy is to the
+original what a dummy is to a live man, no matter how amazingly well done
+the copy is. The original, the dream; nothing else satisfies the true
+collector."
+
+"I didn't know," said Jane, "that you had so much romance in you."
+
+"Romance?" It was almost a bark.
+
+"Why, certainly. No human being could love beauty the way you do and not
+be romantic."
+
+"Romantic!" Cleigh leaned back in his chair. "That's a new point of view
+for Tungsten Cleigh. That's what my enemies call me--the hardest metal on
+earth. Romantic!" He chuckled. "To hear a woman call me romantic!"
+
+"It does not follow that to be romantic one must be sentimental. Romance
+is something heroic, imaginative, big; it isn't a young man and a girl
+spooning on a park bench. I myself am romantic, but nobody could possibly
+call me sentimental."
+
+"No?"
+
+"Why, if I knew that we'd come through this without anybody getting hurt
+I'd be gloriously happy. All my life I've been cooped up. For a little
+while to be free! But I don't like that."
+
+She indicated Dodge, who sat in Dennison's chair, his head bandaged, his
+arm in a sling, thousands of miles from his native plains, at odds with
+his environment. His lean brown jaws were set and the pupils of his blue
+eyes were mere pin points. During the discussion of art, during the
+reading, he had not stirred.
+
+"You mean," said Cleigh, gravely, "that Dodge may be only the beginning?"
+
+"Yes. Your--Captain Dennison had an encounter with the man Flint before
+you came up. He is very strong and--and a bit intolerant."
+
+"Ah!" Cleigh rubbed his jaw and smiled ruminatively. "He was always rather
+handy with his fists. Did he kill the ruffian?"
+
+"No, held him at arm's length and threatened to kill him. I'm afraid Flint
+will not accept the situation with good grace."
+
+"Flint? I never liked that rogue's face."
+
+"He has found liquor somewhere, and I saw murder in his eyes. Denny isn't
+afraid, and that's why I am--afraid he'll run amuck uselessly. His very
+strength will react against him."
+
+"I was like that thirty years ago." So she called him Denny? Cleigh laid
+his hand over hers. "Keep your chin up. There's a revolver handy should we
+need it. I dare not carry it for fear Cunningham might discover and
+confiscate it. Six bullets."
+
+"And if worse comes to worse, will--will you save one for me? Please don't
+let Denny do it! You are old, and if you lived after it wouldn't be in
+your thoughts so long as it would be in his--if he killed me. Will you
+promise?"
+
+"Yes--if worse comes to worse. Will you forgive me?"
+
+"I do. But still I'm going to hold you to your word."
+
+"I'll pay the score, whatever it is. Now suppose you come below with me
+and take a look at the paintings? You haven't seen my cabin yet."
+
+What was this unusual young woman going to ask of him? He wondered. The
+more he thought over it the more convinced he was that she had assisted in
+the abduction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+After they had gone below Dennison dropped into Jane's chair. Immediately
+Dodge began to talk: "So you nearly throttled that ornery coyote, huh?
+Whata you know about this round-up? The three o' 'em came in, and I never
+smelt nothin' until they were on top o' me. How should I smell anythin'?
+Hobnobbing together for days, how was I to know they were a bunch of
+pirates? Is your old man sore?"
+
+"Naturally."
+
+"I mean appertainin' to me?"
+
+"I don't see how he could be. Who took care of you--bound you up?"
+
+"That nice-lookin' greaser with the slue foot. Soft speakin' like a woman
+and an eye like a timber wolf. Some _hombre_! Where we bound for?"
+
+"God knows!"--dejectedly.
+
+"Bad as that, huh? Your girl?"
+
+"No."
+
+"No place for a girl. If they hadn't busted my arm I wouldn't care so
+much! If it comes to a show-down I won't be no good to anybody. Gimme my
+guns and we'd be headin' home in five minutes. These _hombres_ know
+somethin' o' my gun play. Gee, it's lonesome here!" Dodge mused for a
+moment. "Say, what's your old man's idea hog-tyin' you that-a-way?"
+
+"He'll tell you perhaps."
+
+"Uh-huh. Say, what did the Lord make all that stuff for?" with a gesture
+toward the brazen sea. "What's it good for, anyhow?"
+
+"But for the sea we wouldn't have any oysters or codfish," said Dennison,
+soberly.
+
+Dodge chuckled.
+
+"Oysters and codfish! Say, you're all right! Never knew the old man had a
+son until you blew in. Back in New York nobody ever said nothin' about
+you. Where you been?"
+
+"Lots of places."
+
+"Any ridin'?"
+
+"Some."
+
+"Can you shoot?"
+
+"A little."
+
+"Kill any o' them Bolsheviks?"
+
+"That would be guesswork. Did you ever kill a man?"
+
+"Nope. Didn't have to. I'm pretty good on the draw, and where I come from
+they knew it and didn't bother me."
+
+"I see."
+
+"Shootin' these days is all in the movies. I was ridin' for a film company
+when your old man lassoed me for this job. Never know when you're well
+off--huh? I thought there wouldn't be nothin' to do but grub pile three
+times a day and the old man's cheroots in between. And here I be now,
+ridin' along with a bunch of pirates! Whata you know about that? And some
+of them nice boys, too. If they were riff-raff, barroom bums, I could get
+a line on it. But I'll have to pass the buck."
+
+"You haven't got an extra gun anywhere, have you?"
+
+"We'd be headin' east if I had"--grimly. "I'd have pared down the odds
+this mornin'. That _hombre_ with the hop-a-long didn't leave me a quill
+toothpick. Was you thinkin' of startin' somethin'?"--hopefully.
+
+"No, but I'd feel more comfortable if Miss Norman could carry a gun."
+
+"Uh-huh. Say, she's all right. No hysterics. Ain't many of 'em that
+wouldn't 'a' been snivellin' all day and night in her bunk. Been listenin'
+to her readin'. Gee, you'd think we were floatin' round this codfish lake
+just for the fun of it! She won't run to cover if a bust-up comes. None
+whatever! And I bet she can cook, too. Them kind can always cook."
+
+Conversation lapsed.
+
+Below, Jane was passing through an unusual experience.
+
+Said Cleigh at the start: "I'm going to show you the paintings--there are
+fourteen in all. I will tell you the history of each. And above all,
+please bear in mind the price of each picture."
+
+"I'll remember."
+
+But she thought the request an odd one, coming from the man as she knew
+him.
+
+Most of the treasures were in his own spacious cabin. There was a
+Napoleonic corner--a Meissonier on one side and a Detaille on the other.
+In a stationary cabinet there were a pair of stirrups, a riding crop, a
+book on artillery tactics, a pair of slippers beaded with seed pearls, and
+a buckle studded with sapphires.
+
+"What are those?" she asked, attracted.
+
+"They belonged to the Emperor and his first Empress."
+
+"Napoleon?"
+
+"The Corsican. Next to the masters, I've a passion for things genuinely
+Napoleonic. The hussar is by Meissonier and the skirmish by Detaille."
+
+"How much is this corner worth?"
+
+"I can't say, except that I would not part with those objects for a
+hundred thousand; and there are friends of mine who would pay half that
+sum for them--behind my back. This is a Da Vinci."
+
+Half an hour passed. Jane honestly tried to be thrilled by the splendour
+of the names she heard, but her eye was always travelling back toward the
+slippers and the buckle. The Empress Josephine! Romance and gallantry in
+the old, old days!
+
+"The painting in your cabin is by Holbein. It cost me sixteen thousand.
+Now let us go out and look at the rug. That is the apple of my eye. It is
+the second finest example of the animal rug in the world. A sheet of pure
+gold, half an inch thick, covering the rug from end to end, would not
+equal its worth."
+
+Jane admired the rug, but she would have preferred the gold. Her sense of
+the beautiful was alive, but there was always in her mind the genteel
+poverty of the past. She was beginning to understand. To go in quest of
+the beautiful required an unlimited purse and an endless leisure; and she
+would have never the one nor the other.
+
+"How much gold would that be?" she inquired, naïvely.
+
+"Nearly eighty thousand. Have you kept in mind the sums I have given
+you?"
+
+"Yes. Let me see--good heavens, a quarter of a million! But why do you
+carry them about like this?"
+
+"Because I'm something of a rogue myself. I could not enjoy the rug and
+the paintings except on board. The French, the Italian, and the Spanish
+governments could confiscate every solitary painting except the Meissonier
+and the Detaille, for the simple reason that they were stolen. Oh, I did
+not steal them myself; I merely purchased them with one eye shut. If I
+hadn't bought them they would have gone to some other collector. Do you
+get a glimmer of the truth now?"
+
+"The truth?"--perplexedly.
+
+"Yes--where Cunningham will get his pearls?"--bitterly.
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"And I could not touch him. A quarter of a million! And with his knowledge
+of the secret marts he could easily dispose of them. Worth a bold stroke,
+eh?"
+
+"But how will he get them off the yacht--transship them?"
+
+Her faith in Cunningham began to waver. A quarter of a million! The
+thought was as bells in her ears.
+
+"Of the outside issues I have no inkling. But I have shown you his
+pearls."
+
+"But the crew! Certainly they will not return to any port with us. And why
+should he lie to me? There is no reason in the world why he shouldn't
+have told me, if he had committed piracy to obtain your paintings. And he
+was poring over maps."
+
+"Some tramp is probably going to pick him up. He's ordered us away from
+the wireless. Cunningham must have his joke, so he is beguiling you with
+twaddle about hunting pearls. He is robbing me of my treasures, and I
+can't strike back on that count. But I can land him in prison on the count
+of piracy; and by the Lord Harry, I'll do it if it takes my last dollar!
+He'll rue this adventure, or they call me Tungsten for nothing!"
+
+"I wanted so to believe in him!"
+
+"Not difficult to understand why. He has a silver tongue and a face like
+John the Baptist--del Sarto's--and you are romantic. The picture of him
+has enlisted your sympathies. You are filled with pity that he should be
+so richly endowed, facially and mentally, and to be a cripple such as
+children laugh over."
+
+"Have you never considered what mental anguish must be the portion of a
+man whose body is twisted as his is? I know. So I pity him profoundly,
+even if he is a rogue. That's all I was born for--to pity and to bind up.
+And I pity you, Mr. Cleigh, you who have walled your heart in granite."
+
+"You're plain-spoken, young lady."
+
+"Yes, certain sick minds need plain speaking."
+
+"Then my mind is sick?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And only a little while gone it was romantic!"
+
+"Two hundred million hands begging for bread, and you crossing the world
+for a string of glass beads whose value is only sentimental!"
+
+"I can't let that pass, Miss Norman. I have trusted lieutenants who attend
+to my charities. I'm not a miser."
+
+"You are, with the greatest thing in the world--human love."
+
+"Shall a man give it where it is not wanted? But enough of this talk. I
+have shown you Cunningham's pearls."
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Night and wheeling stars. It was stuffy in the crew's quarters. Half
+naked, the men lolled about, some in their bunks, some on the floor. The
+orders were that none should sleep on deck during the voyage to the
+Catwick.
+
+"All because the old man brings a skirt on board, we have to sweat blood
+in the forepeak!" growled Flint. "We've got a right to a little sport."
+
+"Sure we have!"
+
+The speaker was sitting on the edge of his bunk. He was a fine specimen
+of young manhood, with a pleasant, rollicking Irish countenance. He looked
+as if he had been brought up clean and had carried his cleanliness into
+the world. The blue anchor and love birds on his formidable forearms
+proclaimed him a deep-sea man. It was he who had given Dennison the shirt
+and the ducks.
+
+"Sure, we have a right to a little sport! But why call in the undertaker
+to help us out? You poor fish, all the way from San Francisco you've been
+grousing because shore leaves weren't long enough for you to get prime
+soused in. What's two months in our young lives?"
+
+"I've always been free to do as I liked."
+
+"You look it! I'll say so! The chief laid down the rules of this game, and
+we all took oath to follow those rules. The trouble with you is, you've
+been reading dime novels. Where do you think you are--raiding the Spanish
+Main? There's every chance of our coming out top hole, as those
+lime-juicers say, with oodles of dough and a whole skin."
+
+"Say, don't I know this Sulu game? I tell you, if he does find his atoll
+there won't be any shell. Not a chance in a hundred! Somebody's been
+giving him a song and dance. As I get the dope, some pearl-hunting friend
+of his croaks and leaves him this chart. Old stuff! I bet a million boobs
+have croaked trying to locate the red cross on a chart."
+
+"Why the devil did you sign on, then?"
+
+"I wanted a little fun, and I'm going to have it. There's champagne and
+Napoleon brandy in the dry-stores. Wouldn't hurt us to have a little of
+it. If we've got to go to jail we might as well go lit up."
+
+"Flint, you talk too much," said a voice from the doorway. It was
+Cunningham's. He leaned carelessly against the jamb. The crew fell silent
+and motionless. "Boys, you've heard Hennessy. Play it my way and you'll
+wear diamonds; mess it up and you'll all wear hemp. The world will forgive
+us when it finds out we've only made it laugh." Cunningham strolled over
+to Flint, who rose to his feet. "Flint, I want that crimp-house whisky
+you've been swigging on the sly. No back talk! Hand it over!"
+
+"And if I don't?" said Flint, his jaw jutting.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+Cunningham did not answer immediately. From Flint his glance went roving
+from man to man, as if trying to read what they expected of him.
+
+"Flint, you were recommended to me for your knowledge of the Sulu lingo.
+We'll need a crew of divers, and we'll have to pick them up secretly.
+That's your job. It's your only job outside doing your watch with the
+shovel below. Somehow you've got the wrong idea. You think this is a
+junket of the oil-lamp period. All wrong! You don't know me, and that's a
+pity; because if you did know something about me you'd walk carefully.
+When we're off this yacht, I don't say. If you want what old-timers used
+to call their pannikin of rum, you'll be welcome to it. But on board the
+_Wanderer_, nothing doing. Get your duffel out. I'll have a look at it."
+
+"Get it yourself," said Flint.
+
+Cunningham appeared small and boyish beside the ex-beachcomber.
+
+"I'm speaking to you decently, Flint, when I ought to bash in your head."
+
+The tone was gentle and level.
+
+"Why don't you try it?"
+
+The expectant men thereupon witnessed a feat that was not only deadly in
+its precision but oddly grotesque. Cunningham's right hand flew out with
+the sinister quickness of a cobra's strike, and he had Flint's brawny
+wrist in grip. He danced about, twisted and lurched until he came to an
+abrupt stop behind Flint's back. Flint's mouth began to bend at the
+corners--a grimace.
+
+"You'll break it yourself, Flint, if you move another inch," said
+Cunningham, nonchalantly. "This is the gentlest trick I have in the bag.
+Cut out the booze until we're off this yacht. Be a good sport and play the
+game according to contract. I don't like these side shows. But you wanted
+me to show you. Want to call it off?"
+
+Sweat began to bead Flint's forehead. He was straining every muscle in his
+body to minimize that inexorable turning of his elbow and shoulder.
+
+"The stuff is in Number Two bunker," he said, with a ghastly grin. "I'll
+chuck it over."
+
+"There, now!" Cunningham stepped back. "I might have made it your neck.
+But I'm patient, because I want this part of the game to go through
+according to schedule. When I turn back this yacht I want nothing missing
+but the meals I've had."
+
+Flint rubbed his arm, scowling, and walked over to his bunk.
+
+"Boys," said Cunningham, "so far you've been bricks. Shortly we'll be
+heading southeast on our own. Wherever I am known, men will tell you that
+I never break my word. I promised you that we'd come through with clean
+heels. Something has happened which we could not forestall. There is a
+woman on board. It is not necessary to say that she is under my
+protection."
+
+He clumped out into the passage.
+
+"Well, say!" burst out the young sailor named Hennessy. "I'm a tough guy,
+but I couldn't have turned that trick. Hey, you! If you've got any hooch
+in the coal bunkers, heave it over. I'm telling you! These soft-spoken
+guys are the kind I lay off, believe you me! I've seen all kinds, and I
+know."
+
+"Did they kick you out of the Navy?" snarled Flint.
+
+"Say, are you asking me to do it?" flared the Irishman. "You poor boob,
+you'd be in the sick bay if there hadn't been a lady on board."
+
+"A lady?"
+
+"I said a lady! Stand up, you scut!"
+
+But Flint rolled into his bunk and turned his face to the partition.
+
+Cunningham leaned against the port rail. These bursts of fury always left
+him depressed. He was not a fighting man at all and fate was always
+flinging him into physical contests. He might have killed the fool: he had
+been in a killing mood. He was tired. Somehow the punch was gone from the
+affair, the thrill. Why should that be?
+
+For years he had been planning something like this, and then to have it
+taste like stale wine! Vaguely he knew that he had made a discovery. The
+girl! If he were poring over his chart, his glance would drift away; if he
+were reading, the printed page had a peculiar way of vanishing. Of course
+it was all nonsense. But that night in Shanghai something had drawn him
+irresistibly to young Cleigh's table. It might have been the colour of her
+hair. At any rate, he hadn't noticed the beads until he had spoken to
+young Cleigh.
+
+Glass beads! Queer twist. A little trinket, worthless except for
+sentimental reasons, throwing these lives together. Of course an oil would
+have lured the elder Cleigh across the Pacific quite as successfully. The
+old chap had been particularly keen for a sea voyage after having been
+cooped up for four years. But in the event of baiting the trap with a
+painting neither the girl nor the son would have been on board. And Flint
+could have had his noggin without anybody disturbing him, even if the
+contract read otherwise.
+
+Law-abiding pirates! How the world would chuckle if the yarn ever reached
+the newspapers! He had Cleigh in the hollow of his hand. In fancy he saw
+Cleigh placing his grievance with the British Admiralty. He could imagine
+the conversation, too.
+
+"They returned the yacht in perfect condition?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did they steal anything?"
+
+Cunningham could positively see Cleigh's jowls redden as he shook his head
+to the query.
+
+"Sorry. You can't expect us to waste coal hunting for a scoundrel who only
+borrowed your yacht."
+
+But what was the row between Cleigh and his son? That was a puzzler. Not a
+word! They ignored each other absolutely. These dinners were queer games,
+to be sure. All three men spoke to the girl, but neither of the Cleighs
+spoke to him or to each other. A string of glass beads!
+
+What about himself? What had caused his exuberance to die away, his
+enthusiasm to grow dim? Why, a month gone he would burst into such gales
+of laughter that his eyes would fill with tears at the thought of this
+hour! And the wine tasted flat. The greatest sea joke of the age, and he
+couldn't boil up over it any more!
+
+Love? He had burnt himself out long ago. But had it been love? Rather had
+it not been a series of false dawns? To a weepy-waily woman he would have
+offered the same courtesies, but she would not have drawn his thoughts in
+any manner. And this one kept entering his thoughts at all times. That
+would be a joke, wouldn't it? At this day to feel the scorch of genuine
+passion!
+
+To dig a pit for Cleigh and to stumble into another himself! In setting
+this petard he hadn't got out of range quickly enough. His sense of humour
+was so keen that he laughed aloud, with a gesture which invited the gods
+to join him.
+
+Jane, who had been watching the solitary figure from the corner of the
+deck house and wondering who it was, recognized the voice. The cabin had
+been stuffy, her own mental confusion had driven sleep away, so she had
+stolen on deck for the purpose of viewing the splendours of the Oriental
+night. The stars that seemed so near, so soft; the sea that tossed their
+reflections hither and yon, or spun a star magically into a silver thread
+and immediately rolled it up again; the brilliant electric blue of the
+phosphorescence and the flash of flying fish or a porpoise that ought to
+have been home and in bed.
+
+She hesitated. She was puzzled. She was not afraid of him--the puzzle lay
+somewhere else. She was a little afraid of herself. She was afraid of
+anything that could not immediately be translated into ordinary terms of
+expression. The man frankly wakened her pity. He seemed as lonely as the
+sea itself. Slue-Foot! And somewhere a woman had laughed at him. Perhaps
+that had changed everything, made him what he was.
+
+She wondered if she would ever be able to return to the shell out of which
+the ironic humour of chance had thrust her. Wondered if she could pick up
+again philosophically the threads of dull routine. Jane Norman, gliding
+over this mysterious southern sea, a lone woman among strong and reckless
+men! Piracy! Pearls! Rugs and paintings worth a quarter of a million!
+Romance!
+
+Did she want it to last? Did she want romance all the rest of her days?
+What was this thing within her that was striving for expression? For what
+was she hunting? What worried her and put fear into her heart was the
+knowledge that she did not know what she wanted. From all directions came
+questions she could not answer.
+
+Was she in love? If so, where was the fire that should attend? Was it
+Denny--or yonder riddle? She felt contented with Denny, but Cunningham's
+presence seemed to tear into unexplored corners of her heart and brain.
+If she were in love with Denny, why didn't she thrill when he approached?
+There was only a sense of security, contentment.
+
+The idea of racing round the world romantically with Denny struck her as
+absurd. Equally contrary to reason was the picture of herself and
+Cunningham sitting before a wood fire. What was the matter with Jane
+Norman?
+
+There was one bar of light piercing the fog. She knew now why she had
+permitted Cleigh to abduct her. To bring about a reconciliation between
+father and son. And apparently there was as much chance as of east meeting
+west. She walked over to the rail and joined Cunningham.
+
+"You?" he said.
+
+"The cabin was stuffy. I couldn't sleep."
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"If there isn't a wild streak in you that corresponds with mine. You fall
+into the picture naturally--curious and unafraid."
+
+"Why should I be afraid, and why shouldn't I be curious?"
+
+"The greatest honour a woman ever paid me. I mean that you shouldn't be
+afraid of me when everything should warn you to give me plenty of sea
+room."
+
+"I know more about men than I do about women."
+
+"And I know too much about both."
+
+"There have been other women--besides the one who laughed?"
+
+"Yes. Perhaps I was cruel enough to make them pay for that.
+
+         "'Funny an' yellow an' faithful--
+         Doll in a teacup she were,
+         But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair,
+         An' I learned about women from 'er!'
+
+"But I wonder what would have happened if it had been a woman like you
+instead of the one who laughed."
+
+"I shouldn't have laughed."
+
+"This damned face of mine!"
+
+"You mustn't say that! Why not try to make over your soul to match it?"
+
+"How is that done?"
+
+The irony was so gentle that she fell silent for a space.
+
+"Are you going to take Mr. Cleigh's paintings when you leave us?"
+
+"My dear young lady, all I have left to be proud of is my word. I give it
+to you that I am going after pearls. It may sound crazy, but I can't help
+that. I am realizing a dream. I'm something of a fatalist--I've had to
+be. I've always reasoned that if I could make the dream come true--this
+dream of pearls--I'd have a chance to turn over a new leaf. I've had to
+commit acts at times that were against my nature, my instincts. I've had
+to be cruel and terrible, because men would not believe a pretty man could
+be a strong one. Do you understand? I have been forced to cruel deeds
+because men would not credit a man's heart behind a woman's face. I
+possess tremendous nervous energy. That's the principal curse. I can't sit
+still; I can't remain long anywhere; I must go, go, go! Like the Wandering
+Jew, Ishmael."
+
+"Do you know what Ishmael means?"
+
+"No. What?"
+
+"'God heareth.' Have you ever asked Him for anything?"
+
+"No. Why should I, since He gave me this withered leg? Please don't preach
+to me."
+
+"I won't, then. But I'm terribly sorry."
+
+"Of course you are. But--don't become too sorry. I might want to carry you
+off to my atoll."
+
+"If you took me away with you by force, I'd hate you and you'd hate
+yourself. But you won't do anything like that."
+
+"What makes you believe so?"
+
+"I don't know why, but I do believe it."
+
+"To be trusted by a woman, a good woman! I'll tell that to the stars. Tell
+me about yourself--what you did and how you lived before you came this
+side."
+
+It was not a long story, and he nodded from time to time understandingly.
+Genteel poverty, a life of scrimp and pare--the cage. Romance--a flash of
+it--and she would return to the old life quite satisfied. Peace, a stormy
+interlude; then peace again indefinitely. It came to him that he wanted
+the respect of this young woman for always. But the malice that was ever
+bubbling up to his tongue and finding speech awoke.
+
+"Suppose I find my pearls--and then come back for you? Romance and
+adventure! These warm stars always above us at night; the brilliant days;
+the voyages from isle to isle; palms and gay parrakeets, cocoanuts and
+mangosteens--and let the world go hang!"
+
+She did not reply, but she moved a little away. He waited for a minute,
+then laughed softly.
+
+"My dear young lady, this is the interlude you've always been longing for.
+Fate has popped you out of the normal for a few days, and presently she'll
+pop you back into it. Some day you'll marry and have children; you'll sink
+into the rut of monotony again and not be conscious of it. On winter
+nights, before the fire, when the children have been put to bed, your man
+buried behind his evening paper, you will recall Slue-Foot and the
+interlude and be happy over it. You'll hug and cuddle it to your heart
+secretly. A poignant craving in your life had been satisfied. Kidnapped by
+pirates, under Oriental stars! Fifteen men on a dead man's chest--yo-ho,
+and a bottle of rum! A glorious adventure, with three meals the day and
+grand opera on the phonograph. Shades of Gilbert and Sullivan! And you
+will always be wondering whether the pirate made love to you in jest or in
+earnest--and he'll always be wondering, too!"
+
+Cunningham turned away abruptly and clumped toward the bridge ladder,
+which he mounted.
+
+For some inexplicable reason her heart became filled with wild resentment
+against him. Mocking her, when she had only offered him kindness! She
+clung to the idea of mockery because it was the only tangible thing she
+could pluck from her confusion. Thus when she began the descent of the
+companionway and ran into Dennison coming up her mood was not receptive to
+reproaches.
+
+"Where have you been?" he demanded.
+
+"Watching the stars and the phosphorescence. I could not sleep."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"No. Mr. Cunningham was with me."
+
+"I warned you to keep away from that scoundrel!"
+
+"How dare you use that tone to me? Have you any right to tell me what I
+shall and shall not do?" she stormed at him. "I've got to talk to someone.
+You go about in one perpetual gloom. I purpose to see and talk to
+Cunningham as often as I please. At least he amuses me."
+
+With this she rushed past him and on to her cabin, the door of which she
+closed with such emphasis that it was heard all over the yacht--so sharp
+was the report that both Cleigh and Dodge awoke and sat up, half convinced
+that they had heard a pistol shot!
+
+Jane sat down on her bed, still furious. After a while she was able to
+understand something of this fury. The world was upside down, wrong end
+to. Dennison, not Cunningham, should have acted the debonair, the
+nonchalant. Before this adventure began he had been witty, amusing,
+companionable; now he was as interesting as a bump on a log. At table he
+was only a poor counterfeit of his father, whose silence was maintained
+admirably, at all times impressively dignified. Whereas at each encounter
+Dennison played directly into Cunningham's hands, and the latter was too
+much the banterer not to make the most of these episodes.
+
+What if he was worried? Hadn't she more cause to worry than any one else?
+For all that, she did not purpose to hide behind the barricaded door of
+her cabin. If there was a tragedy in the offing it would not fall less
+heavily because one approached it with melancholy countenance.
+
+Heaven knew that she was no infant as regarded men! In the six years of
+hospital work she had come into contact with all sorts and conditions of
+men. Cunningham might be the greatest scoundrel unhung, but so far as she
+was concerned she need have no fear. This knowledge was instinctive.
+
+But when her cheek touched the pillow she began to cry softly. She was so
+terribly lonely!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+The space through which Jane had passed held Dennison's gaze for two or
+three minutes. Then he sat down on the companionway step, his arms across
+his knees and his forehead upon his arms. What to say? What to do? She
+expected him to be amusing!--when he knew that the calm on board was of
+the same deceptive quality as that of the sea--below, the terror!
+
+It did not matter that the crew was of high average. They would not be
+playing such a game unless they were a reckless lot. At any moment they
+might take it into their heads to swarm over Cunningham and obliterate
+him. Then what? If the episode of the morning had not convinced Jane, what
+would? The man Flint had dropped his mask; the others were content to wear
+theirs yet awhile. Torture for her sake, the fear of what might actually
+be in store for her, and she expected him to talk and act like a chap out
+of a novel!
+
+Ordinarily so full of common sense, what had happened to her that her
+vision should become so obscured as not to recognize the danger of the
+man? Had he been ugly, Jane would probably have ignored him. But that face
+of his, as handsome as a Greek god's, and that tongue with its roots in
+oil! And there was his deformity--that had drawn her pity. Playing with
+her, and she deliberately walked into the trap because he was amusing! Why
+shouldn't he be, knowing that he held their lives in the hollow of his
+hand? What imp of Satan wouldn't have been amiable?
+
+Because the rogues did not run up the skull and crossbones; because they
+did not swagger up and down the deck, knives and pistols in their sashes,
+she couldn't be made to believe them criminals!
+
+Amusing! She could not see that if he spoke roughly it was only an
+expression of the smothered pain of his mental crucifixion. He could not
+tell her he loved her for fear she might misinterpret her own sentiments.
+Besides, her present mood was not inductive to any declaration on his
+part; a confession might serve only to widen the breach. Who could say
+that it wasn't Cunningham's game to take Jane along with him in the end?
+There was nothing to prevent that. His father holding aloof, the loyal
+members of the crew in a most certain negligible minority, what was there
+to prevent Cunningham from carrying off Jane?
+
+Blood surged into Dennison's throat; a murderous fury boiled up in him;
+but he remembered in time what these volcanic outbursts had cost him in
+the past. So he did not rush to the chart house. Cunningham would lash him
+with ridicule or be forced to shoot him. But his rage carried him as far
+as the wireless room. He could hear the smack of the spark, but that was
+all. He tried the door--locked. He tried the shutters--latched.
+Cunningham's man was either calling or answering somebody. Ten minutes
+inside that room and there would be another tale to tell.
+
+In the end Dennison spent his fury by travelling round the deck until the
+sea and sky became like pearly smoke. Then he dropped into a chair and
+fell asleep.
+
+Cunningham had also watched through the night. The silent steersman heard
+him frequently rustling papers on the chart table or clumping to the
+bridge or lolling on the port sills--a restlessness that had about it
+something of the captive tiger.
+
+Retrospection--he could not break the crowding spell of it, twist mentally
+as he would; and the counter-thought was dimly suicidal. The sea there; a
+few strides would carry him to the end of the bridge, and then--oblivion.
+And the girl would not permit him to enact this thought. He laughed. God
+had mocked him at his birth, and the devil had played with him ever
+since. He had often faced death hotly and hopefully, but to consider
+suicide coldly!
+
+A woman who had crossed his path reluctantly, without will of her own; the
+sort he had always ignored because they had been born for the peace of
+chimney corners! She--the thought of her--could bring the past crowding
+upon him and create in his mind a suicidal bent!
+
+Pearls! A great distaste of life fell upon him; the adventure grew flat.
+The zest that had been his ten days gone, where was it?
+
+Imagination! He had been cursed with too much of it. In his youth he had
+skulked through alleys and back streets--the fear of laughter and ridicule
+dogging his mixed heels. Never before to have paused to philosophize over
+what had caused his wasted life! Too much imagination! Mental strabismus!
+He had let his over-sensitive imagination wreck and ruin him. A woman's
+laughter had given him the viewpoint of a careless world; and he had fled,
+and he had gone on fleeing all these years from pillar to post. From a
+shadow!
+
+He was something of a monster. He saw now where the fault lay. He had
+never stayed long enough in any one place for people to get accustomed to
+him. His damnable imagination! And there was conceit of a sort. Probably
+nobody paid any attention to him after the initial shock and curiosity
+had died away. There was Scarron in his wheel chair--merry and cheerful
+and brave, jesting with misfortune; and men and women had loved him.
+
+A moral coward, and until this hour he had never sensed the truth! That
+was it! He had been a moral coward; he had tried to run away from fate;
+and here he was at last, in the blind alley the coward always found at the
+end of the run. He had never thought of anything but what he was--never of
+what he might have been. For having thrust him unfinished upon a
+thoughtless rather than a heartless world he had been trying to punish
+fate, and had punished only himself. A wastrel, a roisterer by night, a
+spendthrift, and a thief!
+
+What had she said?--reknead his soul so that it would fit his face? Too
+late!
+
+One staff to lean on, one only--he never broke his word. Why had he laid
+down for himself this law? What had inspired him to hold always to that?
+Was there a bit of gold somewhere in his grotesque make-up? A straw on the
+water, and he clutched it! Why? Cunningham laughed again, and the
+steersman turned his head slightly.
+
+"Williams, do you believe in God?" asked Cunningham.
+
+"Well, sir, when I'm holding down the wheel--perhaps. The screw is always
+edging a ship off, and the lighter the ballast the wider the yaw. So you
+have to keep hitching her over a point to starboard. You trust to me to
+keep that point, and I trust to God that the north stays where it is."
+
+"And yet legally you're a pirate."
+
+"Oh, that? Well, a fellow ain't much of a pirate that plays the game we
+play. And yet----"
+
+"Ah! And yet?"
+
+"Well, sir, some of the boys are getting restless. And I'll be mighty glad
+when we raise that old Dutch bucket of yours. They ain't bad, understand;
+just young and heady and wanting a little fun. They growl a lot because
+they can't sleep on deck. They growl because there's nothing to drink. Of
+course it might hurt Cleigh's feelings, but I'd like to see all his grog
+go by the board. You see, sir, it ain't as if we'd just dropped down from
+Shanghai. It's been tarnation dull ever since we left San Francisco."
+
+"Once on the other boat, they can make a night of it if they want to. But
+I've given my word on the _Wanderer_."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And it's final."
+
+Cunningham returned to his chart. All these cogitations because a woman
+had entered his life uninvited! Ten days ago he had not been aware of her
+existence; and from now on she would be always recurring in his thoughts.
+
+She was not conscious of it, but she was as a wild thing that had been
+born in captivity, and she was tasting the freedom of space again without
+knowing what the matter was. But it is the law that all wild things born
+in captivity lose everything but the echo; a little freedom, a flash of
+what might have been, and they are ready to return to the cage. So it
+would be with her.
+
+Supposing--no, he would let her return to her cage. He wondered--had he
+made his word a law simply to meet and conquer a situation such as this?
+Or was his hesitance due to the fear of her hate? That would be immediate
+and unabating. She was not the sort that would bend--she would break. No,
+he wasn't monster enough to play that sort of game. She should take back
+her little adventure to her cage, and in her old age it would become a
+pleasant souvenir.
+
+He rose and leaned on his arms against a port sill and stared at the stars
+until they began to fade, until the sea and the sky became like the pearls
+he would soon be seeking. A string of glass beads, bringing about all
+these events!
+
+At dawn he went down to the deck for a bit of exercise before he turned
+in. When he beheld Dennison sound asleep in the chair, his mouth slightly
+open, his bare feet standing out conspicuously on the foot rest, a
+bantering, mocking smile twisted the corners of Cunningham's lips.
+Noiselessly he settled himself in the adjacent chair, and cynically hoping
+that Dennison would be first to wake he fell asleep.
+
+The _Wanderer's_ deck toilet was begun and consummated between six and
+six-thirty, except in rainy weather. Hose, mops, and holystone, until the
+teak looked as if it had just left the Rangoon sawmills; then the brass,
+every knob and piping, every latch and hinge and port loop. The care given
+the yacht since leaving the Yang-tse might be well called ingratiating.
+Never was a crew more eager to enact each duty to the utmost--with mighty
+good reason.
+
+But when they came upon Dennison and Cunningham, asleep side by side, they
+drew round the spot, dumfounded. But their befuddlement was only a tithe
+of that which struck Cleigh an hour later. It was his habit to take a
+short constitutional before breakfast; and when he beheld the two, asleep
+in adjoining chairs, the fact suggesting that they had come to some
+friendly understanding, he stopped in his tracks, as they say, never more
+astonished in all his days.
+
+For as long as five minutes he remained motionless, the fine, rugged face
+of his son on one side and the amazing beauty of Cunningham's on the
+other. But in the morning light, in repose, Cunningham's face was tinged
+with age and sadness. There was, however, no grain of pity in Cleigh's
+heart. Cunningham had made his bed of horsehair; let him twist and writhe
+upon it.
+
+But the two of them together, sleeping as peacefully as babes! Dennison
+had one arm flung behind his head. It gave Cleigh a shock, for he
+recognized the posture. As a lad Dennison had slept that way. Cunningham's
+withered leg was folded under his sound one.
+
+What had happened? Cleigh shook his head; he could not make it out.
+Moreover, he could not wake either and demand the solution to the puzzle.
+He could not put his hand on his son's shoulder, and he would not put it
+on Cunningham's. Pride on one side and distaste on the other. But the two
+of them together!
+
+He got round the impasse by kicking out the foot rest of the third chair.
+Immediately Cunningham opened his eyes. First he turned to see if Dennison
+was still in his chair. Finding this to be the case, he grinned amiably at
+the father. Exactly the situation he would have prayed for had he believed
+in the efficacy of prayer.
+
+"Surprises you, eh? Looks as if he had signed on with the Great Adventure
+Company."
+
+His voice woke Dennison, who blinked in the sunshine for a moment, then
+looked about. He comprehended at once.
+
+With easy dignity he swung his bare feet to the deck and made for the
+companion; never a second glance at either his father or Cunningham.
+
+"Chip of the old block!" observed Cunningham. "You two! On my word, I
+never saw two bigger fools in all my time! What's it about? What the devil
+did he do--murder someone, rob the office safe, or marry Tottie Lightfoot?
+And Lord, how you both love me! And how much more you'll love me when I
+become the dear departed!"
+
+Cleigh, understanding that the situation was a creation of pure malice on
+Cunningham's part--Cleigh wheeled and resumed his tramp round the deck.
+
+Cunningham plowed his fingers through his hair, gripped and pulled it in a
+kind of ecstasy. Cleigh's phiz. The memory of it would keep him in good
+humour all day. After all, there was a lot of good sport in the world. The
+days were all right. It was only in the quiet vigils of the night that the
+uninvited thought intruded. On board the old Dutch tramp he would sleep
+o'nights, and the past would present only a dull edge.
+
+If the atoll had cocoanut palms, hang it, he would build a shack and make
+it his winter home! _Dolce far niente!_ Maybe he might take up the brush
+again and do a little amateur painting. Yes, in the daytime the old top
+wasn't so bad. He hoped he would have no more nonsense from Flint. A surly
+beggar, but a necessary pawn in the game.
+
+Pearls! Some to sell and some to play with. Lovely, tenderly beautiful
+pearls--a rope of them round Jane Norman's throat. He slid off the chair.
+As a fool, he hung in the same gallery as the Cleighs.
+
+Cleigh ate his breakfast alone. Upon inquiry he learned that Jane was
+indisposed and that Dennison had gone into the pantry and picked up his
+breakfast there. Cleigh found the day unspeakably dull. He read, played
+the phonograph, and tried all the solitaires he knew; but a hundred times
+he sensed the want of the pleasant voice of the girl in his ears.
+
+What would she be demanding of him as a reparation? He was always sifting
+this query about, now on this side, now on that, without getting anywhere.
+Not money. What then?
+
+That night both Jane and Dennison came in to dinner. Cleigh saw instantly
+that something was amiss. The boy's face was gloomy and his lips locked,
+and the girl's mouth was set and cheerless. Cleigh was fired by curiosity
+to ascertain the trouble, but here again was an impasse.
+
+"I'm sorry I spoke so roughly last night," said Dennison, unexpectedly.
+
+"And I am sorry that I answered you so sharply. But all this worry and
+fuss over me is getting on my nerves. You've written down Cunningham as a
+despicable rogue, when he is only an interesting one. If only you would
+give banter for banter, you might take some of the wind out of his sails.
+But instead you go about as if the next hour was to be our last!"
+
+"Who knows?"
+
+"There you go! In a minute we'll be digging up the hatchet again."
+
+But she softened the reproach by smiling. At this moment Cunningham came
+in briskly and cheerfully. He sat down, threw the napkin across his knees,
+and sent an ingratiating smile round the table.
+
+"Cleigh"--he was always talking to Cleigh, and apparently not minding in
+the least that he was totally ignored--"Cleigh, they are doing a good job
+in the Santa Maria delle Grazie, so I am told. Milan, of course. They are
+restoring Da Vinci's Cenacolo. What called it to mind is the fact that
+this is also the last supper. To-morrow at this hour you will be in
+possession and I'll be off for my pearls."
+
+The recipients of this remarkable news appeared petrified for a space.
+Cunningham enjoyed the astonishment.
+
+"Sounds almost too good to be true, doesn't it? Still, it's a fact."
+
+"That's tiptop news, Cunningham," said Dennison. "I hope when you go down
+the ladder you break your infernal neck. But the luck is on your side."
+
+"Let us hope that it stays there," replied Cunningham, unruffled. He
+turned to Cleigh again: "I say, we've always been bewailing that job of Da
+Vinci's. But the old boy was a seer. He knew that some day there would be
+American millionaires and that I'd become a force in art. So he put his
+subject on a plaster wall so I couldn't lug it off. A canvas the same
+size, I don't say; but the side of a church!"
+
+"A ship is going to pick you up to-morrow?" asked Jane.
+
+"Yes. The crew of the _Wanderer_ goes to the _Haarlem_ and the _Haarlem_
+crew transships to the _Wanderer_. You see, Cleigh, I'm one of those
+efficiency sharks. In this game I have left nothing to chance. Nothing
+except an act of God--as they say on the back of your steamer ticket--can
+derange my plans. Not the least bit of inconvenience to you beyond going
+out of your course for a few days. The new crew was signed on in
+Singapore--able seamen wanting to return to the States. Hired them in your
+name. Clever idea of me, eh?"
+
+"Very," said Cleigh, speaking directly to Cunningham for the first time
+since the act of piracy.
+
+"And this will give you enough coal to turn and make Manila, where you can
+rob the bunkers of one of your freighters. Now, then, early last winter in
+New York a company was formed, the most original company in all this rocky
+old world--the Great Adventure Company, of which I am president and
+general adviser. Pearls! Each member of the crew is a shareholder,
+undersigned at fifteen hundred shares, par value one dollar. These shares
+are redeemable October first in New York City if the company fails, or are
+convertible into pearls of equal value if we succeed. No widows and
+orphans need apply. Fair enough."
+
+"Fair enough, indeed," admitted Cleigh.
+
+Dennison stared at his father. He did not quite understand this
+willingness to hold converse with the rogue after all this rigorously
+maintained silence.
+
+"Of course the Great Adventure Company had to be financed," went on
+Cunningham with a deprecating gesture.
+
+"Naturally," assented Cleigh. "And that, I suppose, will be my job?"
+
+"Indirectly. You see, Eisenfeldt told me he had a client ready to pay
+eighty thousand for the rug, and that put the whole idea into my noodle."
+
+"Ah! Well, you will find the crates and frames and casings in the forward
+hold," said Cleigh in a tone which conveyed nothing of his thoughts. "It
+would be a pity to spoil the rug and the oils for the want of a little
+careful packing."
+
+Cunningham rose and bowed.
+
+"Cleigh, you are a thoroughbred!"
+
+Cleigh shook his head.
+
+"I'll have your hide, Cunningham, if it takes all I have and all I am!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+Cunningham sat down. "The spirit is willing, Cleigh, but the flesh is
+weak. You'll never get my hide. How will you go about it? Stop a moment
+and mull it over. How are you going to prove that I've borrowed the rug
+and the paintings? These are your choicest possessions. You have many at
+home worth more, but these things you love. Out of spite, will you inform
+the British, the French, the Italian governments that you had these
+objects and that I relieved you of them? In that event you'll have my
+hide, but you'll never set eyes upon the oils again except upon their
+lawful walls--the rug, never! On the other hand, there is every chance in
+the world of my returning them to you."
+
+"Your word?" interrupted Jane, ironically.
+
+So Cleigh was right? A quarter of a million in art treasures!
+
+"My word! I never before realized," continued Cunningham, "what a fine
+thing it is to possess something to stand on firmly--a moral plank."
+
+Dennison's laughter was sardonic.
+
+"Moral plank is good," was his comment.
+
+"Miss Norman," said Cunningham, maliciously, "I slept beside the captain
+this morning, and he snores outrageously." The rogue tilted his chin and
+the opal fire leaped into his eyes. "Do you want me to tell you all about
+the Great Adventure Company, or do you want me to shut up and merely
+proceed with the company's business without further ado? Why the devil
+should I care what you think of me? Still, I do care. I want you to get my
+point of view--a rollicking adventure, in which nobody loses anything and
+I have a great desire fulfilled. Hang it, it's a colossal joke, and in the
+end the laugh will be on nobody! Even Eisenfeldt will laugh," he added,
+enigmatically.
+
+"Do you intend to take the oils and the rug and later return them?"
+demanded Jane.
+
+"Absolutely! That's the whole story. Only Cleigh here will not believe it
+until the rug and oils are dumped on the door-step of his New York home. I
+needed money. Nobody would offer to finance a chart with a red cross on
+it. So I had to work it out in my own fashion. The moment Eisenfeldt sees
+these oils and the rug he becomes my financier, but he'll never put his
+claw on them except for one thing--that act of God they mention on the
+back of your ticket. Some raider may have poked into this lagoon of mine.
+In that case Eisenfeldt wins."
+
+Cleigh smiled.
+
+"A pretty case, Cunningham, but it won't hold water. It is inevitable that
+Eisenfeldt gets the rug and the paintings, and you are made comfortable
+for the rest of your days. A shabby business, and you shall rue it."
+
+"My word?"
+
+"I don't believe in it any longer," returned Cleigh.
+
+Cunningham appealed to Jane.
+
+"Give me the whole story, then I'll tell you what I believe," she said.
+"You may be telling the truth."
+
+What a queer idea--wanting his word believed! Why should it matter to him
+whether they believed in the honour of his word or not, when he held the
+whip hand and could act as he pleased? The poor thing! And as that phrase
+was uttered in thought, the glamour of him was dissipated; she saw
+Cunningham as he was, a poor benighted thing, half boy, half demon, a
+thing desperately running away from his hurt and lashing out at friends
+and enemies alike on the way.
+
+"Tell your story--all of it."
+
+Cunningham began:
+
+"About a year ago the best friend I had--perhaps the only friend I
+had--died. He left me his chart and papers. The atoll is known, but
+uncharted, because it is far outside the routes. I have no actual proofs
+that there will be shell in the lagoon; I have only my friend's word--the
+word of a man as honest as sunshine. Where this shell lies there is never
+any law. Some pearl thiever may have fallen upon the shell since my friend
+discovered it."
+
+"In that case," said Cleigh, "I lose?"
+
+"Frankly, yes! All financial ventures are attended by certain risks."
+
+"Money? Why didn't you come to me for that?"
+
+"What! To you?"
+
+Cunningham's astonishment was perfect.
+
+"Yes. There was a time when I would have staked a good deal on your
+word."
+
+Cunningham rested his elbows on the table and clutched his hair--a
+despairing gesture.
+
+"No use! I can't get it to you! I can't make you people understand! It
+isn't the pearls, it's the game; it's all the things that go toward the
+pearls. I want to put over a game no man ever played before."
+
+Jane began to find herself again drawn toward him, but no longer with the
+feeling of unsettled mystery. She knew now why he drew her. He was the
+male of the species to which she belonged--the out-trailer, the hater of
+humdrum, of dull orbits and of routine. The thrilling years he had
+spent--business! This was the adventure of which he had always dreamed,
+and since it would never arrive as a sequence, he had proceeded to
+dramatize it! He was Tom Sawyer grown up; and for a raft on the
+Mississippi substitute a seagoing yacht. There was then in this
+matter-of-fact world such a man, and he sat across the table from her!
+
+"Supposing I had come to you and you had advanced the money?" said
+Cunningham, earnestly. "All cut and dried, not a thrill, not a laugh,
+nothing but the pearls! I have never had a boyhood dream realized but,
+hang it, I'm going to realize this one!" He struck the table violently.
+"Set the British after me, and you'll never see this stuff again. You'll
+learn whether my word is worth anything or not. Lay off for eight months,
+and if your treasures are not yours again within that time you won't have
+to chase me. I'll come to you and have the tooth pulled without gas."
+
+Dennison's eyes softened a little. Neither had he realized any of his
+boyhood dreams. For all that, the fellow was as mad as a hatter.
+
+"Of course I'm a colossal ass, and half the fun is knowing that I am." The
+banter returned to Cunningham's tongue. "But this thing will go
+through--I feel it. I will have had my fun, and you will have loaned your
+treasures to me for eight months, and Eisenfeldt will have his principal
+back without interest. The treasures go directly to a bank vault. There
+will be two receipts, one dated September--mine; and one dated
+November--Eisenfeldt's. I hate Eisenfeldt. He's tricky; his word isn't
+worth a puff of smoke; he's ready at all times to play both ends from the
+middle. I want to pay him out for crossing my path in several affairs.
+He's betting that I will find no pearls. So to-morrow I will exhibit the
+rug and the Da Vinci to convince him, and he will advance the cash. Can't
+you see the sport of it?"
+
+"That would make very good reading," said Cleigh, scraping the shell of
+his avocado pear. "I can get you on piracy."
+
+"Prove it! You can say I stole the yacht, but you can't prove it. The crew
+is yours; you hired it. The yacht returns to you to-morrow without a
+scratch on her paint. And the new crew will know absolutely nothing, being
+as innocent as newborn babes. Cleigh, you're no fool. What earthly chance
+have you got? You love that rug. You're not going to risk losing it
+positively, merely to satisfy a thirst for vengeance. You're human. You'll
+rave and storm about for a few days, then you'll accept the game as it
+lies. Think of all the excitement you'll have when a telegram arrives or
+the phone rings! I told you it was a whale of a joke; and in late October
+you'll chuckle. I know you, Cleigh. Down under all that tungsten there is
+the place of laughter. It will be better to laugh by yourself than to have
+the world laugh at you. Hoist by his own petard! There isn't a newspaper
+syndicate on earth that wouldn't give me a fortune for just the yarn. Now,
+I don't want the world to laugh at you, Cleigh."
+
+"Considerate of you."
+
+"Because I know what that sort of laughter is. Could you pick up the old
+life, the clubs? Could a strong man like you exist in an atmosphere of
+suppressed chuckles? Mull it over. If these treasures were honourably
+yours I'd never have thought of touching them. But you haven't any more
+right to them than I have, or Eisenfeldt."
+
+Dennison leaned back in his chair. He began to laugh.
+
+"Cunningham, my apologies," he said. "I thought you were a scoundrel, and
+you are only a fool--the same brand as I! I've been aching to wring your
+neck, but that would have been a pity. For eight months life will be full
+of interest for me--like waiting for the end of a story in the magazines."
+
+"But there is one thing missing out of the tale," Jane interposed.
+
+"And what is that?" asked Cunningham.
+
+"Those beads."
+
+"Oh, those beads! They belonged to an empress of France, and the French
+Government is offering sixty thousand for their return. Napoleonic. And
+now will you answer a question of mine? Where have you hidden them?"
+
+Jane did not answer, but rose and left the dining salon. Silence fell upon
+the men until she returned. In her hand she held Ling Foo's brass hand
+warmer. She set it on the table and pried back the jigsawed lid. From the
+heap of punk and charcoal ashes she rescued the beads and laid them on the
+cloth.
+
+"Very clever. They are yours," said Cunningham.
+
+"Mine?"
+
+"Why not? Findings is keepings. They are as much yours as mine."
+
+Jane pushed the string toward Cleigh.
+
+"For me?" he said.
+
+"Yes--for nothing."
+
+"There is sixty thousand dollars in gold in my safe. When we land in San
+Francisco I will turn over the money to you. You have every right in the
+world to it."
+
+Cleigh blew the ash from the glass beads and circled them in his palm.
+
+"I repeat," she said, "they are yours."
+
+Cunningham stood up.
+
+"Well, what's it to be?"
+
+"I have decided to reserve my decision," answered Cleigh, dryly. "To hang
+you 'twixt wind and water will add to the thrill, for evidently that's
+what you're after."
+
+"If it's on your own you'll only be wasting coal."
+
+Cleigh toyed with the beads.
+
+"The _Haarlem_. Maybe I can save you a lot of trouble," said Cunningham.
+"The name is only on her freeboard and stern, not on her master's ticket.
+The moment we are hull down the old name goes back." Cunningham turned to
+Jane. "Do you believe I've put my cards on the table?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And that if I humanly can I'll keep my word?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That's worth many pearls of price!"
+
+"Supposing," said Cleigh, trickling the beads from palm to
+palm--"supposing I offered you the equivalent in cash?"
+
+"No, Eisenfeldt has my word."
+
+"You refuse?" Plainly Cleigh was jarred out of his calm. "You refuse?"
+
+"I've already explained," said Cunningham, wearily. "I've told you that I
+like sharp knives to play with. If you handle them carelessly you're cut.
+How about you?" Cunningham addressed the question to Dennison.
+
+"Oh, I'm neutral and interested. I've always had a sneaking admiration for
+a tomfool. They were Shakespeare's best characters. Consider me neutral."
+
+Cleigh rose abruptly and stalked from the salon.
+
+Cunningham lurched and twisted to the forward passage and disappeared.
+
+When next Jane saw him in the light he was bloody and terrible.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+Jane and Dennison were alone. "I wonder," he said, "are we two awake, or
+are we having the same nightmare?"
+
+"The way he hugs his word! Imagine a man stepping boldly and mockingly
+outside the pale, and carrying along his word unsullied with him! He's
+mad, Denny, absolutely mad! The poor thing!"
+
+That phrase seemed to liberate something in his mind. The brooding
+oppression lifted its siege. His heart was no longer a torture chamber.
+
+"I ought to be his partner, Jane. I'm as big a fool as he is. Who but a
+fool would plan and execute a game such as this? But he's sound on one
+point. It's a colossal joke."
+
+"But your father?"
+
+"Cunningham will have to dig a pretty deep hole somewhere if he expects to
+hide successfully. It's a hundred-to-one shot that father will never see
+his rug again. He probably realizes that, and he will be relentless. He'll
+coal at Manila and turn back. He'll double or triple the new crew's wages.
+Money will mean nothing if he starts after Cunningham. Of course I'll be
+out of the picture at Manila."
+
+"Do you know why your father kidnaped me so easily? I thought maybe I
+could find a chink in his armour and bring you two together."
+
+"And you've found the job hopeless!" Dennison shrugged.
+
+"Won't you tell me what the cause was?"
+
+"Ask him. He'll tell it better than I can. So you hid the beads in that
+hand-warmer! Not half bad. But why don't you take the sixty thousand?"
+
+"I've an old-fashioned conscience."
+
+"I don't mean Father's gold, but the French Government's. Comfort as long
+as you lived."
+
+"No, I could not touch even that money. The beads were stolen."
+
+"Lord, Lord! Then there are three of us--Cunningham, myself, and you!"
+
+"Are you calling me a tomfool?"
+
+"Not exactly. What's the feminine?"
+
+She laughed and rose.
+
+"You are almost human to-night."
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"I'm going to have a little talk with your father."
+
+"Good luck. I'm going to have a fresh pot of coffee. I shall want to keep
+awake to-night."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, just an idea. You'd better turn in when the interview is over. Good
+luck."
+
+Jane stood framed in the doorway for a moment. Under the reading lamp in
+the main salon she saw Cleigh. He was running the beads from hand to hand
+and staring into space. Behind her she heard Dennison's spoon clatter in
+the cup as he stirred the coffee.
+
+Wild horses! She felt as though she were being pulled two ways by wild
+horses! For she was about to demand of Anthony Cleigh the promised
+reparation. And which of two things should she demand? All this time,
+since Cleigh had uttered the promise, she had had but one thought--to
+bring father and son together, to do away with this foolish estrangement.
+For there did not seem to be on earth any crime that merited such a
+condition. If he humanly could--he had modified the promise with that.
+What was more human than to forgive--a father to forgive a son?
+
+And now Cunningham had to wedge in compellingly! She could hesitate
+between Denny and Cunningham! The rank disloyalty of it shocked her. To
+give Cunningham his eight months! Pity, urgent pity for the broken body
+and tortured soul of the man--mothering pity! Denny was whole and sound,
+mentally and physically; he would never know any real mental torture,
+anything that compared with Cunningham's, which was enduring, now waxing,
+now waning, but always sensible. To secure for him his eight months,
+without let or hindrance from the full enmity of Cleigh; to give him his
+boyhood dream, whether he found his pearls or not. Her throat became
+stuffed with the presage of tears. The poor thing!
+
+But Denny, parting from his father at Manila, the cleavage wider than
+ever, beyond hope! Oh, she could not tolerate the thought of that! These
+two, so full of strong and bitter pride--they would never meet again if
+they separated now. Perhaps fate had assigned the rôle of peacemaker to
+her, and she had this weapon in her hand to enforce it or bring it
+about--the father's solemn promise to grant whatever she might ask. And
+she could dodder between Denny and Cunningham!
+
+To demand both conditions would probably appeal to Cleigh as not humanly
+possible. One or the other, but not the two together.
+
+An interval of several minutes of which she had no clear recollection, and
+then she was conscious that she was reclining in her chair on deck,
+staring at the stars which appeared jerkily and queerly shaped--through
+tears. She hadn't had the courage to make a decision. As if it became any
+easier to solve by putting it over until to-morrow!
+
+Chance--the Blind Madonna of the Pagan--was preparing to solve the riddle
+for her--with a thunderbolt!
+
+The mental struggle had exhausted Jane somewhat, and she fell into a doze.
+When she woke she was startled to see by her wrist watch that it was after
+eleven. The yacht was plowing along through the velvet blackness of the
+night. The inclination to sleep gone, Jane decided to walk the deck until
+she was as bodily tired as she was mentally. All the hidden terror was
+gone. To-morrow these absurd pirates would be on their way.
+
+Study the situation as she might, she could discover no flaw in this
+whimsical madman's plans. He held the crew in his palm, even as he held
+Cleigh--by covetousness. Cleigh would never dare send the British after
+Cunningham; and the crew would obey him to the letter because that meant
+safety and recompense. The Great Adventure Company! Only by an act of God!
+And what could possibly happen between now and the arrival of the
+_Haarlem_?
+
+Cleigh had evidently turned in, for through the transoms she saw that the
+salon lights were out. She circled the deck house six times, then went up
+to the bow and stared down the cutwater at the phosphorescence. Blue
+fire! The eternal marvel of the sea!
+
+A hand fell upon her shoulder. She thought it would be Denny's. It was
+Flint's!
+
+"Be a good sport, an' give us a kiss!"
+
+She drew back, but he caught her arm. His breath was foul with tobacco and
+whisky.
+
+"All right, I'll take it!"
+
+With her free hand she struck him in the face. It was a sound blow, for
+Jane was no weakling. That should have warned Flint that a struggle would
+not be worth while. But where's the drunken man with caution? The blow
+stung Flint equally in flesh and spirit. He would kiss this woman if it
+was the last thing he ever did!
+
+Jane fought him savagely, never thinking to call to the bridge. Twice she
+escaped, but each time the fool managed to grasp either her waist or her
+skirt. Then out of nowhere came the voice of Cunningham:
+
+"Flint!"
+
+Dishevelled and breathless, Jane found herself free. She stumbled to the
+rail and rested there for a moment. Dimly she could see the two men
+enacting a weird shadow dance. Then it came to her that Cunningham would
+not be strong enough to vanquish Flint, so she ran aft to rouse Denny.
+
+As she went down the companionway, her knees threatening to give way, she
+heard voices, blows, crashings against the partitions. Instinct told her
+to seek her cabin and barricade the door; curiosity drove her through the
+two darkened salons to the forward passage. Only a single lamp was on, but
+that was enough. Anthony Cleigh's iron-gray head towering above a
+whirlwind of fists and forearms!
+
+What had happened? This couldn't be real! She was still in her chair on
+deck, and what she saw was nightmare! Out of the calm, all in a moment,
+this! Where was Denny, if this picture wasn't nightmare? Cunningham above,
+struggling with the whisky-maddened Flint--Cleigh fighting in the passage!
+Dear God, what had happened?
+
+Where was Denny? The question let loose in her heart and mind all that was
+emotional, at the same time enchaining her to the spot where she stood.
+Denny! Why, she loved Denny! And she had not known it consciously until
+this moment. Because some presciential instinct warned her that Denny was
+either dead or badly hurt!
+
+The narrowness of the passage gave Cleigh one advantage--none of the men
+could get behind him. Sometimes he surged forward a little, sometimes he
+stepped back, but never back of the line he had set for himself. By and by
+Jane forced her gaze to the deck to see what it was that held him like a
+rock. What she saw was only the actual of what she had already
+envisaged--Denny, either dead or badly hurt!
+
+What had happened was this: Six of the crew, those spirits who had
+succumbed to the secret domination of the man Flint--the drinkers--had
+decided to celebrate the last night on the _Wanderer_. Their argument was
+that old man Cleigh wouldn't miss a few bottles, and that it would be a
+long time between drinks when they returned to the States; and never might
+they again have so easy a chance to taste the juice of the champagne
+grape. Where was the harm? Hadn't they behaved like little Fauntleroys for
+weeks? They did not want any trouble--just half a dozen bottles, and back
+to the forepeak to empty them. That wouldn't kill the old man. They
+wouldn't even have to force the door of the dry-stores; they had already
+learned that they could tickle the lock out of commission by the use of a
+bent wire. Young, restless, and mischievous--none of them bad. A bit of
+laughter and a few bars of song--that was all they wanted. No doubt the
+affair would have blown itself out harmlessly but for the fact that Chance
+had other ideas. She has a way with her, this Pagan Madonna, of taking off
+the cheerful motley of a jest and substituting the Phrygian cap of terror,
+subitaneously.
+
+Dennison had lain down on the lounge in the main salon. Restless, unhappy,
+bitter toward his father, he had lain there counting the throbs of the
+engine to that point where they mysteriously cease to register and one has
+to wait a minute or two to pick up the throb again.
+
+For years he had lived more or less in the open, which attunes the human
+ear to sounds that generally pass unnoticed. All at once he was sure that
+he had heard the tinkle of glass, but he waited. The tinkle was repeated.
+Instinct led him at once to the forward passage, and one glance down this
+was sufficient. From the thought of a drunken orgy--the thing he had been
+fearing since the beginning of this mad voyage--his thought leaped to
+Jane. Thus his subsequent acts were indirectly in her defense.
+
+"What the devil are you up to there?" he called.
+
+The unexpectedness of the challenge disconcerted the men. They had enough
+loot. A quick retreat, and Dennison would have had nothing to do but close
+the dry-stores door. But middle twenties are belligerent rather than
+discreet.
+
+"What you got to say about it?" jeered one of the men, shifting his brace
+of bottles to the arms of another and squaring off.
+
+Dennison rushed them, and the mêlée began. It was a strenuous affair
+while it lasted. When a strong man is full of anger and bitter
+disappointment, when six young fellows are bored to distraction, nothing
+is quite so satisfying as an exchange of fisticuffs. Dennison had the
+advantage of being able to hit right and left, at random, while his
+opponents were not always sure that a blow landed where it was directed.
+
+Naturally the racket drew Cleigh to the scene, and he arrived in time to
+see a champagne bottle descend upon the head of his son. Dennison went
+down.
+
+Cleigh, boiling with impotent fury, had gone to bed, not to sleep but to
+plan; some way round the rogue, to trip him and regain the treasures that
+meant so much to him. Like father, like son. When he saw what was going on
+in the passage he saw also that here was something that linked up with his
+mood. Of course it was to defend the son; but without the bitter rage and
+the need of physical expression he would have gone for the hidden revolver
+and settled the affair with that. Instead he flew at the men with the
+savageness of a gray wolf. He was a tower of a man, for all his sixty
+years; and he had mauled three of the crew severely before Cunningham
+arrived.
+
+Why had the mutinous six offered battle? Why hadn't they retreated with
+good sense at the start? Originally all they had wanted was the wine. Why
+stop to fight when the wine was theirs? In the morning none of them could
+answer these questions. Was there ever a rough-and-tumble that anybody
+could explain lucidly the morning after? Perhaps it was the false pride of
+youth; the bitter distaste at the thought of six turning tail for one.
+
+Cunningham fired a shot at the ceiling, and a dozen of the crew came
+piling in from the forward end of the passage. The fighting stopped
+magically.
+
+"You fools!" cried Cunningham in a high, cracked voice. "To put our heads
+into hemp at the last moment. If anything happens to young Cleigh, back to
+Manila you go with the yacht! Clear out! At the last moment!" It was like
+a sob.
+
+Jane, still entranced, saw Cleigh stoop and put his arms under the body of
+his son, heave, and stand up under the dead weight. He staggered past her
+toward the main salon. She heard him mutter.
+
+"God help me if I'm too late--if I've waited too long! Denny?"
+
+That galvanized her into action, and she flew to the light buttons,
+flooding both the dining and the main salons. She helped Cleigh to place
+Dennison on the lounge. After that it was her affair. Dennison was alive,
+but how much alive could be told only by the hours. She bathed and
+bandaged his head. Beyond that she could do nothing but watch and wait.
+
+"I wouldn't mind--a little of that--water," said Cunningham, weakly.
+
+Cleigh, with menacing fists, wheeled upon him; but he did not strike the
+man who was basically the cause of Denny's injuries. At the same time
+Jane, looking up across Dennison's body, uttered a gasp of horror. The
+entire left side of Cunningham was drenched in blood, and the arm
+dangled.
+
+"Flint had a knife--and--was quite handy with it."
+
+"For me!" she cried. "For defending me! Mr. Cleigh, Flint caught me on
+deck--and Mr. Cunningham--oh, this is horrible!"
+
+"You were right, Cleigh. The best-laid plans of mice and men! What an ass
+I am! I honestly thought I could play a game like this without hurt to
+anybody. It was to be a whale of a joke. Flint----"
+
+Cunningham reached blindly for the nearest chair and collapsed in it.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+An hour later. The four of them were still in the main salon. Jane sat at
+the head of the lounge, and from time to time she took Dennison's pulse
+and temperature. She had finally deduced that there had been no serious
+concussion. Cleigh sat at the foot of the lounge, his head on his hands.
+Cunningham occupied the chair into which he had collapsed. Three ugly
+flesh wounds, but nothing a little time would not heal. True, he had had a
+narrow squeak. He sat with his eyes closed.
+
+"Why?" asked Jane suddenly, breaking the silence.
+
+"What?" said Cleigh, looking up.
+
+"Why these seven years--if you cared? I heard you say something about
+being too late. Why?"
+
+"I'm a queer old fool. An idea, when it enters my head, sticks. I can't
+shift my plans easily; I have to go through. What you have witnessed these
+several days gives you the impression that I have no heart. That isn't
+true. But we Cleighs are pigheaded. Until he was sent to Russia he was
+never from under the shadow of my hand. My agents kept me informed of all
+his moves, his adventures. The mistake was originally mine. I put him in
+charge of an old scholar who taught him art, music, languages, but little
+or nothing about human beings. I gave him a liberal allowance; but he was
+a queer lad, and Broadway never heard of him. Now I hold that youth must
+have its fling in some manner or other; after thirty there is no cure for
+folly. So when he ran away I let him go; but he never got so far away that
+I did not know what he was doing. I liked the way he rejected the cash I
+gave him; the way he scorned to trade upon the name. He went clean. Why? I
+don't know. Oh, yes, he got hilariously drunk once in a while, but he had
+his fling in clean places. I had agents watching him."
+
+"Why did he run away?" asked Jane.
+
+"No man can tell another man; a man has to find it out for himself--the
+difference between a good woman and a bad one."
+
+"I play that statement to win," interposed Cunningham without opening his
+eyes.
+
+"There was a woman?" said Jane.
+
+"A bad one. Pretty and clever as sin. My fault. I should have sent him to
+college where he'd have got at least a glimmer of life. But I kept him
+under the tutor until the thing happened. He thought he was in love, when
+it was only his first woman. She wanted his money--or, more properly
+speaking, mine. I had her investigated and found that she was bad all
+through. When I told him boldly what she was he called me a liar. I struck
+him across the mouth, and he promptly knocked me down."
+
+"Pretty good punch for a youngster," was Cunningham's comment.
+
+"It was," replied Cleigh, grimly. "He went directly to his room, packed,
+and cleared out. In that he acted wisely, for at that moment I would have
+cast him out had he come with an apology. But the following day I could
+not find him; nor did I get track of him until weeks later. He had married
+the woman and then found her out. That's all cleared off the slate,
+though. She's been married and divorced three times since then."
+
+"Did you expect to see him over here?"
+
+"In Shanghai? No. The sight of him rather knocked me about. You
+understand? It was his place to make the first sign. He was in the wrong,
+and he has known it all these seven years."
+
+"No," said Jane, "it was your place to make the first advance. If you had
+been a comrade to him in his boyhood he would never have been in the
+wrong."
+
+"But I gave him everything!"
+
+"Everything but love. Did you ever tell him a fairy story?"
+
+"A fairy story!" Cleigh's face was the essence of bewilderment.
+
+"You put him in the care of a lovable old dreamer, and then expected him
+to accept life as you knew it."
+
+Cleigh rumpled his cowlicks. A fairy story? But that was nonsense! Fairy
+stories had long since gone out of fashion.
+
+"When I saw you two together an idea popped into my head. But do you care
+for the boy?"
+
+"I care everything for him--or I shouldn't be here!"
+
+Cunningham relaxed a little more in his chair, his eyes still closed.
+
+"What do you mean by that?" demanded Cleigh.
+
+"I let you abduct me. I thought, maybe, if I were near you for a little I
+might bring you two together."
+
+"Well, now!" said Cleigh, falling into the old New England vernacular
+which was his birthright. "I brought you on board merely to lure him after
+you. I wanted you both on board so I could observe you. I intended to
+carry you both off on a cruise. I watched you from the door that night
+while you two were dining. I saw by his face and his gestures that he
+would follow you anywhere."
+
+"But I--I am only a professional nurse. I'm nobody! I haven't anything!"
+
+"Good Lord, will you listen to that?" cried the pirate, with a touch of
+his old banter. "Nobody and nothing?"
+
+Neither Jane nor Cleigh apparently heard this interpolation.
+
+"Why did you maltreat him?"
+
+"Otherwise he would have thought I was offering my hand, that I had
+weakened."
+
+"And you expected him to fall on your shoulder and ask your pardon after
+that? Mr. Cleigh, for a man of your intellectual attainments, your stand
+is the biggest piece of stupidity I ever heard of! How in the world was he
+to know what your thoughts were?"
+
+"I was giving him his chance," declared Cleigh, stubbornly.
+
+"A yacht? It's a madhouse," gibed Cunningham. "And this is a convention of
+fools!"
+
+"How do you want me to act?" asked Cleigh, surrendering absolutely.
+
+"When he comes to, take his hand. You don't have to say anything else."
+
+"All right."
+
+From Dennison's lips came a deep, long sigh. Jane leaned over.
+
+"Denny?" she whispered.
+
+The lids of Dennison's eyes rolled back heavily.
+
+"Jane--all right?" he asked, quickly.
+
+"Yes. How do you feel?"
+
+He reached out a hand whence her voice came. She met the hand with hers,
+and that seemed to be all he wanted just then.
+
+"You'd better get your bathrobe, Mr. Cleigh," she suggested.
+
+Cleigh became conscious for the first time of the condition of his pyjama
+jacket. It hung upon his torso in mere ribbons. He became conscious also
+of the fact that his body ached variously and substantially.
+
+"Thirty-odd years since I was in a racket like this. I'm getting along."
+
+"And on the way," put in Cunningham, "you might call Cleve. I'd feel
+better--stretched out."
+
+"Oh, I had forgotten!" cried Jane, reproaching herself. Weakened as he
+was, and sitting in a chair!
+
+"And don't forget, Cleigh, that I'm master of the _Wanderer_ until I leave
+it. I sympathize deeply," Cunningham went on, ironically, "but I have some
+active troubles of my own."
+
+"And God send they abide with you always!" was Cleigh's retort.
+
+"They will--if that will give you any comfort. Do you know what? You will
+always have me to thank for this. That will be my comforting thought. The
+god in the car!"
+
+Later, when Cleve helped Cunningham into his bunk, the latter asked about
+the crew.
+
+"Scared stiff. They realize that it was a close shave. I've put the fools
+in irons. They're best there until we leave. But we can't do anything but
+forget the racket when we board the Dutchman. Where's that man Flint? We
+can't find him anywhere. He's at the bottom of it. I knew that sooner or
+later there'd be the devil to pay with a woman on board. Probably the
+fool's hiding in the bunkers. I'll give every rat hole a look-see. Pretty
+nearly got you."
+
+"Flint was out of luck--and so was I! I thought in pistols, and forgot
+that there might be a knife or two. I'll be on my feet in the morning.
+Little weak, that's all. Nobody and nothing!" said Cunningham, addressing
+the remark to the crossbeam above his head.
+
+"What's that?" asked Cleve.
+
+"I was thinking out loud. Get back to the chart house. Old Newton may play
+us some trick if he isn't watched. And don't bother to search for Flint. I
+know where he is."
+
+Something in Cunningham's tone coldly touched Cleve's spine. He went out,
+closing the door quietly; and there was reason for the sudden sweat in his
+palms.
+
+Chance! A wry smile stirred one corner of Cunningham's mouth. He had
+boasted that he had left nothing to chance, with this result! Burning up!
+Inward and outward fires! Love beads! Well, what were they if not that?
+But that she would trust him when everything about him should have
+repelled her! Was there a nugget of forgotten gold in his cosmos, and had
+she discovered it? She still trusted him, for he had sensed it in the
+quick but tender touch of her hands upon his throbbing wounds.
+
+To learn, after all these years, that he had been a coward! To have run
+away from misfortune instead of facing it and beating it down!
+
+Pearls! All he had left! And when he found them, what then? Turn them into
+money he no longer cared to spend? Or was this an interlude--a mocking
+interlude, and would to-morrow see his conscience relegated to the dustbin
+out of which it had so oddly emerged?
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Dennison opened his eyes again Jane was still holding his hand. Upon
+beholding his father Dennison held out his free hand.
+
+"Will you take it, Father? I'm sorry."
+
+"Of course I'll take it, Denny. I was an old fool."
+
+"And I was a young one."
+
+"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Cleigh asked, eagerly.
+
+"If it won't be too much trouble."
+
+"No trouble at all."
+
+A hand pressure, a few inconsequent phrases, that is always enough for two
+strong characters in the hour of reconciliation.
+
+Cleigh out of the way, Jane tried to disengage her hand, but Dennison only
+tightened his grip.
+
+"No"--a pause--"it's different now. The old boy will find some kind of a
+job for me. Will you marry me, Jane? I did not speak before, because I
+hadn't anything to offer."
+
+"No?"
+
+"I couldn't offer marriage until I had a job."
+
+"But supposing your father doesn't give you one?"
+
+"Why----"
+
+"You poor boy! I'm only fishing."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"Well, why do you want to marry me?"
+
+"Hang it, because I love you!"
+
+"Why didn't you tell me that in the first place? How was I to know unless
+you told me? But oh, Denny, I want to go home!" She laid her cheek against
+his hand. "I want a garden with a picket fence round it and all the simple
+flowers. I never want another adventure in all my days!"
+
+"Same here!"
+
+A stretch of silence.
+
+"What happened to me?"
+
+"Someone hit you with a wine bottle."
+
+"A vintage--and I never got a swallow!"
+
+"And then your father went to your defense."
+
+"The old boy? Honestly?"
+
+"He stood astride your body until Mr. Cunningham came in and stopped the
+mêlée."
+
+"Cunningham! They quit?"
+
+"Yes--Flint. I didn't dream it wouldn't be safe to go on deck, and Flint
+caught me. He was drunk. But for Cunningham, I don't know what would have
+happened. I ran and left them fighting, and Flint wounded Cunningham with
+a knife. It was for me, Denny. I feel so sorry for him! So alone, hating
+himself and hating the world, tortured with misunderstanding--good in him
+that he keeps smothering and trampling down. His unbroken word--to hang to
+that!"
+
+"All right. So far as I'm concerned, that cleans the slate."
+
+"I loved you, Denny, but I didn't know how much until I saw you on the
+floor. Do you know what I was going to demand of your father as a
+reparation for bringing me on board? His hand in yours. That was all I
+wanted."
+
+"Always thinking of someone else!"
+
+"That's all the happiness I've ever had, Denny--until now!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+A good deal of orderly commotion took place the following morning.
+Cunningham's crew, under the temporary leadership of Cleve, proceeded to
+make everything shipshape. There was no exuberance; they went at the
+business quietly and grimly. They sensed a shadow overhead. The revolt of
+the six discovered to the others what a rickety bridge they were crossing,
+how easily and swiftly a jest may become a tragedy.
+
+They had accepted the game as a kind of huge joke. Everything had been
+prepared against failure; it was all cut and dried; all they had to do was
+to believe themselves. For days they had gone about their various duties
+thinking only of the gay time that would fall to their lot when they left
+the _Wanderer_. The possibility that Cleigh would not proceed in the
+manner advanced by Cunningham's psychology never bothered them until now.
+Supposing the old man's desire for vengeance was stronger than his love
+for his art objects? He was a fighter; he had proved it last night.
+Supposing he put up a fight and called in the British to help him?
+
+Not one of them but knew what the penalty would be if pursued and caught.
+But Cunningham had persuaded them up to this hour that they would not even
+be pursued; that it would not be humanly possible for Cleigh to surrender
+the hope of eventually recovering his unlawful possessions. And now they
+began to wonder, to fret secretly, to reconsider the ancient saying that
+the way of the transgressor is hard.
+
+On land they could have separated and hidden successfully. Here at sea the
+wireless was an inescapable net. Their only hope was to carry on.
+Cunningham might pull them through. For, having his own hide to consider,
+he would bring to bear upon the adventure all his formidable ingenuity.
+
+At eleven the commotion subsided magically and the men vanished below, but
+at four-thirty they swarmed the port bow, silently if interestedly. If
+they talked at all it was in a whispering undertone.
+
+The mutinous revellers formed a group of their own. They appeared to have
+been roughly handled by the Cleighs. The attitude was humble, the
+expression worriedly sorrowful. Why hadn't they beat a retreat? The
+psychology of their madness escaped them utterly. There was one grain of
+luck--they hadn't killed young Cleigh. What fool had swung that bottle?
+Not one of them could recall.
+
+The engines of the _Wanderer_ stopped, and she rolled lazily in the
+billowing brass, waiting.
+
+Out of the blinding topaz of the sou'west nosed a black object, illusory.
+It appeared to ride neither wind nor water.
+
+From the bridge Cleigh eyed this object dourly, and with a swollen heart
+he glanced from time to time at the crates and casings stacked below. He
+knew that he would never set eyes upon any of these treasures again. When
+they were lowered over the side that would be the end of them. Cunningham
+might be telling the truth as to his intentions; but he was promising
+something that was not conceivably possible, any more than it was possible
+to play at piracy and not get hurt.
+
+At Cleigh's side stood the son, his head swathed in bandages. All day long
+he had been subjected to splitting headaches, and his face looked tired
+and drawn. He had stayed in bed until he had heard "Ship ahoy!"
+
+"Are you going to start something?" he asked.
+
+Cleigh did not answer, but peered through the glass again.
+
+"I don't see how you're going to land him without the British. On the
+other hand, you can't tell. Cunningham might bring the stuff back."
+
+Cleigh laughed, but still held the glass to his eye.
+
+"When and where are you going to get married?"
+
+"Manila. Jane wants to go home, and I want a job."
+
+Cleigh touched his split lips and his bruised cheekbone, for he had had to
+pay for his gallantry; and there was a spot in his small ribs that racked
+him whenever he breathed deeply.
+
+"What the devil do you want of a job?"
+
+"You're not thinking that I'm going back on an allowance? I've had
+independence for seven years, and I'm going to keep it, Father."
+
+"I've money enough"--brusquely.
+
+"That isn't it. I want to begin somewhere and build something for myself.
+You know as well as I do that if I went home on an allowance you'd begin
+right off to dominate me as you used to, and no man is going to do that
+again."
+
+"What can you do?"
+
+"That's the point--I don't know. I've got to find out."
+
+Cleigh lowered the glass.
+
+"Let's see; didn't you work on a sugar plantation somewhere?"
+
+"Yes. How'd you find that out?"
+
+"Never mind about that. I can give you a job, and it won't be soft,
+either. I've a sugar plantation in Hawaii that isn't paying the dividends
+it ought to. I'll turn the management over to you. You make good the
+second year, or back you come to me, domination and all."
+
+"I agree to that--if the plantation can be developed."
+
+"The stuff is there; all it needs is some pep."
+
+"All right, I'll take the job."
+
+"You and your wife shall spend the fall and winter with me. In February
+you can start to work."
+
+"Are you out for Cunningham's hide?"
+
+"What would you do in my place?"
+
+"Sit tight and wait."
+
+Cleigh laughed sardonically.
+
+"Because," went on Dennison, "he's played the game too shrewdly not to
+have other cards up his sleeve. He may find his pearls and return the
+loot."
+
+"Do you believe that? Don't talk like a fool! I tell you, his pearls are
+in those casings there! But, son, I'm glad to have you back. And you've
+found a proper mate."
+
+"Isn't she glorious?"
+
+"Better than that. She's the kind that'll always be fussing over you, and
+that's the kind a man needs. But mind your eye! Don't take it for granted!
+Make her want to fuss over you."
+
+When the oncoming tramp reached a point four hundred yards to the
+southwest of the yacht she slued round broadside. For a moment or two the
+reversed propeller--to keep the old tub from drifting--threw up a
+fountain; and before the sudsy eddies had subsided the longboat began a
+jerky descent. No time was going to be wasted evidently.
+
+The _Haarlem_--or whatever name was written on her ticket--was a picture.
+Even her shadows tried to desert her as she lifted and wallowed in the
+long, burnished rollers. There was something astonishingly impudent about
+her. She reminded Dennison of an old gin-sodden female derelict of the
+streets. There were red patches all over her, from stem to stern, where
+the last coat of waterproof black had blistered off. The brass of her
+ports were green. Her name should have been Neglect. She was probably full
+of smells; and Dennison was ready to wager that in a moderate sea her
+rivets and bedplates whined, and that the pump never rested.
+
+But it occurred to him that there must be some basis of fact in
+Cunningham's pearl atoll, and yonder owner was game enough to take a
+sporting chance; that, or he had been handsomely paid for his charter.
+
+An atoll in the Sulu Archipelago that had been overlooked--that was
+really the incredible part of it. Dennison had first-hand knowledge that
+there wasn't a rock in the whole archipelago that had not been looked over
+and under by the pearl hunters.
+
+He saw the tramp's longboat come staggering across the intervening water.
+Rag-tag and bob-tail of the Singapore docks, crimp fodder--that was what
+Dennison believed he had the right to expect. And behold! Except that they
+were older, the newcomers lined up about average with the departing--able
+seamen.
+
+The transshipping of the crews occupied about an hour. As the longboat's
+boat hook caught the _Wanderer's_ ladder for the third time the crates and
+casings were carried down and carefully deposited in the stern sheets.
+
+About this time Cunningham appeared. He paused by the rail for a minute
+and looked up at the Cleighs, father and son. He was pale, and his
+attitude suggested pain and weakness, but he was not too weak to send up
+his bantering smile. Cleigh, senior, gazed stonily forward, but Dennison
+answered the smile by soberly shaking his head. Dennison could not hear
+Cunningham's laugh, but he saw the expression of it.
+
+Cunningham put his hand on the rail in preparation for the first step,
+when Jane appeared with bandages, castile soap, the last of her stearate
+of zinc, absorbent cotton and a basin of water.
+
+"What's this--a clinic?" he asked.
+
+"You can't go aboard that awful-looking ship without letting me give you a
+fresh dressing," she declared.
+
+"Lord love you, angel of mercy, I'm all right!"
+
+"It was for me. Even now you are in pain. Please!"
+
+"Pain?" he repeated.
+
+For one more touch of her tender hands! To carry the thought of that
+through the long, hot night! Perhaps it was his ever-bubbling sense of
+malice that decided him--to let her minister to him, with the Cleighs on
+the bridge to watch and boil with indignation. He nodded, and she followed
+him to the hatch, where he sat down.
+
+Dennison saw his father's hands strain on the bridge rail, the presage of
+a gathering storm. He intervened by a rough seizure of Cleigh's arm.
+
+"Listen to me, Father! Not a word of reproach out of you when she comes
+up--God bless her! Anything in pain! It's her way, and I'll not have her
+reproached. God alone knows what the beggar saved her from last night! If
+you utter a word I'll cash that twenty thousand--it's mine now--and you'll
+never see either of us after Manila!"
+
+Cleigh gently disengaged his arm.
+
+"Sonny, you've got a man's voice under your shirt these days. All right.
+Run down and give the new crew the once-over, and see if they have a
+wireless man among them."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sunset--a scarlet horizon and an old-rose sea. For a little while longer
+the trio on the bridge could discern a diminishing black speck off to the
+southeast. The _Wanderer_ was boring along a point north of east, Manila
+way. The speck soon lost its blackness and became violet, and then
+magically the streaked horizon rose up behind the speck and obliterated
+it.
+
+"The poor benighted thing!" said Jane. "God didn't mean that he should be
+this kind of a man."
+
+"Does any of us know what God wants of us?" asked Cleigh, bitterly.
+
+"He wants men like you who pretend to the world that they're
+granite-hearted when they're not. Ever since we started, Denny, I've been
+trying to recall where I'd seen your father before; and it came a little
+while ago. I saw him only once--a broken child he'd brought to the
+hospital to be mended. I happened to be passing through the children's
+ward for some reason. He called himself Jones or Brown or Smith--I forget.
+But they told me afterward that he brought on an average of four children
+a month, and paid all expenses until they were ready to go forth, if not
+cured at least greatly bettered. He told the chief that if anybody ever
+followed him he would never come back. Your father's a hypocrite, Denny."
+
+"So that's where I saw you?" said Cleigh, ruminatively. He expanded a
+little. He wanted the respect and admiration of this young woman--his
+son's wife-to-be. "Don't weave any golden halo for me," he added, dryly.
+"After Denny packed up and hiked it came back rather hard that I hadn't
+paid much attention to his childhood. It was a kind of penance."
+
+"But you liked it!"
+
+"Maybe I only got used to it. Say, Denny, was there a wireless man in the
+crew?"
+
+"No. I knew there wouldn't be. But I can handle the key."
+
+"Fine! Come along then."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Do? Why, I'm going to have the Asiatic fleets on his heels inside of
+twenty-four hours! That's what I'm going to do! He's an unprincipled
+rogue!"
+
+"No," interposed Jane, "only a poor broken thing."
+
+"That's no fault of mine. But no man can play this sort of game with me,
+and show a clean pair of heels. The rug and the paintings are gone for
+good. I swore to him that I would have his hide, and have it I will! I
+never break my word."
+
+"Denny," said Jane, "for my sake you will not touch the wireless."
+
+"I'm giving the orders!" roared Cleigh.
+
+"Wait a moment!" said Jane. "You spoke of your word. That first night you
+promised me any reparation I should demand."
+
+"I made that promise. Well?"
+
+"Give him his eight months."
+
+She gestured toward the sea, toward the spot where they had last seen the
+_Haarlem_.
+
+"You demand that?"
+
+"No, I only ask it. I understand the workings of that twisted soul, and
+you don't. Let him have his queer dream--his boyhood adventure. Are you
+any better than he? Were those treasures honourably yours? Fie! No, I
+won't demand that you let him go; I'll only ask it. Because you will not
+deny to me what you gave to those little children--generosity."
+
+Cleigh did not speak.
+
+"I want to love you," she continued, "but I couldn't if there was no mercy
+in your sense of justice. Be merciful to that unhappy outcast, who
+probably never had any childhood, or if he had, a miserable one. Children
+are heartless; they don't know any better. They pointed the finger of
+ridicule and contempt at him--his playmates. Imagine starting life like
+that! And he told me that the first woman he loved--laughed in his face! I
+feel--I don't know why--that he was always without care, from his
+childhood up. He looked so forlorn! Eight months! We need never tell him.
+I'd rather he shouldn't know that I tried to intercede for him. But for
+him we three would not be here together, with understanding. I only ask
+it."
+
+Cleigh turned and went down the ladder. Twenty times he circled the deck;
+then he paused under the bridge and sent up a hail.
+
+"Dinner is ready!"
+
+The moment Jane reached the deck Cleigh put an arm round her.
+
+"No other human being could have done it. It is a cup of gall and
+wormwood, but I'll take it. Why? Because I am old and lonely and want a
+little love. I have no faith in Cunningham's word, but he shall go free."
+
+"How long since you kissed any one?" she asked.
+
+"Many years." And he stooped to her cheek. To press back the old brooding
+thought he said with cheerful brusqueness: "Suppose we celebrate? I'll
+have Togo ice a bottle of that vintage those infernal ruffians broke over
+your head last night."
+
+Dennison laughed.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+October.
+
+The Cleigh library was long and wide. There was a fine old blue Ispahan on
+the floor. The chairs were neither historical nor uncomfortable. One came
+in here to read. The library was on the second floor. When you reached
+this room you left the affairs of state and world behind.
+
+A wood fire crackled and shifted in the fireplace, the marble hood of
+which had been taken from a famous Italian palace. The irons stood ready
+as of yore for the cups of mulled wine. Before this fire sat a little old
+woman knitting. Her feet were on a hassock. From time to time her
+bird-like glance swept the thinker in the adjacent chair. She wondered
+what he could see in the fire there to hold his gaze so steadily. The
+little old lady had something of the attitude of a bird that had been
+given its liberty suddenly, and having always lived in a cage knew not
+what to make of all these vast spaces.
+
+She was Jane's mother, and sitting in the chair beside her was Anthony
+Cleigh.
+
+"There are said to be only five portable authentic paintings by Leonardo
+da Vinci," said Cleigh, "and I had one of them, Mother. Illegally,
+perhaps, but still I had it. It is a copy that hangs in the European
+gallery. There's a point. Gallery officials announce a theft only when
+some expert had discovered the substitution. There are a number of
+so-called Da Vincis, but those are the works of Boltraffio, Da Vinci's
+pupil. I'll always be wondering, even in my grave, where that crook,
+Eisenfeldt, had disposed of it."
+
+Mrs. Norman went on with her knitting. What she heard was as instructive
+and illuminating to her as Chinese would have been.
+
+From the far end of the room came piano music; gentle, dreamy, broken
+occasionally by some fine, thrilling chord. Dennison played well, but he
+had the habit of all amateurs of idling, of starting something, and
+running away into improvisations. Seated beside him on the bench was Jane,
+her head inclined against his shoulder. Perhaps that was a good reason why
+he began a composition and did not carry it through to its conclusion.
+
+"That was a trick of his mother's," said Cleigh, still addressing the
+fire. "All the fine things in him he got from her. I gave him his
+shoulders, but I guess that's about all."
+
+Mrs. Norman did not turn her head. She had already learned that she wasn't
+expected to reply unless Cleigh looked at her directly.
+
+"There's a high wind outside. More rain, probably. But that's October in
+these parts. You'll like it in Hawaii. Never any of this brand of weather.
+I may be able to put the yacht into commission."
+
+"The sea!" she said in a little frightened whisper.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Doorbells!" said Dennison with gentle mockery. "Jane, you're always
+starting up when you hear one. Still hanging on? It isn't Cunningham's
+willingness to fulfill his promise; it's his ability I doubt. A thousand
+and one things may upset his plans."
+
+"I know. But, win or lose, he was to let me know."
+
+"The poor devil! I never dared say so to Father, but when I learned that
+Cunningham meant no harm to you I began to boost for him. I like to see a
+man win against huge odds, and that's what he has been up against."
+
+"Denny, I've never asked before; I've been a little afraid to, but did you
+see Flint when the crew left?"
+
+"I honestly didn't notice; I was so interested in the disreputable old
+hooker that was to take them off."
+
+She sighed. Fragments of that night were always recurring in her dreams.
+
+The door opened and the ancient butler entered. His glance roved until it
+caught the little tuft of iron-gray hair that protruded above the rim of
+the chair by the fire. Noiselessly he crossed the room.
+
+"Beg pardon, sir," he said, "but a van arrived a few minutes ago with a
+number of packing cases. The men said they were for you, sir. The cases
+are in the lower hall. Any orders, sir?"
+
+Cleigh rose.
+
+"Cases? Benson, did you say--cases?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I fancy some paintings you've ordered, sir."
+
+Cleigh stood perfectly still. The butler eyed him with mild perturbation.
+Rarely he saw bewilderment on his master's countenance.
+
+"Cases?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Fourteen or fifteen of them, sir."
+
+Cleigh felt oddly numb. For days now he had denied to himself the reason
+for his agitation whenever the telephone or doorbell rang. Hope! It had
+not served to crush it down, to buffet it aside by ironical commentaries
+on the weakness of human nature; the thing was uncrushable, insistent.
+Packing cases!
+
+"Denny! Jane!" he cried, and bolted for the door.
+
+The call needed no interpretation. The two understood, and followed him
+downstairs precipitately, with the startled Benson the tail to the kite.
+
+"No, no!" shouted Cleigh. "The big one first!" as Dennison laid one of the
+smaller cases on the floor. "Benson, where the devil is the claw hammer?"
+
+The butler foraged in the coat closet and presently emerged with a prier.
+Cleigh literally snatched it from the astonished butler's grasp, pried and
+tore off a board. He dug away at the excelsior until he felt the cool
+glass under his fingers. He peered through this glass.
+
+"Denny, it's the rug!"
+
+Cleigh's voice cracked and broke into a queer treble note.
+
+Jane shook her head. Here was an incurable passion, based upon the
+specious argument that galleries and museums had neither consciences nor
+stomachs. You could not hurt a wall by robbing it of a painting--a passion
+that would abide with him until death. Not one of these treasures in the
+casings was honourably his, but they were more to him than all his
+legitimate possessions. To ask him to return the objects to the galleries
+and museums to which they belonged would be asking Cleigh to tear out his
+heart. Though the passion was incomprehensible, Jane readily observed its
+effects. She had sensed the misery, the anxiety, the stinging curiosity
+of all these months. Not to know exactly what had become of the rug and
+the paintings! Not to know if he would ever see them again! There was only
+one comparison she could bring to bear as an illustration: Cleigh was like
+a man whose mistress had forsaken him without explanations.
+
+She was at once happy and sad: happy that her faith in Cunningham had not
+been built upon sand, sad that she could not rouse Cleigh's conscience.
+Secretly a charitable man, honest in his financial dealings, he could
+keep--in hiding, mind you!--that which did not belong to him. It was
+beyond her understanding.
+
+An idea, which had been nebulous until this moment, sprang into being.
+
+"Father," she said, "you will do me a favour?"
+
+"What do you want--a million? Run and get my check book!" he cried,
+gayly.
+
+"The other day you spoke of making a new will."
+
+Cleigh stared at her.
+
+"Will you leave these objects to the legal owners?"
+
+Cleigh got up, brushing his knees.
+
+"After I am dead? I never thought of that. After I'm dead," he repeated.
+"Child, a conscience like yours is top-heavy. Still, I'll mull it over. I
+can't take 'em to the grave with me, that's a fact. But my ghost is bound
+to get leg-weary doing the rounds to view them again. What do you say,
+Denny?"
+
+"If you don't, I will!"
+
+Cleigh chuckled.
+
+"That makes it unanimous. I'll put it in the codicil. But while I live!
+Benson, what did these men look like? One of them limp?"
+
+"No, sir. Ordinary trucking men, I should say, sir."
+
+"The infernal scoundrel! No message?"
+
+"No, sir. The man who rang the bell said he had some cases for you, and
+asked where he should put them. I thought the hall the best place, sir,
+temporarily."
+
+"The infernal scoundrel!"
+
+"What the dickens is the matter with you, Father!" demanded Dennison.
+"You've got back the loot."
+
+"But how? The story, Denny! The rogue leaves me 'twixt wind and water as
+to how he got out of this hole."
+
+"Maybe he was afraid you still wanted his hide," suggested Jane, now
+immeasurably happy.
+
+"He did it!" said Cleigh, his sense of amazement awakening. "One chance in
+a thousand, and he caught that chance! But never to know how he did it!"
+
+"Aren't you glad now," said Jane, "that you let him go?"
+
+Cleigh chuckled.
+
+"There!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "Just as he said! He
+prophesied that some day you would chuckle over it. He found his pearls.
+He knew he would find them! The bell!" she broke off, startled.
+
+Never had Benson, the butler, witnessed such an exhibition of undignified
+haste. Cleigh, Jane, and Dennison, all three of them started for the door
+at once, jostling. What they found was only a bedraggled messenger boy,
+for it was now raining.
+
+"Mr. Cleigh," said the boy, grumpily, as he presented a letter and a small
+box. "No answer."
+
+"Where is the man who sent you?" asked Jane, tremendously excited.
+
+"De office pushed me on dis job, miss. Dey said maybe I'd git a good tip
+if I hustled."
+
+Dennison thrust a bill into the boy's hand and shunted him forth into the
+night again.
+
+The letter was marked Number One and addressed to Cleigh; the box was
+marked Number Two and addressed to Jane.
+
+Mad, thought Benson, as he began to gather up the loose excelsior; quite
+mad, the three of them.
+
+With Jane at one shoulder and Dennison at the other, Cleigh opened his
+letter. The first extraction was a chart. An atoll; here were groups of
+cocoanut palm, there of plantain; a rudely drawn hut. In the lagoon at a
+point east of north was a red star, and written alongside was a single
+word. But to the three it was an Odyssey--"Shell." In the lower left-hand
+corner of the chart were the exact degrees and minutes of longitude and
+latitude. With this chart a landlubber could have gone straight to the
+atoll.
+
+Next came the letter, which Cleigh did not read aloud--it was not
+necessary. With what variant emotions the three pairs of eyes leaped from
+word to word!
+
+  Friend Buccaneer: Of course I found the shell. That was the one issue
+  which offered no odds. The shell lay in its bed peculiarly under a
+  running ledge. The ordinary pearler would have discovered it only by
+  the greatest good luck. Atherton--my friend--discovered it, because
+  he was a sea naturalist, and was hunting for something altogether
+  different. Atherton was wealthy, and a coral reef was more to him
+  than a pearl. But he knew me and what such a game would mean. He was
+  in ill health and had to leave the South Pacific and fare north. This
+  atoll was his. It is now mine, pearls and all, legally mine. For a
+  trifling sum I could have chartered a schooner and sought the atoll.
+
+  But all my life I've hunted odds--big, tremendous odds--to crush down
+  and swarm over. The only interest I had in life. And so I planted the
+  crew and stole the _Wanderer_ because it presented whopping odds. I
+  selected a young and dare-devil crew to keep me on edge. From one day
+  to another I was always wondering when they would break over. I
+  refused to throw overboard the wines and liquors to make a good
+  measure.
+
+  And there was you. Would you sit tight under such an outrage, or
+  would your want of revenge ride you? Would you send the British
+  piling on top of me, or would you make it a private war? Suspense!
+  Dick Cunningham would not be hard to trace. Old Slue Foot. The
+  biggest odds I'd ever encountered. Nominally, I had about one chance
+  in a thousand of pulling through.
+
+  The presence of Mrs. Cleigh--of course she's Mrs. Cleigh by this
+  time!--added to the zest. To bring her through with nothing more than
+  a scare! Odds, odds! Cleigh, on my word, the pearls would have been
+  of no value without the game I built to go with them. Over the danger
+  route! Mad? Of course I'm mad!
+
+  Four-year-old shell, the pearls of the finest orient! The shell
+  alone--in buttons--would have recouped Eisenfeldt. He was ugly when
+  he saw that I had escaped him. Threatened to expose you. But knowing
+  Eisenfeldt for what he is, I had a little sword of Damocles suspended
+  over his thick neck. The thought of having lost eight months'
+  interest will follow him to Hades.
+
+  The crew gave me no more trouble. They've been paid their dividends
+  in the Great Adventure Company, and have gone seeking others. But
+  I'll warrant they'll take only regular berths in the future.
+
+  And now those beads. I'm sorry, but I'm also innocent. I have learned
+  that Morrissy really double-crossed us all. He had had a copy made in
+  Venice. The beads you have are forgeries. So the sixty thousand
+  offered by the French Government remains uncalled for. Who has the
+  originals I can't say. I'm sorry. Morrissy's game was risky. His idea
+  was to make a sudden breakaway with the beads--lose them in the
+  gutter--and trust to luck that we would just miss killing him, which
+  was the case.
+
+  Leaving to-night. Bought a sloop down there, and I'm going back there
+  to live. Tired of human beings. Tired of myself. Still, there's the
+  chart. Mull it over. Maybe it's an invitation. The lagoon is like
+  turquoise and the land like emerald and the sky a benediction.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+A spell of silence and immobility. Not a word about his battle with Flint,
+thought Jane. A little shiver ran over her. But what a queer, whimsical
+madman! To have planned it all so that he could experience a thrill! The
+tragic beauty of his face and the pitiable, sluing, lurching stride! She
+sighed audibly, so did the two men.
+
+"Denny, I don't know," said Cleigh.
+
+"I do!" said Dennison, anticipating his father's thought. "He's a man, and
+some day I'd like to clasp his hand."
+
+"Maybe we all shall," said Cleigh. "But open the box, Jane, and let's
+see."
+
+Between the layers of cotton wool she found a single pearl as large as a
+hazelnut, pink as the Oriental dawn. One side was slightly depressed, as
+though some mischievous, inquisitive mermaid had touched it in passing.
+
+"Oh, the lovely thing!" she gasped. "The lovely thing! But, Denny, I can't
+accept it!"
+
+"And how are you going to refuse it? Keep it. It is an emblem of what you
+are, honey. The poor devil!"
+
+And he put his arm round her. He understood. Why not? There are certain
+attractions which are irresistible, and Jane was unconscious of her
+possessions.
+
+Jane raised the bottom layer of cotton wool. What impulse led her to do
+this she could not say, but she found a slip of paper across which was
+written:
+
+                 "An' I learned about women from 'er."
+
+All this while, across the street, in the shadow of an areaway, stood a
+man in a mackintosh and a felt hat drawn well down. He had watched the van
+disgorge and roll away, the arrival and the departure of the messenger
+boy.
+
+He began to intone softly: "'Many waters cannot quench love, neither can
+the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his house
+for love, it would utterly be contemned.'"
+
+With a sluing lurch to his stride he started off down the street, into the
+lashing rain. A great joke; and now there was nothing at all to disturb
+his dreams--but the dim white face of Jabez Flint spinning in the dark of
+the sea.
+
+THE END
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS
+GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
+
+
+
+
+
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pagan Madonna, by Harold MacGrath
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Pagan Madonna
+
+Author: Harold MacGrath
+
+Illustrator: W. H. D. Koerner
+
+Release Date: November 27, 2008 [EBook #27339]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PAGAN MADONNA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<hr class='ppg-pb' />
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.4em; font-style:italic;'>Books by Harold MacGrath</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='minor' />
+
+<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto;  font-size:0.8em;'><tr><td>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>ADVENTURES OF KATHLYN</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>ARMS AND THE WOMAN</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>BEST MAN</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>CARPET FROM BAGDAD</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>DEUCES WILD</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>ENCHANTED HAT</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>GOOSE GIRL</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>HALF A ROGUE</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>HEARTS AND MASKS</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>LUCK OF THE IRISH: A ROMANCE</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>LURE OF THE MASK</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>MILLION DOLLAR MYSTERY</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>PARROT &amp; CO.</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>PIDGIN ISLAND</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>PLACE OF HONEYMOONS</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>PRINCESS ELOPES</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>PUPPET CROWN</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>SPLENDID HAZARD</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>THE DRUMS OF JEOPARDY</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>THE GIRL IN HIS HOUSE</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>THE GREY CLOAK</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>THE MAN ON THE BOX</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>THE MAN WITH THREE NAMES</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>THE PAGAN MADONNA</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>THE PRIVATE WIRE TO WASHINGTON</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>THE YELLOW TYPHOON</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>VOICE OF THE FOG</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr class='ppg-pb' />
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 365px; height: 549px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 365px;'>
+&#8220;<i>&#8216;Thank you for coming up,&#8217; said Cunningham. &#8216;It makes me feel that you trust me.&#8217;</i>&#8221;<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='ppg-pb' />
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:2em; margin-top:1em;'>THE</p>
+<p style=' font-size:2em; margin-bottom:0.5em;'>PAGAN MADONNA</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>BY</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>HAROLD MacGRATH</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-tpg.png' alt='' title=''  /><br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p>FRONTISPIECE</p>
+<p>BY</p>
+<p style=' margin-bottom:3em;'>W. H. D. KOERNER</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>GARDEN CITY, N. Y., AND TORONTO</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>DOUBLEDAY, PAGE &amp; COMPANY</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:2.2em;'>1921</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='ppg-pb' />
+<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em;'>
+<p style=' margin-bottom:1.2em;'>COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY</p>
+<p style=' margin-bottom:1.2em;'>DOUBLEDAY, PAGE &amp; COMPANY</p>
+<p>ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION</p>
+<p style=' margin-bottom:2em;'>INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN</p>
+<p>COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='ppg-pb' />
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span></div>
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.6em;'>The Pagan Madonna</p>
+</div>
+
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Humdrum isn&#8217;t where you live; it&#8217;s what
+you are. Perhaps you are one of those
+whose lives are bound by neighbourly
+interests. Imaginatively, you never seek what lies
+under a gorgeous sunset; you are never stirred by
+any longing to investigate the ends of rainbows.
+You are more concerned by what your neighbour
+does every day than by what he might do if he were
+suddenly spun, whirled, jolted out of his poky
+orbit. The blank door of an empty house never
+intrigues you; you enter blind alleys without thrilling
+in the least; you hear a cry in the night and
+impute it to some marauding tom. Lord, what a
+life!</p>
+<p>And yet every move you make is governed by
+Chance&mdash;the Blind Madonna of the Pagan, as
+that great adventurer, Stevenson, called it. You
+never stop to consider that it is only by chance
+that you leave home and arrive at the office alive&mdash;millions
+and millions of you&mdash;poor old stick-in-the-muds!
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span>
+Because this or that hasn&#8217;t happened to
+you, you can&#8217;t be made to believe that it might
+have happened to someone else. What&#8217;s a wood
+fire to you but a shin warmer? And how you hate
+to walk alone! So sheer off&mdash;this is not for you.</p>
+<p>But to you, fenced in by circumstance, walls of
+breathless brick and stone, suffocating with longing,
+you whose thought springs ever toward the
+gorgeous sunset and the ends of rainbows; who
+fly in dreams across the golden south seas to the
+far countries, you whose imagination transforms
+every ratty old square-rigger that pokes down the
+bay into a Spanish galleon&mdash;come with me.</p>
+<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto;  font-style:italic;'><tr><td>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>For to admire an&#8217; for to see,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>For to be&#8217;old this world so wide.</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p>First off, Ling Foo, of Woosung Road, perhaps
+the most bewildered Chinaman in all Shanghai
+last April. The Blind Madonna flung him into a
+great game and immediately cast him out of it,
+giving him never an inkling of what the game was
+about and leaving him buffeted by the four winds
+of wonder.</p>
+<p>A drama&mdash;he was sure of that&mdash;had rolled up,
+touched him icily if slightly, and receded, like a
+wave on the beach, without his knowing in the
+least what had energized it in his direction.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span>
+During lulls, for years to come, Ling Foo&#8217;s consciousness
+would strive to press behind the wall for a key
+to the riddle; for years to come he would be searching
+the International Bund, Nanking Road,
+Broadway and Bubbling Well roads for the young
+woman with the wonderful ruddy hair and the man
+who walked with the sluing lurch.</p>
+<p>Ah, but that man&mdash;the face of him, beautiful as
+that of a foreign boy&#8217;s, now young, now old, as
+though a cobweb shifted to and fro across it! The
+fire in those dark eyes and the silk on that tongue!
+Always that face would haunt him, because it
+should not have been a man&#8217;s but a woman&#8217;s.
+Ling Foo could not go to his gods for comparisons,
+for a million variations of Buddha offered no such
+countenance; so his recollection would always be
+tinged with a restless sense of dissatisfaction.</p>
+<p>There were other faces in the picture, but with
+the exception of the woman&#8217;s and the man&#8217;s he
+could not reassemble the features of any.</p>
+<p>A wild and bitter night. The nor&#8217;easter,
+packed with a cold, penetrating rain, beat down
+from the Yellow Sea, its insensate fury clearing the
+highways of all save belated labourers and &#8217;ricksha
+boys. Along the Chinese Bund the sampans
+huddled even more closely together, and rocked
+and creaked and complained. The inscrutable
+countenance of the average Chinaman is the result
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span>
+of five thousand years of misery. It was a night
+for hand warmers&mdash;little jigsawed brass receptacles
+filled with smoldering punk or charcoal,
+which you carried in your sleeves and hugged if you
+happened to be a Chinaman, as Ling Foo was.</p>
+<p>He was a merchant. He sold furs, curios, table
+linen, embroideries. His shop was out on the
+Woosung Road. He did not sit on his stool or in
+his alcove and wait for customers. He made packs
+of his merchandise and canvassed the hotels in
+the morning, from floor to floor, from room to
+room. His curios, however, he left in the shop.
+That was his lure to bring his hotel customers
+round in the afternoon, when there were generally
+additional profits and no commissions. This, of
+course, had been the <i>modus operandi</i> in the happy
+days before 1914, when white men began the
+slaughter of white men. Nowadays Ling Foo was
+off to the Astor House the moment he had news of
+a ship dropping anchor off the bar twelve miles
+down the Whangpoo River. The hour no longer
+mattered; the point was to beat his competitors to
+the market&mdash;and often there was no market.</p>
+<p>He did not call the white people foreign devils;
+he called them customers. That they worshipped
+a bearded Buddha was no concern of his. Born in
+the modern town, having spent twelve years in
+San Francisco, he was not heavily barnacled with
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span>
+tradition. He was shrewd, a suave bargainer, and
+as honest as the day is long. His English was
+fluent.</p>
+<p>To-night he was angry with the fates. The ship
+was hours late. Moreover, it was a British transport,
+dropping down from Vladivostok. He would
+be wasting his time to wait for such passengers as
+came ashore. They would be tired and hungry
+and uncomfortable. So at seven o&#8217;clock he lit a
+piece of punk, dropped it into his hand warmer,
+threw his pack over his shoulders, and left the
+cheery lobby of the hotel where he had been waiting
+since five in the afternoon. He would be cold
+and wet and hungry when he reached his shop.</p>
+<p>Outside he called to a disconsolate &#8217;ricksha boy,
+and a moment later rattled across the bridge that
+spans the Soochow Creek. Even the Sikh policeman
+had taken to cover. When he finally arrived
+home he was drenched from his cap button to the
+wooden soles of his shoes. He unlocked the shop
+door, entered, flung the pack on the floor, and
+turned on the electric light. Twenty minutes
+later he was in dry clothes; hot rice, bean curd, and
+tea were warming him; and he sat cross-legged in a
+little alcove behind his till, smoking his metal pipe.
+Two or three puffs, then he would empty the ash
+in a brass bowl. He repeated this action half a
+dozen times. He was emptying the ash for the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span>
+last time when the door opened violently and a
+man lurched in, hatless and apparently drunk&mdash;a
+white man.</p>
+<p>But instantly Ling Foo saw that the man was
+not drunk. Blood was streaming down his face,
+which was gray with terror and agony. The man
+made a desperate effort to save himself from falling,
+and dragged a pile of embroidered jackets to
+the floor as he went down.</p>
+<p>Ling Foo did not stir. It was not possible for
+him to move. The suddenness of the spectacle
+had disconnected thought from action. He saw
+all this, memorized it, even speculated upon it; but
+he could not move.</p>
+<p>The door was still open. The rain slanted
+across the black oblong space. He saw it strike
+the windows, pause, then trickle down. He could
+not see what had become of the man; the counter
+intervened. A tingle ran through Ling Foo&#8217;s
+body, and he knew that his brain had gained control
+of his body again. But before this brain could
+telegraph to his legs three men rushed into the
+shop. A bubble of sound came into Ling Foo&#8217;s
+throat&mdash;one of those calls for help that fear
+smothers.</p>
+<p>The three men disappeared instantly below the
+counter rim. Silence, except for the voices of the
+rain and the wind. Ling Foo, tensely, even
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span>
+painfully alive now, waited. He was afraid, and it was
+perfectly logical fear. Perhaps they had not
+noticed him in the alcove. So he waited for this
+fantastic drama to end.</p>
+<p>The three men rose in unison. Ling Foo saw
+that they were carrying the fourth between them.
+The <ins class="trnote" title="&#8220;men&#8221; in original">man</ins> who carried the head and shoulders of the
+victim&mdash;for Ling Foo was now certain that murder
+was abroad&mdash;limped oddly, with a heave and
+a sluing twist. Ling Foo slid off his cushion and
+stepped round the counter in time to see the night
+absorb the back of the man who limped. He
+tried to recall the face of the man, but could not.
+His initial terror had drawn for him three white
+patches where faces should have been.</p>
+<p>For several minutes Ling Foo stared at the oblong
+blackness; then with a hysterical gurgle he ran
+to the door, slammed and bolted it, and leaned
+against the jamb, sick and faint, yet oddly relieved.
+He would not now have to account to the
+police for the body of an unknown white man.</p>
+<p>A queer business. Nothing exciting ever happened
+along this part of Woosung Road. What he
+had witnessed&mdash;it still wasn&#8217;t quite believable&mdash;belonged
+to the water front. Things happened
+there, for these white sailors were a wild lot.</p>
+<p>When the vertigo went out of his legs, Ling Foo
+cat-stepped over to the scattered embroidered
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span>
+jackets and began mechanically to replace them on
+the counter&mdash;all but two, for these were speckled
+with blood. He contemplated them for a space,
+and at last picked them up daintily and tossed
+them into a far corner. When the blood dried he
+would wash them out himself.</p>
+<p>But there was that darkening stain on the floor.
+That would have to be washed out at once or it
+would be crying up to him eternally and recasting
+the tragic picture. So he entered the rear of the
+shop and summoned his wife. Meekly she obeyed
+his order and scrubbed the stain. Her beady little
+black eyes were so tightly lodged in her head that
+it was not possible for her to elevate her brows in
+surprise. But she knew that this stain was blood.</p>
+<p>Ling Foo solemnly waved her aside when the
+task was done, and she slip-slapped into the household
+dungeon out of which she had emerged.</p>
+<p>Her lord and master returned to his alcove. Ah,
+but the pipe was good! He rocked slightly as he
+smoked. Three pipefuls were reduced to ashes;
+then he wriggled off the cushion, picked up his cash
+counter and began slithering the buttons back and
+forth; not because there were any profits or losses
+that day, but because it gave a welcome turn to his
+thoughts.</p>
+<p>The storm raged outside. Occasionally he felt
+the floor shudder. The windows ran thickly with
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span>
+rain. The door rattled. It was as if all objects
+inanimate were demanding freedom from bolts and
+nails. With the tip of his long, slender finger Ling
+Foo moved the buttons. He counted what his
+profits would be in Manchurian sables; in the two
+Ming vases that had come in mysteriously from
+Kiao-chau&mdash;German loot from Peking; counted his
+former profits in snuff bottles, and so on.</p>
+<p>The door rattled furiously.</p>
+<p>Ling Foo could consider himself as tolerably
+wealthy. Some day, when this great turmoil
+among the whites subsided, he would move to
+South China and grow little red oranges and
+melons, and there would be a nook in the gardens
+where he could sit with the perfume of jasmine
+swimming over and about his head and the goodly
+Book of Confucius on his knees.</p>
+<p>A thudding sound&mdash;that wasn&#8217;t the wind. Ling
+Foo looked over his buttons. He saw a human
+face outside the door; a beautiful boy&#8217;s face&mdash;white.
+That was the first impression. But as he
+stared he saw a man&#8217;s fury destroy the boyish
+stamp&mdash;gestures that demanded admission.</p>
+<p>But Ling Foo shook his head with equal emphasis.
+He would not go near that door again this
+night.</p>
+<p>The man outside shook his fists threateningly,
+wheeled, and strode off. Three strides took him
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span>
+out of sight; but Ling Foo, with a damp little
+chill on his spine, remarked that the visitor limped.</p>
+<p>So! This would be the man who had carried
+the bloody head and shoulders of the unknown.</p>
+<p>Oriental curiosity blazed up and over Ling Foo&#8217;s
+distaste. What was it all about? Why had the
+limping man returned and demanded entrance?
+What had they done with the body? Pearls! The
+thought struck him as a blow. He began to
+understand something of the episode. Pearls!
+The beaten man had heard that sometimes Ling
+Foo of Woosung Road dealt in pearls without being
+overcurious. A falling out among thieves, and
+one had tried to betray his confederates, paying
+grimly for it. Pearls!</p>
+<p>He trotted down to the door and peered into the
+night, but he could see nothing. He wished now
+that he had purchased those window curtains such
+as the white merchants used over on the Bund.
+Every move he made could be seen from across the
+way, and the man who limped might be lurking
+there, watching.</p>
+<p>The man had come to him with pearls, but he
+had not been quick enough. What had he done
+with them? The man with the slue-foot would
+not have returned had he found the pearls on his
+moribund partner. That was sound reasoning.
+Ling Foo&#8217;s heart contracted, then expanded and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span>
+began to beat like a bird&#8217;s wing. In here somewhere&mdash;on
+the floor!</p>
+<p>He turned away from the door without haste.
+His Oriental mind worked quickly and smoothly.
+He would tramp back and forth the length of the
+shop as if musing, but neither nook nor crevice
+should escape his eye. He was heir to these pearls.
+Slue-Foot&mdash;for so Ling Foo named his visitor&mdash;would
+not dare molest him, since he, Ling Foo,
+could go to the authorities and state that murder
+had been done. Those tiger eyes in a boy&#8217;s face!
+His spine grew cold.</p>
+<p>Nevertheless, he set about his game. With his
+hands in his sleeves, his chin down, he paced the
+passage between the two counters. As he turned
+for the fifth journey a red-and-blue flash struck his
+eye. The flash came from the far corner of the
+shop, from the foot of the gunpowder-blue temple
+vase. Diamonds&mdash;not pearls but diamonds!
+Russian loot!</p>
+<p>Ling Foo pressed down his excitement and
+slowly approached the vase. A necklace! He
+gave the object a slight kick, which sent it rattling
+toward the door to the rear. He resumed his
+pacing. Each time he reached the necklace he
+gave it another kick. At length the necklace was
+at the threshold. Ling Foo approached the light
+and shut it off. Next he opened the door and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span>
+kicked the necklace across the threshold. Diamonds&mdash;thirty
+or forty of them on a string.</p>
+<p>The room in the rear was divided into workshop
+and storeroom. The living rooms were above.
+His wife was squatted on the floor in an unlittered
+corner mending a ceremonial robe of his. She was
+always in this room at night when Ling Foo was
+in the shop.</p>
+<p>He ignored her and carried his prize to a lapidary&#8217;s
+bench. He perched himself on a stool and
+reached for his magnifying glass. A queer little
+hiss broke through his lips. Cut-glass beads,
+patently Occidental, and here in Shanghai practically
+worthless!</p>
+<p>In his passion of disappointment he executed a
+gesture as if to hurl the beads to the floor, but let
+his arm sink slowly. He had made a mistake.
+These beads had not brought tragedy in and out
+of his shop. Somehow he had missed the object;
+some nook or corner had escaped him. In the
+morning he would examine every inch of the floor.
+White men did not kill each other for a string of
+glass beads.</p>
+<p>He stirred the beads about on his palm, and
+presently swung them under the droplight. Beautifully
+cut, small and large beads alternating, and
+on the smaller a graven letter he could not decipher.
+He observed some dark specks, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span>
+scrutinized them under the magnifying glass.
+Blood! His Oriental mind groped hopelessly.
+Blood! He could make nothing of it. A murderous
+quarrel over such as these!</p>
+<p>For a long time Ling Foo sat on his stool, the
+image of Buddha contemplating the way. Outside
+the storm carried on vigorously, sending
+rattles into casements and shudders into doors.
+The wifely needle, a thread of silver fire, shuttled
+back and forth in the heavy brocade silk.</p>
+<p>Glass beads! Trumpery! Ling Foo slid off
+the stool and shuffled back into the shop for his
+metal pipe.</p>
+<p>Having pushed Ling Foo into this blind alley,
+out of which he was shortly to emerge, none the
+wiser, the Pagan Madonna swooped down upon
+the young woman with the ruddy hair and touched
+her with the impelling finger.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was chance that brought Jane Norman into
+Shanghai. The British transport, bound from
+Vladivostok to Hong-Kong, was destined to
+swing on her mudhook forty-eight hours. So
+Jane, a Red Cross nurse, relieved and on the first
+leg of the journey home to the United States, decided
+to spend those forty-eight hours in Shanghai,
+see the sights and do a little shopping. Besides,
+she had seen nothing of China. On the way over,
+fourteen months since, she had come direct from
+San Francisco to the Russian port.</p>
+<p>Jane was one of those suffocating adventurers
+whom circumstance had fenced in. In fancy she
+beat her hands against the bars of this cage that
+had no door, but through which she could see the
+caravans of dreams. Sea room and sky room were
+the want of her, and no matter which way she
+turned&mdash;bars. Her soul craved colour, distances,
+mountain peaks; and about all she had ever seen
+were the white walls of hospital wards. It is not
+adventure to tend the sick, to bind up wounds, to
+cheer the convalescing; it is a dull if angelic business.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span></p>
+<p>In her heart of hearts Jane knew that she had
+accepted the hardships of the Siberian campaign
+with the secret hope that some adventure might
+befall her&mdash;only to learn that her inexorable cage
+had travelled along with her. Understand, this
+longing was not the outcome of romantical reading;
+it was in the marrow of her&mdash;inherent. She was
+not in search of Prince Charming. She rarely
+thought of love as other young women think of it.
+She had not written in her mind any particular
+event she wanted to happen; but she knew that
+there must be colour, distance, mountain peaks.
+A few days of tremendous excitement; and then
+she acknowledged that she would be quite ready
+to return to the old monotonous orbit.</p>
+<p>The Great War to Jane had not been romance
+and adventure; her imagination, lively enough in
+other directions, had not falsely coloured the
+stupendous crime. She had accepted it instantly
+for what it was&mdash;pain, horror, death, hunger, and
+pestilence. She saw it as the genius of Vasili
+Vereshchagin and Émile Zola had seen it.</p>
+<p>The pioneer&mdash;after all, what was it he was truly
+seeking? Freedom! And as soon as ever civilization
+caught up with him he moved on. Without
+understanding it, that was really all Jane wanted&mdash;freedom.
+Freedom from genteel poverty, freedom
+from the white walls of hospitals, freedom
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span>
+from exactly measured hours. Twenty four hours
+a day, all her own; that was what she wanted;
+twenty-four hours a day to do with as she pleased&mdash;to
+sleep in, play, laugh, sing, love in. Pioneers,
+explorers, adventurers&mdash;what else do they seek?
+Twenty-four hours a day, all their own!</p>
+<p>At half after eight&mdash;about the time Ling Foo
+slid off his stool&mdash;the tender from the transport
+sloshed up to the customs jetty and landed Jane, a
+lone woman among a score of officers of various
+nationalities. But it really wasn&#8217;t the customs
+jetty her foot touched; it was the outer rim of the
+whirligig.</p>
+<p>Some officer had found an extra slicker for her
+and an umbrella. Possibly the officer in olive drab
+who assisted her to the nearest covered &#8217;ricksha and
+directed the placement of her luggage.</p>
+<p>&#8220;China!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, ma&#8217;am. Mandarin coats and oranges,
+jade and jasmine, Pekingese and red chow dogs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I don&#8217;t mean that kind!&#8221; she interrupted.
+&#8220;I should think these poor &#8217;ricksha boys would die
+of exposure.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Manchus are the toughest human beings on
+earth. I&#8217;ll see you in the morning?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That depends,&#8221; she answered, &#8220;upon the sun.
+If it rains I shall lie abed all day. A real bed!
+Honour bright, I&#8217;ve often wondered if I should
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span>
+ever see one again. Fourteen months in that awful
+world up there! Siberia!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a plucky woman.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Somebody had to go. Armenia or Siberia, it
+was all the same to me if I could help.&#8221; She held
+out her hand. &#8220;Good-night, captain. Thank
+you for all your kindness to me. Ten o&#8217;clock, if it is
+sunshiny. You&#8217;re to show me the shops. Oh, if
+I were only rich!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And what would you do if you had riches?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d buy all the silk at Kai Fook&#8217;s&mdash;isn&#8217;t that
+the name?&mdash;and roll myself up in it like a cocoon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The man laughed. He understood. A touch
+of luxury, after all these indescribable months of
+dirt and disease, rain and snow and ice, among a
+people who lived like animals, who had the intelligence
+of animals. When he spoke the officer&#8217;s
+voice was singularly grave:</p>
+<p>&#8220;These few days have been very happy ones for
+me. At ten&mdash;if the sun shines. Good-night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The &#8217;rickshas in a wavering line began to roll
+along the Bund, which was practically deserted.
+The lights shone through slanting lattices of rain.
+Twice automobiles shot past, and Jane resented
+them. China, the flowery kingdom! She was
+touched with a little thrill of exultation. But oh,
+to get home, home! Never again would she long
+for palaces and servants and all that. The little
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span>
+wooden-frame house and the garden would be
+paradise enough. The crimson ramblers, the
+hollyhocks, the bachelor&#8217;s-buttons, and the peonies,
+the twisted apple tree that never bore more than
+enough for one pie! Her throat tightened.</p>
+<p>She hadn&#8217;t heard from the mother in two
+months, but there would be mail at Hong-Kong.
+Letters and papers from home! Soon she would be
+in the sitting room recounting her experiences; and
+the little mother would listen politely, even doubtfully,
+but very glad to have her back. How odd it
+was! In the mother the spirit of adventure never
+reached beyond the garden gate, while in the
+daughter it had always been keen for the far
+places. And in her first adventure beyond the
+gate, how outrageously she had been cheated!
+She had stepped out of drab and dreary routine
+only to enter a drabber and drearier one.</p>
+<p>What a dear boy this American officer was! He
+seemed to have been everywhere, up and down the
+world. He had hunted the white orchid of Borneo;
+he had gone pearl hunting in the South Seas; and
+he knew Monte Carlo, London, Paris, Naples,
+Cairo. But he never spoke of home. She had
+cleverly led up to it many times in the past month,
+but always he had unembarrassedly switched the
+conversation into another channel.</p>
+<p>This puzzled her deeply. From the other
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span>
+Americans she never heard of anything but home,
+and they were all mad to get there. Yet Captain
+Dennison maintained absolute silence on that
+topic. Clean shaven, bronzed, tall, and solidly
+built, clear-eyed, not exactly handsome but engaging&mdash;what
+lay back of the man&#8217;s peculiar
+reticence? Being a daughter of Eve, the mystery
+intrigued her profoundly.</p>
+<p>Had he been a professional sailor prior to the
+war? It seemed to her if that had been the case
+he would have enlisted in the Navy. He talked
+like a man who had spent many years on the
+water; but in labour or in pleasure, he made it
+most difficult for her to tell. Of his people, of his
+past, not Bluebeard&#8217;s closet was more firmly shut.
+Still with a little smile she recalled that eventually
+a woman had opened that closet door, and hadn&#8217;t
+had her head cut off, either.</p>
+<p>He was poor like herself. That much was
+established. For he had said frankly that when
+he received his discharge from the Army he would
+have to dig up a job to get a meal ticket.</p>
+<p>Dear, dear! Would she ever see a continuous
+stretch of sunshine again? How this rain tore into
+things! Shanghai! Wouldn&#8217;t it be fun to have a
+thousand dollars to fling away on the shops? She
+wanted jade beads, silks&mdash;not the quality the
+Chinese made for export, but that heavy, shiver
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span>
+stuff that was as strong and shielding as wool&mdash;ivory
+carvings, little bronze Buddhas with prayer
+scrolls inside of them, embroidered jackets. But
+why go on? She had less than a hundred, and she
+would have to carry home gimcracks instead of
+curios.</p>
+<p>They were bobbing over a bridge now, and a
+little way beyond she saw the lighted windows of
+the great caravansary, the Astor House. It
+smacked of old New York, where in a few weeks
+she would be stepping back into the dull routine of
+hospital work.</p>
+<p>She paid the ricksha boy and ran into the lobby,
+stamping her feet and shaking the umbrella. The
+slicker was an overhead affair, and she had to take
+off her hat to get free. This act tumbled her hair
+about considerably, and Jane Norman&#8217;s hair was
+her glory. It was the tint of the copper beech,
+thick, finespun, with intermittent twists that gave
+it a wavy effect.</p>
+<p>Jane was not beautiful; that is, her face was
+not&mdash;it was comely. It was her hair that turned
+male heads. It was then men took note of her
+body. She was magnificently healthy, and true
+health is a magnet as powerful as that of the true
+pole. It drew toward her men and women and
+children. Her eyes were gray and serious; her
+teeth were white and sound. She was twenty-four.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span></p>
+<p>There was, besides her hair, another thing that
+was beautiful&mdash;her voice. It answered like the G
+string of an old Strad to every emotion. One
+could tell instantly when she was merry or sad or
+serious or angry. She could not hide her emotions
+any more than she could hide her hair. As a war
+nurse she had been adored by the wounded men
+and fought over by the hospital commandants.
+But few men had dared make love to her. She
+had that peculiar gift of drawing and repelling
+without consciousness.</p>
+<p>As the Chinese boy got her things together Jane
+espied the bookstall. American newspapers and
+American magazines! She packed four or five of
+each under her arm, nodded to the boy, and followed
+the manager to the lift! She hoped the
+lights would hang so that she could lie in bed and
+read. Her brain was thirsty for a bit of romance.</p>
+<p>Humming, she unpacked. She had brought
+one evening gown, hoping she might have a chance
+to wear it before it fell apart from disuse. She
+shook out the wrinkles and hung the gown in the
+closet. Lavender! She raised a fold of the gown
+and breathed in rapturously that homy perfume.
+She sighed. Perhaps she would have to lay away
+all her dreams in lavender.</p>
+<p>A little later she sat before the dressing mirror,
+combing her hair. How it happened she never
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span>
+could tell, but she heard a crash upon the wood
+floor, and discovered her hand mirror shattered
+into a thousand splinters.</p>
+<p>Seven years&#8217; bad luck! She laughed. Fate
+had blundered. The mirror had fallen seven
+years too late.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Outside the bar where the Whangpoo
+empties into the Yang-tse lay the thousand-ton
+yacht <i>Wanderer II</i>, out of New
+York. She was a sea whippet, and prior to the
+war her bowsprit had nosed into all the famed
+harbours of the seven seas. For nearly three years
+she had been in the auxiliary fleet of the United
+States Navy. She was still in war paint, owner&#8217;s
+choice, but all naval markings had been obliterated.
+Her deck was flush. The house, pierced by the
+main companionway, was divided into three
+sections&mdash;a small lounging room, a wireless room,
+and the captain&#8217;s cabin, over which stood the
+bridge and chart house. The single funnel rose
+between the captain&#8217;s cabin and the wireless
+room, and had the rakish tilt of the racer. <i>Wanderer
+II</i> could upon occasion hit it up round twenty-one
+knots, for all her fifteen years. There was
+plenty of deck room fore and aft.</p>
+<p>The crew&#8217;s quarters were up in the forepeak.
+A passage-way divided the cook&#8217;s galley and the
+dry stores, then came the dining salon. The main
+salon, with a fine library, came next. The port
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span>
+side of this salon was cut off into the owner&#8217;s
+cabin. The main companionway dropped into
+the salon, a passage each side giving into the guest
+cabins. But rarely these days were there any
+guests on <i>Wanderer II</i>.</p>
+<p>The rain slashed her deck, drummed on the boat
+canvas, and blurred the ports. The deck house
+shed webby sheets of water, now to port, now to
+starboard. The ladder was down, and a reflector
+over the platform advertised the fact that either
+the owner had gone into Shanghai or was expecting
+a visitor.</p>
+<p>All about were rocking lights, yellow and green
+and red, from warships, tramps, passenger ships,
+freighters, barges, junks. The water was streaked
+with shaking lances of colour.</p>
+<p>In the salon, under a reading lamp, sat a man
+whose iron-gray hair was patched with cowlicks.
+Combs and brushes produced no results, so the
+owner had had it clipped to a short pompadour.
+It was the skull of a fighting man, for all that
+frontally it was marked by a high intellectuality.
+This sort of head generally gives the possessor
+yachts like <i>Wanderer II</i>, tremendous bank accounts;
+the type that will always possess these
+things, despite the howl of the proletariat.</p>
+<p>The face was sunburned. There was some
+loose flesh under the jaws. The nose was thick
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span>
+and pudgy, wide in the nostrils, like a lion&#8217;s. The
+predatory are not invariably hawk-nosed. The
+eyes were blue&mdash;in repose, a warm blue&mdash;and there
+were feathery wrinkles at the corners which suggested
+that the toll-taker could laugh occasionally.
+The lips were straight and thin, the chin square&mdash;stubborn
+rather than relentless. A lonely man
+who was rarely lonesome.</p>
+<p>His body was big. One has to be keen physically
+as well as mentally to make a real success of anything.
+His score might have tallied sixty. He
+was at the peak of life, but hanging there, you
+might say. To-morrow Anthony Cleigh might
+begin the quick downward journey.</p>
+<p>He had made his money in mines, rails, ships;
+and now he was spending it prodigally. Prodigally,
+yes, but with caution and foresight. There
+was always a ready market for what he bought.
+If he paid a hundred thousand for a Rembrandt,
+rest assured he knew where he could dispose of
+it for the same amount. Cleigh was a collector by
+instinct. With him it was no fad; it was a passion,
+sometimes absurd. This artistic love of rare and
+beautiful creations was innate, not acquired.
+Dealers had long since learned their lesson, and no
+more sought to impose upon him.</p>
+<p>He was not always scrupulous. In the dollar
+war he had been sternly honest, harshly just. In
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span>
+pursuit of objects of art he argued with his conscience
+that he was not injuring the future of
+widows and orphans when he bought some purloined
+masterpiece. Without being in the least
+aware of it, he was now the victim, not the master,
+of the passion. He would have purchased
+Raphael&#8217;s Adoration of the Magi had some rogue
+been able to steal it from the Vatican.</p>
+<p>Hanging from the ceiling and almost touching
+the floor, forward between the entrance to the
+dining salon and the owner&#8217;s cabin, was a rug
+eight and a half by six. It was the first object
+that struck your eye as you came down the
+companionway. It was an animal rug, a museum
+piece; rubies and sapphires and emeralds and
+topaz melted into wool. It was under glass to
+fend off the sea damp. Fit to hang beside the
+Ardebil Carpet.</p>
+<p>You never saw the rug except in this salon.
+Cleigh dared not hang it in his gallery at home
+in New York for the particular reason that the
+British Government, urged by the Viceroy of
+India, had been hunting high and low for the rug
+since 1911, when it had been the rightful property
+of a certain influential maharaja whose <i>Ai, ai!</i> had
+reverberated from Hind to Albion over the loss.
+Thus it will not be difficult to understand why
+Cleigh was lonely rather than lonesome.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></p>
+<p>Queer lot. To be a true collector is to be as the
+opium eater: you keep getting in deeper and
+deeper, careless that the way back closes. After
+a while you cannot feel any kick in the stuff you
+find in the open marts, so you step outside the
+pale, where they sell the unadulterated. That&#8217;s
+the true, dyed-in-the-wool collector. He no longer
+acquires a Vandyke merely to show to his friends;
+that he possesses it for his own delectation is
+enough. He becomes brother to Gaspard, miser;
+and like Gaspard he cannot be fooled by spurious
+gold.</p>
+<p>Over the top of the rug was a curtain of waxed
+sailcloth that could be dropped by the pull of a
+cord, and it was generally dropped whenever
+Cleigh made port.</p>
+<p>It was vaguely known that Cleigh possessed the
+maharaja&#8217;s treasure. Millionaire collectors, agents,
+and famous salesroom auctioneers had heard indirectly;
+but they kept the information to themselves&mdash;not
+from any kindly spirit, however.
+Never a one of them but hoped some day he might
+lay hands upon the rug and dispose of it to some
+other madman. A rug valued at seventy thousand
+dollars was worth a high adventure. Cleigh,
+however, with cynical humour courted the danger.</p>
+<p>There is a race of hardy dare-devils&mdash;super-thieves&mdash;of
+which the world hears little and knows
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span>
+little. These adventurers have actually robbed
+the Louvre, the Vatican, the Pitti Gallery, the
+palaces of kings and sultans. It was not so long
+ago that La Gioconda&mdash;Mona Lisa&mdash;was stolen
+from the Louvre. Cleigh had come from New
+York, thousands of miles, for the express purpose
+of meeting one of these amazing rogues&mdash;a rogue
+who, had he found a rich wallet on the pavements,
+would have moved heaven and earth to find the
+owner, but who would have stolen the Pope&#8217;s
+throne had it been left about carelessly.</p>
+<p>It is rather difficult to analyze the moral status
+of such a man, or that of the man ready to deal
+with him.</p>
+<p>Cleigh lowered his book and assumed a listening
+attitude. Above the patter of the rain he heard
+the putt-putt of a motor launch. He laid the book
+on the table and reached for a black cigar, which
+he lit and began to puff quickly. Louder grew
+the panting of the motor. It stopped abruptly.
+Cleigh heard a call or two, then the creaking of the
+ladder. Two minutes later a man limped into
+the salon. He tossed his sou&#8217;wester to the floor
+and followed it with the smelly oilskin.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Cleigh! Devil of a night!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have a peg?&#8221; asked Cleigh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never touch the stuff.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s so; I had forgotten.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span></p>
+<p>Cleigh never looked upon this man&#8217;s face without
+recalling del Sarto&#8217;s John the Baptist&mdash;supposing
+John had reached forty by the way of reckless
+passions. The extraordinary beauty was still
+there, but as though behind a blurred pane of
+glass.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; said Cleigh, trying to keep the eagerness
+out of his voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s the devil to pay&mdash;all in a half hour.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You haven&#8217;t got it?&#8221; Cleigh blazed out.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Morrissy&mdash;one of the squarest chaps in the
+world&mdash;ran amuck the last minute. Tried to
+double-cross me, and in the rough-and-tumble
+that followed he was more or less banged up. We
+hurried him to a hospital, where he lies unconscious.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But the beads!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Either he dropped them in the gutter, or they
+repose on the floor of a Chinese shop in Woosung
+Road. I&#8217;ll be there bright and early&mdash;never you
+fear. Don&#8217;t know what got into Morrissy. Of
+course I&#8217;ll look him up in the morning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thousands of miles&mdash;to hear a yarn like this!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cleigh, we&#8217;ve done business for nearly twenty
+years. You can&#8217;t point out an instance where I
+ever broke my word.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; grumbled Cleigh. &#8220;But I&#8217;ve gone
+to all this trouble, getting a crew and all that.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span>
+And now you tell me you&#8217;ve let the beads slip
+through your fingers!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pshaw! You&#8217;d have put the yacht into commission
+if you&#8217;d never heard from me. You were
+crazy to get to sea again. Any trouble picking
+up the crew?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. But only four of the old crew&mdash;Captain
+Newton, of course, and Chief Engineer Svenson,
+Donaldson, and Morley. Still, it&#8217;s the best crew I
+ever had: young fellows off warships and transports,
+looking for comfortable berths and a little
+adventure that won&#8217;t entail hunting periscopes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Plenty of coal?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Trust me for that. Four hundred tons in
+Manila, and I shan&#8217;t need more than a bucketful.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who drew the plans for this yacht?&#8221; asked
+Cunningham, with a roving glance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I did.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Humph! Why didn&#8217;t you leave the job to
+someone who knew how? It&#8217;s a series of labyrinths
+on this deck.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wanted a big main salon, even if I had to
+sacrifice some of the rest of the space. Besides, it
+keeps the crew out of sight.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I should say out of touch, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m quite satisfied,&#8221; replied Cleigh, grumpily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cleigh, I&#8217;m through.&#8221; Cunningham spread
+his hands.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you through with?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Through with this game. I&#8217;m going in for a
+little sport. This string of beads was the wind-up.
+But don&#8217;t worry. They&#8217;ll be on board here to-morrow.
+You brought the gold?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The visitor paused in front of the rug. He
+sighed audibly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Scheherazade&#8217;s twinkling little feet! Lord,
+but that rug is a wonder! Cleigh, I&#8217;ve been offered
+eighty thousand for it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s that?&#8221; Cleigh barked, half out of his
+chair.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eighty thousand by Eisenfeldt. I don&#8217;t know
+what crazy fool he&#8217;s dealing for, but he offers me
+eighty thousand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh got up and pressed a wall button. Presently
+a man stepped into the salon from the starboard
+passage. He was lank, with a lean, wind-bitten
+face and a hard blue eye.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dodge,&#8221; announced Cleigh, smiling, &#8220;this is
+Mr. Cunningham. I want you to remember him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dodge agreed with a curt nod.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If ever you see him in this cabin when I&#8217;m
+absent, you know what to do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir,&#8221; replied Dodge, with a wintry smile.</p>
+<p>Cunningham laughed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you carry a Texas gunman round with you
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span>
+now? After all, why not? You never can tell.
+But don&#8217;t worry, Cleigh. If ever I make up my
+mind to accept Eisenfeldt&#8217;s offer, I&#8217;ll lift the yacht
+first.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh laughed amusedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How would you go about to steal a yacht like
+this?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s telling. Now I&#8217;ve got to get back to
+town. My advice for you is to come in to-morrow
+and put up at the Astor, where I can get in touch
+with you easily.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Agreed. That&#8217;s all, Dodge.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Texan departed, and Cunningham burst
+into laughter again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re an interesting man, Cleigh. On my
+word, you do need a guardian&mdash;gallivanting round
+the world with all these treasures. Queer what
+things we do when we try to forget. Is there any
+desperate plunge we wouldn&#8217;t take if we thought
+we could leave the Old Man of the Sea behind?
+You think you&#8217;re forgetting when you fly across
+half the world for a string of glass beads. I think
+I&#8217;m forgetting when I risk my neck getting hold
+of some half-forgotten Rembrandt. But there
+it is, always at our shoulder when we turn. One
+of the richest men in the world! Doesn&#8217;t that
+tingle you when you hear people whisper it as you
+pass? Just as I tingle when some woman gasps,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span>
+&#8216;What a beautiful face!&#8217; We both have our
+withered leg&mdash;only yours is invisible.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The mockery on the face and the irony on the
+tongue of the man disturbed Cleigh. Supposing
+the rogue had his eye on that rug? To what
+lengths might he not go to possess it? And he had
+the infernal ingenuity of his master, Beelzebub.
+Or was he just trying Anthony Cleigh&#8217;s nerves to
+see whether they were sound or raw?</p>
+<p>&#8220;But the beads!&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry. Simply Morrissy ran amuck.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am willing to pay half as much again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You leave that to me&mdash;at the original price.
+No hold-up. Prices fixed, as the French say.
+Those beads will be on board here to-morrow.
+But why the devil do you carry that rug abroad?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To look at.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mad as a hatter!&#8221; Cunningham picked up
+his oilskin and sou&#8217;wester. &#8220;Hang it, Cleigh, I&#8217;ve
+a notion to have a try at that rug just for the sport
+of it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you want to bump into Dodge,&#8221; replied the
+millionaire, dryly, &#8220;try it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, it will be the whole thing&mdash;the yacht&mdash;when
+I start action! Devil take the weather!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How the deuce did the beads happen to turn
+up here in Shanghai?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Morrissy brought them east from Naples.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span>
+That&#8217;s why his work to-night puzzles me. All
+those weeks to play the crook in, and then to make
+a play for it when he knew he could not put it
+over! Brain storm&mdash;and when he comes to he&#8217;ll
+probably be sorry. Well, keep your eye on the
+yacht.&#8221; Cunningham shouldered into his oilskin.
+&#8220;To-morrow at the Astor, between three and five.
+By George, what a ripping idea&mdash;to steal the
+yacht! I&#8217;m mad as a hatter, too. Good-night,
+Cleigh.&#8221; And laughing, Cunningham went twisting
+up the companionway, into the rain and the
+dark.</p>
+<p>Cleigh stood perfectly still until the laughter
+became an echo and the echo a memory.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Morning and winnowed skies; China
+awake. The great black-and-gold banners
+were again fluttering in Nanking
+Road. Mongolian ponies clattered about, automobiles
+rumbled, &#8217;rickshas jogged. Venders were
+everywhere, many with hot rice and bean curd.
+Street cleaners in bright-red cotton jackets were
+busy with the mud puddles. The river swarmed
+with sampans and barges and launches. There
+was only one lifeless thing in all Shanghai that
+morning&mdash;the German Club.</p>
+<p>In the city hospital the man Morrissy, his head
+in bandages, smiled feebly into Cunningham&#8217;s
+face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Were you mad to try a game like that? What
+the devil possessed you? Three to one, and never
+a ghost of a chance. You never blew up like this
+before. What&#8217;s the answer?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just struck me, Dick&mdash;one of those impulses
+you can&#8217;t help. I&#8217;m sorry. Ought to have known
+I&#8217;d have no chance, and you&#8217;d have been justified
+in croaking me. Just as I was in the act of
+handing them over to you the idea came to bolt.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span>
+All that dough would keep me comfortably the
+rest of my life.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What happened to them?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t know. After that biff on the coco I only
+wanted some place to crawl into. I had them in
+my hand when I started to run. Sorry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have they quizzed you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but I made out I couldn&#8217;t talk. What&#8217;s
+the dope?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You were in a rough-and-tumble down the
+Chinese Bund, and we got you away. Play up to
+that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. But, gee! I won&#8217;t be able to go
+with you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If we have any luck, I&#8217;ll see you get a
+share.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s white. You were always a white man,
+Dick. I feel like a skunk. I knew I couldn&#8217;t put
+it over, with the three of you at my elbow. What
+the devil got into me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any funds?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Enough to get me down to Singapore. Where
+do you want me to hang out?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Suit yourself. You&#8217;re out of this play&mdash;and
+it&#8217;s my last.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re quitting the big game?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. What&#8217;s left of my schedule I&#8217;m going to
+run out on my own. So we probably won&#8217;t meet
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span>
+again for a long time, Morrissy. Here&#8217;s a couple
+of hundred to add to your store. If we find the
+beads I&#8217;ll send your share wherever you say.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Might as well be Naples. They&#8217;re off me in
+the States.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. Cook&#8217;s or the American Express?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Address me the Milan direct.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, good-bye.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good-bye, Dick. I&#8217;m sorry I gummed it up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought you&#8217;d be. Good-bye.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But as Cunningham passed from sight, the man
+on the cot smiled ironically at the sun-splashed
+ceiling. A narrow squeak, but he had come
+through.</p>
+<p>Cunningham, grateful for the sunshine, limped
+off toward Woosung Road, grotesquely but incredibly
+fast for a man with only one sound leg.
+He never used a cane, having the odd fancy that a
+stick would only emphasize his affliction. He
+might have taken a &#8217;ricksha this morning, but he
+never thought of it until he had crossed Soochow
+Creek.</p>
+<p>But Ling Foo was not in his shop and the door
+was locked. Cunningham explored the muddy
+gutters all the way from Ling Foo&#8217;s to Moy&#8217;s tea
+house, where the meeting had taken place. He
+found nothing, and went into Moy&#8217;s to wait. Ling
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span>
+Foo would have to pass the restaurant. A boy
+who knew the merchant stood outside to watch.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>Jane woke at nine. The brightness of the window
+shade told her that the sun was clear. She
+sprang out of bed, a trill of happiness in her throat.
+The shops! Oh, the beautiful, beautiful shops!</p>
+<p>&#8220;China, China, China!&#8221; she sang.</p>
+<p>She threw up the shade and squinted for a moment.
+The sun in the heavens and the reflection
+on the Whangpoo were blinding. The sampans
+made her think of ants, darting, scuttling, wheeling.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, the beautiful shops!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Of all the things in the world&mdash;this side of the
+world&mdash;worth having, nothing else seemed comparable
+to jade&mdash;a jade necklace. Not the stone
+that looked like dull marble with a greenish pallor&mdash;no.
+She wanted the deep apple-green jade, the
+royal, translucent stone. And she knew that she
+had as much chance of possessing the real article
+as she had of taking her pick of the scattered
+Romanoff jewels.</p>
+<p>Jane held to the belief that when you wished for
+something you couldn&#8217;t have it was niggardly not
+to wish magnificently.</p>
+<p>She dressed hurriedly, hastened through her
+breakfast of tea and toast and jam, and was about
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span>
+to sally forth upon the delectable adventure, when
+there came a gentle knock on the door. She
+opened it, rather expecting a boy to announce that
+Captain Dennison was below. Outside stood a
+Chinaman in a black skirt and a jacket of blue
+brocade. He was smiling and kotowing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would the lady like to see some things?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come in,&#8221; said Jane, readily.</p>
+<p>Ling Foo deposited his pack on the floor
+and opened it. He had heard that a single
+woman had come in the night before and,
+shrewd merchant that he was, he had wasted no
+time.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Furs!&#8221; cried Jane, reaching down for the
+Manchurian sable. She blew aside the top fur
+and discovered the smoky down beneath. She
+rubbed her cheek against it ecstatically. She
+wondered what devil&#8217;s lure there was about furs
+and precious stones that made women give up all
+the world for them. Was that madness hidden
+away in her somewhere?</p>
+<p>&#8220;How much?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She knew beforehand that the answer would
+render the question utterly futile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A hundred Mex,&#8221; said Ling Foo. &#8220;Very
+cheap.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A hundred Mex?&#8221; That would be nearly
+fifty dollars in American money. With a sigh
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span>
+she dropped the fur. &#8220;Too much for me. How
+much is that Chinese jacket?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Twenty Mex.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jane carried it over to the window.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will give you fifteen for it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo was willing to forego his usual hundred
+per cent. profit in order to start the day with a
+sale. Then he spread out the grass linen.</p>
+<p>Jane went into raptures over some of the designs,
+but in the end she shook her head. She
+wanted something from Shanghai, something from
+Hong-Kong, something from Yokohama. If she
+followed her inclination she would go broke here
+and now.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you any jade? Understand, I&#8217;m not
+buying. Just want to see some.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, lady; but I can bring you some this afternoon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I warn you, I&#8217;m not buying.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall be glad to show the lady. What time
+shall I call?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, about tea time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo reached inside his jacket and produced
+a string of cut-glass beads.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How pretty! What are they?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Glass.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jane hooked the string round her neck and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span>
+viewed the result in the mirror. The sunshine,
+striking the facets, set fire to the beads. They
+were really lovely. She took a sudden fancy to
+them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How much?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Four Mex.&#8221; It was magnanimous of Ling
+Foo.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll take them.&#8221; They were real, anyhow.
+&#8220;Bring your jade at tea time and call for Miss
+Norman. I can&#8217;t give you any more time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, lady.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo bundled up his assorted merchandise
+and trotted away infinitely relieved. The whole
+affair was off his hands. In no wise could the
+police bother him now. He knew nothing; he
+would know nothing until he met his honourable
+ancestors.</p>
+<p>From ten until three Jane, under the guidance
+of Captain Dennison, stormed the shops on the
+Bunds and Nanking Road; but in returning to the
+Astor House she realized with dismay that she had
+expended the major portion of her ammunition in
+this offensive. She doubted if she would have
+enough to buy a kimono in Japan. It was dreadful
+to be poor and to have a taste for luxury and an
+eye for beauty.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Captain,&#8221; she said as they sat down to tea,
+&#8220;I&#8217;m going to ask one more favour.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A Chinaman is coming with some jade. If
+I&#8217;m alone with him I&#8217;m afraid I&#8217;ll buy something,
+and I really can&#8217;t spend another penny in Shanghai.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see. Want me to shoo him off in case his
+persistence is too much for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Exactly. It&#8217;s very nice of you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Greatest pleasure in the world. I wish the
+job was permanent&mdash;shooing &#8217;em away from you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She sent him a quick sidelong glance, but he was
+smiling. Still, there was something in the tone
+that quickened her pulse. All nonsense, of course;
+both of them stony, as the Britishers put it; both
+of them returning to the States for bread and
+butter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why didn&#8217;t you put up here?&#8221; she asked.
+&#8220;There is plenty of room.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I thought perhaps it would be better if I
+stayed at the Palace.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense! Who cares?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do.&#8221; And this time he did not smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose my Chinaman will be waiting in the
+lobby.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s toddle along, then.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison followed her out of the tea room, his
+gaze focused on the back of her neck, and it was
+just possible to resist the mad inclination to bend
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span>
+and kiss the smooth, ivory-tinted skin. He was
+not ready to analyze the impulse for fear he might
+find how deep down the propellant was. A woman,
+young in the heart, young in the body, and old in
+the mind, disillusioned but not embittered, unafraid,
+resourceful, sometimes beautiful and sometimes
+plain, but always splendidly alive.</p>
+<p>Perhaps the wisest move on his part was to avoid
+her companionship, invent some excuse to return
+by the way of Manila, pretend he had transfer
+orders. To spend twenty-one days on the same
+ship with her and to keep his head seemed a bit too
+strong. Had there been something substantial
+reaching down from the future&mdash;a dependable job&mdash;he
+would have gone with her joyously. But he
+had not a dollar beyond his accumulated pay; that
+would melt quickly enough when he reached the
+States. He was thirty; he would have to hustle to
+get anywhere by the time he was forty. His only
+hope was that back in the States they were calling
+for men who knew how to manage men, and he had
+just been discharged&mdash;or recalled for that purpose&mdash;from
+the best school for that. But they were
+calling for specialists, too, and he was a jack of all
+trades and master of none.</p>
+<p>He knew something about art, something about
+music, something about languages; but he could
+not write. He was a fair navigator, but not fair
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span>
+enough for a paying job. He could take an automobile
+engine apart and reassemble it with skill,
+but any chauffeur could do that.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hadn&#8217;t we better go into the parlour?&#8221; he
+heard Jane asking as they passed out.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll be alone there. It will be easier for you
+to resist temptation, I suppose, if there isn&#8217;t any
+audience. Audiences are nuisances. Men have
+killed each other because they feared the crowd
+might mistake common sense for the yellow
+streak.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Instantly the thought leaped into the girl&#8217;s
+mind: Supposing such an event lay back of this
+strange silence about his home and his people?
+She recalled the ruthless ferocity with which he had
+broken up a street fight between American and
+Japanese soldiers one afternoon in Vladivostok.
+Supposing he had killed someone? But she had to
+repudiate this theory. No officer in the United
+States Army could cover up anything like that.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come to the parlour,&#8221; she said to Ling Foo, who
+was smiling and kotowing.</p>
+<p>Ling Foo picked up his blackwood box. Inwardly
+he was not at all pleased at the prospect of
+having an outsider witness the little business
+transaction he had in mind. Obliquely he studied
+the bronze mask. There was no eagerness, no
+curiosity, no indifference. It struck Ling Foo
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span>
+that there was something Oriental in this officer&#8217;s
+repose. But five hundred gold! Five hundred
+dollars in American gold&mdash;for a string of glass
+beads!</p>
+<p>He set the blackwood box on a stand, opened it,
+and spread out jade earrings, rings, fobs, bracelets,
+strings. The girl&#8217;s eagerness caused Ling Foo
+to sigh with relief. It would be easy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I warned you that I should not buy anything,&#8221;
+said Jane, ruefully. &#8220;But even if I had the money
+I would not buy this kind of a jade necklace. I
+should want apple-green.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221; said Ling Foo, shocked with delight.
+&#8220;Perhaps we can make a bargain. You have
+those glass beads I sold you this morning?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I am wearing them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jane took off her mink-fur collaret, which was
+sadly worn.</p>
+<p>Ling Foo&#8217;s hand went into his box again. From
+a piece of cotton cloth he drew forth a necklace
+of apple-green jade, almost perfect.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, the lovely thing!&#8221; Jane seized the necklace.
+&#8220;To possess something like this! Isn&#8217;t it
+glorious, captain?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me see it.&#8221; Dennison inspected the necklace
+carefully. &#8220;It is genuine. Where did you
+get this?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo shrugged.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Long ago, during the Boxer troubles, I bought
+it from a sailor.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, probably loot from the Peking palace.
+How much is it worth?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Murder blazed up in Ling Foo&#8217;s heart, but his
+face remained smilingly bland.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What I can get for it. But if the lady wishes
+I will give it to her in exchange for the glass beads.
+I had no right to sell the beads,&#8221; Ling Foo went
+on with a deprecating gesture. &#8220;I thought the
+man who owned them would never claim them.
+But he came this noon. Something belonging to
+his ancestor&mdash;and he demands it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Trade them? Good heavens, yes! Of all
+things! Here!&#8221; Jane unclasped the beads and
+thrust them toward Ling Foo&#8217;s eager claw.</p>
+<p>But Dennison reached out an intervening hand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just a moment, Miss Norman. What&#8217;s the
+game?&#8221; he asked of Ling Foo.</p>
+<p>Ling Foo silently cursed all this meddler&#8217;s ancestors
+from Noah down, but his face expressed
+only mild bewilderment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Game?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Why didn&#8217;t you offer some other bits of
+jade? This string is worth two or three hundred
+gold; and this is patently a string of glass beads,
+handsomely cut, but nevertheless plain glass.
+What&#8217;s the idea?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;But I have explained!&#8221; protested Ling Foo.
+&#8220;The string is not mine. I have in honour to return
+it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes! That&#8217;s all very well. You could
+have told this lady that and offered to return her
+money. But a jade necklace like this one! No,
+Miss Norman; my advice is to keep the beads until
+we learn what&#8217;s going on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But to let that jade go!&#8221; she wailed comically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The lady may keep the jade until to-morrow.
+She may have the night to decide. This is no
+hurry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo saw that he had been witless indeed.
+The thought of raising the bid of five hundred gold
+to a thousand or more had bemused him, blunted
+his ordinary cunning.</p>
+<p>Inwardly he cursed his stupidity. But the appearance
+of a witness to the transaction had set
+him off his balance. The officer had spoken
+shrewdly. The young woman would have returned
+the beads in exchange for the sum she had
+paid for them, and she would never have suspected&mdash;nor
+the officer, either&mdash;that the beads possessed
+unknown value. Still, the innocent covetousness,
+plainly visible in her eyes, told him that the game
+was not entirely played out; there was yet a dim
+chance. Alone, without the officer to sway her,
+she might be made to yield.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;The lady may wear the beads to-night if she
+wishes. I will return for them in the morning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But this does not explain the glass beads,&#8221;
+said the captain.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will bring the real owner with me in the
+morning,&#8221; volunteered Ling Foo. &#8220;He sets a high
+value on them through sentiment. Perhaps I was
+hasty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison studied the glass beads. Perhaps his
+suspicions were not on any too solid ground. Yet
+a string of jade beads like that in exchange! Something
+was in the air.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said he, smiling at the appeal in the
+girl&#8217;s eyes, &#8220;I don&#8217;t suppose there will be any harm
+in keeping them overnight. We&#8217;ll have a chance
+to talk it over.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo&#8217;s plan of attack matured suddenly.
+He would call near midnight. He would somehow
+manage to get to her door. She would probably
+hand him the glass beads without a word of argument.
+Then he would play his game with the man
+who limped. He smiled inwardly as he put his
+wares back into the carved box. A thousand gold!
+At any rate, he would press the man into a corner.
+There was something about this affair that convinced
+Ling Foo that his noon visitor would pay high
+for two reasons: one, to recover the glass beads;
+the other, to keep out of the reach of the police.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span></p>
+<p>Ling Foo considered that he was playing his
+advantage honestly. He hadn&#8217;t robbed or murdered
+anybody. A business deal had slipped into
+his hands and it was only logical to make the most
+of it. He kotowed several times on the way out
+of the parlour, conscious, however, of the searching
+eyes of the man who had balked him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well!&#8221; exclaimed Jane. &#8220;What in the world
+do you suppose is going on?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lord knows, but something is going on. You
+couldn&#8217;t buy a jade necklace like that under five
+hundred in New York. This apple-green seldom
+runs deep; the colour runs in veins and patches.
+The bulk of the quarried stone has the colour and
+greasy look of raw pork. No; I shouldn&#8217;t put it on
+just now, not until you have washed it. You never
+can tell. I&#8217;ll get you a germicide at the English
+apothecary&#8217;s. Glass beads! Humph! Hanged if
+I can make it out. Glass; Occidental, too; maybe
+worth five dollars in the States. Put it on again.
+It&#8217;s a great world over here. You&#8217;re always
+stumbling into something unique. I&#8217;m coming
+over to dine with you to-night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Splendid!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jane put the jade into her hand-bag, clasped the
+glass beads round her neck again, and together she
+and Dennison walked toward the parlour door.
+As they reached it a tall, vigorous, elderly man
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span>
+with a gray pompadour started to enter. He
+paused, with an upward tilt of the chin, but the
+tilt was the result of pure astonishment. Instinctively
+Jane turned to her escort. His chin was
+tilted, too, and his expression was a match for the
+stranger&#8217;s. Later, recalling the tableau, which
+lasted but a moment, it occurred to Jane that two
+men, suddenly confronted by a bottomless pit,
+might have expressed their dumfounderment in
+exactly this fashion.</p>
+<p>In the lobby she said rather breathlessly: &#8220;You
+knew each other and didn&#8217;t speak! Who is he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The answer threw her into a hypnotic state.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My father,&#8221; said Dennison, quietly.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Father and son! For a while Jane had
+the sensation of walking upon unsubstantial
+floors, of seeing unsubstantial objects.
+The encounter did not seem real, human.
+Father and son, and they had not rushed into each
+other&#8217;s arms! No matter what had happened in
+the past, there should have been some human sign
+other than astonishment. At the very least two
+or three years had separated them. Just stared
+for a moment, and passed on!</p>
+<p>Hypnotism is a fact; a word or a situation will
+create this peculiar state of mind. Father and
+son! The phrase actually hypnotized Jane, and
+she remained in the clutch of it until hours later,
+which may account for the amazing events into
+which she permitted herself to be drawn. Father
+and son! Her actions were normal; her mental
+state was not observable; but inwardly she retained
+no clear recollection of the hours that intervened
+between this and the astonishing climax.
+As from a distance, she heard the voice of the son:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Looks rum to you, no doubt. But I can&#8217;t tell
+you the story&mdash;at least not now. It&#8217;s the story of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span>
+a tomfool. I had no idea he was on this side. I
+haven&#8217;t laid eyes on him in seven years. Dinner
+at seven. I&#8217;ll have that germicide sent up to your
+room.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The captain nodded abruptly and made off
+toward the entrance.</p>
+<p>Jane understood. He wanted to be alone&mdash;to
+catch his breath, as it were. At any rate, that
+was a human sign that something besides astonishment
+was stirring within. So she walked mechanically
+over to the bookstall and hazily glanced at
+the backs of the new novels, riffled the pages of
+a magazine; and to this day she cannot recall
+whether the clerk was a man or a woman, white or
+brown or yellow, for a hand touched her sleeve
+lightly, compelling her attention. Dennison&#8217;s
+father stood beside her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pardon me, but may I ask you a question?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jane dropped the fur collaret in her confusion.
+They both stooped for it, and collided gently; but
+in rising the man glimpsed the string of glass beads.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; said Jane, as she received the
+collaret. &#8220;What is it you wish to ask of me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The name of the man you were with.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dennison; his own and yours&mdash;probably,&#8221; she
+said with spirit, for she took sides in that moment,
+and was positive that the blame for the estrangement
+lay with the father. The level, unagitated
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span>
+voice irritated her; she resented it. He wasn&#8217;t
+human!</p>
+<p>&#8220;My name is Cleigh&mdash;Anthony Cleigh. Thank
+you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh bowed politely and moved away. Behind
+that calm, impenetrable mask, however, was
+turmoil, kaleidoscopic, whirling too quickly for the
+brain to grasp or hold definite shapes. The boy
+here! And the girl with those beads round her
+throat! For the subsidence of this turmoil it was
+needful to have space; so Cleigh strode out of the
+lobby into the fading day, made his way across
+the bridge, and sought the Bund. He forgot all
+about his appointment with Cunningham.</p>
+<p>He lit a cigar and walked on and on, oblivious of
+the cries of the &#8217;ricksha boys, importunate beggars,
+the human currents that broke and flowed each
+side of him. The boy here in Shanghai! And
+that girl with those beads round her throat! It
+was as though his head had become a tom-tom in
+the hands of fate. The drumming made it impossible
+to think clearly. It was the springing up
+of the electric lights that brought him back to
+actualities. He looked at his watch.</p>
+<p>He had been tramping up and down the Bund
+for two solid hours.</p>
+<p>And now came, clearly defined, the idea for
+which he had been searching. He indulged in a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span>
+series of rumbling chuckles. You will have heard
+such a sound in the forest when a stream suddenly
+takes on a merry mood&mdash;broken water.</p>
+<p>To return to Jane, whom Cleigh had left in a
+state of growing hypnosis. She was able to act
+and think intelligently, but the spell lay like a fog
+upon her will, enervating it. She grasped the
+situation clearly enough; it was tremendous. She
+had heard of Anthony Cleigh. Who in America
+had not? Father and son, and they had passed
+each other without a nod! Had she not been a
+witness to the episode, she would not have believed
+such a performance possible.</p>
+<p>Through the fog burst a clear point of light.
+This was not the first time she had encountered
+Anthony Cleigh. Where had she seen him before,
+and under what circumstance? Later, when she
+was alone, she would dig into her storehouse of
+recollection. Certainly she must bring back that
+episode. One thing, she had not known him as
+Anthony Cleigh.</p>
+<p>Father and son, and they had not spoken! It
+was this that beat persistently upon her mind.
+What dramatic event had created such a condition?
+After seven years! These two, strong
+mentally and physically, in a private war! She
+understood now how it was that Dennison had
+been able to tell her about Monte Carlo, the South
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span>
+Sea Islands, Africa, Asia; he had been his father&#8217;s
+companion on the yacht.</p>
+<p>Mechanically she approached the lift. In her
+room all her actions were more or less mechanical.
+From the back of her mind somewhere came the
+order to her hands. She took down the evening
+gown. This time the subtle odour of lavender left
+her untouched. To be beautiful, to wish that she
+were beautiful! Why? Her hair was lovely; her
+neck and arms were lovely; but her nose wasn&#8217;t
+right, her mouth was too large, and her eyes missed
+being either blue or hazel. Why did she wish to be
+beautiful?</p>
+<p>Always to be poor, to be hanging on the edge of
+things, never enough of this or that&mdash;genteel
+poverty. She had inherited the condition, as had
+her mother before her&mdash;gentlefolk who had to
+count the pennies. Her two sisters&mdash;really handsome
+girls&mdash;had married fairly well; but one lived
+in St. Louis and the other in Seattle, so she never
+saw them any more.</p>
+<p>Tired. That was it. Tired of the war for
+existence; tired of the following odours of antiseptics;
+tired of the white walls of hospitals, the
+sight of pain. On top of all, the level dullness of
+the past, the leaden horror of these months in
+Siberia. She laughed brokenly. Gardens scattered
+all over the world, and she couldn&#8217;t find
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span>
+one&mdash;the gardens of imagination! Romance everywhere,
+and she never could touch any of it!</p>
+<p>Marriage. Outside of books, what was it save
+a legal contract to cook and bear children in exchange
+for food and clothes? The humdrum!
+She flung out her arms with a gesture of rage. She
+had been cheated, as always. She had come to
+this side of the world expecting colour, movement,
+adventure. The Orient of the novels she had read&mdash;where
+was it? Drab skies, drab people, drab
+work! And now to return to America, to exchange
+one drab job for another! Nadir, always
+nadir, never any zenith!</p>
+<p>Her bitter cogitations were interrupted by a
+knock on the door. She threw on her kimono and
+answered. A yellow hand thrust a bottle toward
+her. It would be the wash for the jade. She
+emptied the soap dish, cleaned it, poured in the
+germicide, and dropped the jade necklace into the
+liquid. She left it there while she dressed.</p>
+<p>Dennison Cleigh, returning to the States to
+look for a job! Nothing she had ever read seemed
+quite so fantastic. She paused in her dressing to
+stare at some inner thought which she projected
+upon the starred curtain of the night beyond her
+window. Supposing they had wanted to fling
+themselves into each other&#8217;s arms and hadn&#8217;t
+known how? She had had a glimpse or two of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span>
+Dennison&#8217;s fierce pride. Naturally he had inherited
+it from his father. Supposing they were
+just stupid rather than vengeful? Poor, foolish
+human beings!</p>
+<p>She proceeded with her toilet. Finishing that,
+she cleansed the jade necklace with soap and
+water, then realized that she would not be able to
+wear it, because the string would be damp. So
+she put on the glass beads instead&mdash;another move
+by the Madonna of the Pagan. Jane Norman
+was to have her fling.</p>
+<p>Dennison was in the lobby waiting for her.
+He gave a little gasp of delight as he beheld her.
+Of whom and of what did she remind him? Somebody
+he had seen, somebody he had read about?
+For the present it escaped him. Was she handsome?
+He could not say; but there was that in
+her face that was always pulling his glance and
+troubling him for the want of knowing why.</p>
+<p>The way she carried herself among men had
+always impressed him. Fearless and friendly,
+and with deep understanding, she created respect
+wherever she went. Men, toughened and coarsened
+by danger and hardship, somehow understood
+that Jane Norman was not the sort to make
+love to because one happened to be bored. On the
+other hand, there was something in her that called
+to every man, as a candle calls to the moth; only
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span>
+there were no burnt wings; there seemed to be
+some invisible barrier that kept the circling moths
+beyond the zone of incineration.</p>
+<p>Was there fire in her? He wondered. That
+copper tint in her hair suggested it. Magnificent!
+And what the deuce was the colour of her eyes?
+Sometimes there was a glint of topaz, or cornflower
+sapphire, gray agate; they were the most
+tantalizing eyes he had ever gazed into.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hungry?&#8221; he greeted her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For fourteen months!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d give a year of my life for a club steak and
+all the regular fixings.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That isn&#8217;t fair! You&#8217;ve gone and spoiled my
+dinner.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wishy-washy chicken! How I hate tin cans!
+Pancakes and maple syrup! What?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sliced tomatoes with sugar and vinegar!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t mean that!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do! I don&#8217;t care how plebeian it is. Bread
+and butter and sliced tomatoes with sugar and
+vinegar&mdash;better than all the ice cream that ever
+was! Childhood ambrosia! For mercy&#8217;s sake,
+let&#8217;s get in before all the wings are gone!&#8221;</p>
+<p>They entered the huge dining room with its
+pattering Chinese boys&mdash;entered it laughing&mdash;while
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span>
+all the time there was at bottom a single
+identical thought&mdash;the father.</p>
+<p>Would they see him again? Would he be here
+at one of the tables? Would a break come, or
+would the affair go on eternally?</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know what it is!&#8221; he cried, breaking through
+the spell.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ever read &#8216;Phra the Ph&oelig;nician&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, yes. But what is what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For days I&#8217;ve been trying to place you. You&#8217;re
+the British heroine!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She thought for a moment to recall the physical
+attributes of this heroine.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I&#8217;m not red-headed!&#8221; she denied, indignantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But it is! It is the most beautiful head of hair
+I ever laid eyes on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And that is the beginning and the end of me,&#8221;
+she returned with a little catch in her voice.</p>
+<p>The knowledge bore down upon her that her
+soul was thirsty for this kind of talk. She did not
+care whether he was in earnest or not.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The beginning, but not the end of you. Your
+eyes are fine, too. They keep me wondering all the
+time what colour they really are.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s very nice of you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the way you carry yourself!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Good gracious!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You look as if you had come down from
+Olympus and had lost the way back.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Captain, you&#8217;re a dear! I&#8217;ve just been wild
+to have a man say foolish things to me.&#8221; She
+knew that she might play with this man; that he
+would never venture across the line. &#8220;Men have
+said foolish things to me, but always when I was
+too busy to bother. To-night I haven&#8217;t anything
+in this wide world to do but listen. Go on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He laughed, perhaps a little ruefully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is there any fire in you, I wonder?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221;&mdash;tantalizing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Honestly, I should like to see you in a rage.
+I&#8217;ve been watching you for weeks, and have found
+myself irritated by that perpetual calm of yours.
+That day of the riot you stood on the curb as unconcerned
+as though you had been witnessing a
+movie.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is possible that it is the result of seeing so
+much pain and misery. I have been a machine
+too long. I want to be thrust into the middle of
+some fairy story before I die. I have never been
+in love, in a violent rage. I haven&#8217;t known anything
+but work and an abiding discontent. Red
+hair&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But it really isn&#8217;t red. It&#8217;s like the copper
+beech in the sunshine, full of glowing embers.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you a poet?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;On my word, I don&#8217;t know what I am.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There is fire enough in you. The way you
+tossed about our boys and the Japs!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the blood. My father and I used to dress
+for dinner, but we always carried the stone axe under
+our coats. We were both to blame, but only a
+miracle will ever bring us together. I&#8217;m sorry I ran
+into him. It brings the old days crowding back.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;ll survive! Somewhere there&#8217;s a niche
+for me, and sooner or later I&#8217;ll find it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He stopped me in the lobby after you left.
+Wanted to know what name you were using. I
+told him rather bluntly&mdash;and he went on. Something
+in his voice&mdash;made me want to strike him!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison balanced a fork on a finger.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Funny old world, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very. But I&#8217;ve seen him somewhere before.
+Perhaps in a little while it will come back....
+What an extraordinarily handsome man!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where?&#8221;&mdash;with a touch of brusqueness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sitting at the table on your left.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The captain turned. The man at the other
+table caught his eye, smiled, and rose. As he approached
+Jane noticed with a touch of pity that the
+man limped oddly. His left leg seemed to slue
+about queerly just before it touched the floor.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, well! Captain Cleigh!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison accepted the proffered hand, but
+coldly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;On the way back to the States?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The <i>Wanderer</i> is down the river. I suppose
+you&#8217;ll be going home on her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My orders prevent that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Run into the old boy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Naturally,&#8221; with a wry smile at Jane. &#8220;Miss
+Norman, Mr. Cunningham. Where the shark is,
+there will be the pilot fish.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The stranger turned his eyes toward Jane&#8217;s.
+The beauty of those dark eyes startled her. Fire
+opals! They seemed to dig down into her very
+soul, as if searching for something. He bowed
+gravely and limped back to his table.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I begin to understand,&#8221; was Dennison&#8217;s comment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Understand what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All this racket about those beads. My father
+and this man Cunningham in the same town
+generally has significance. It is eight years since I
+saw Cunningham. Of course I could not forget
+his face, but it&#8217;s rather remarkable that he remembered
+mine. He is&mdash;if you tear away the
+romance&mdash;nothing more or less than a thief.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A thief?&#8221;&mdash;astonishedly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Not the ordinary kind; something of a prince
+of thieves. He makes it possible&mdash;he and his
+ilk&mdash;for men like my father to establish private
+museums. And now I&#8217;m going to ask you to do me
+a favour. It&#8217;s just a hunch. Hide those beads
+the moment you reach your room. They are
+yours as much as any one&#8217;s, and they may bring
+you a fancy penny&mdash;if my hunch is worth anything.
+Hang that pigtail, for getting you mixed
+up in this! I don&#8217;t like it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jane&#8217;s hand went slowly to her throat; and even
+as her fingers touched the beads, now warm from
+contact, she became aware of something electrical
+which drew her eyes compellingly toward the man
+with the face of Ganymede and the limp of Vulcan.
+Four times she fought in vain, during dinner, that
+drawing, burning glance&mdash;and it troubled her.
+Never before had a man&#8217;s eye forced hers in this
+indescribable fashion. It was almost as if the
+man had said, &#8220;Look at me! Look at me!&#8221;</p>
+<p>After coffee she decided to retire, and bade
+Dennison good-night. Once in her room she laid
+the beads on the dresser and sat down by the window
+to recast the remarkable ending of this day.
+From the stars to the room, from the room to the
+stars, her glance roved uneasily. Had she fallen
+upon an adventure? Was Dennison&#8217;s theory
+correct regarding the beads? She rose and went
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span>
+to the dresser, inspecting the beads carefully.
+Positively glass! That Anthony Cleigh should be
+seeking a string of glass beads seemed arrant nonsense.</p>
+<p>She hung the beads on her throat and viewed
+the result in the mirror. It was then that her eye
+met a golden glint. She turned to see what had
+caused it, and was astonished to discover on the
+floor near the molding that poor Chinaman&#8217;s brass
+hand warmer. She picked it up and turned back
+the jigsawed lid. The receptacle was filled with
+the ash of punk and charcoal.</p>
+<p>There came a knock on the door.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Now, then, the further adventures of Ling
+Foo of Woosung Road. He was an honest
+Chinaman. He would beat you down
+if he were buying, or he would overcharge you if
+he were selling. There was nothing dishonest in
+this; it was legitimate business. He was only
+shrewd, not crooked. But on this day he came
+into contact with a situation that tried his soul,
+and tricked him into overplaying his hand.</p>
+<p>That morning he had returned to his shop in a
+contented frame of mind. He stood clear of the
+tragedy of the night before. That had never
+happened; he had dreamed it. Of course he would
+be wondering whether or not the man had died.</p>
+<p>When Ling Foo went forth with his business
+in his pack he always closed the shop. Here in
+upper Woosung Road it would not have paid
+him to hire a clerk. His wife, obedient creature
+though she was, spoke almost no pidgin&mdash;business&mdash;English;
+and besides that, she was a poor
+bargainer.</p>
+<p>It was hard by noon when he let himself into the
+shop. The first object he sought was his metal
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span>
+pipe. Two puffs, and the craving was satisfied.
+He took up his counting rack and slithered the
+buttons back and forth. He had made three
+sales at the Astor and two at the Palace, which
+was fair business, considering the times.</p>
+<p>A shadow fell across the till top. Ling Foo
+raised his slanted eyes. His face was like a graven
+Buddha&#8217;s, but there was a crackling in his ears as
+of many fire-crackers. There he stood&mdash;the man
+with the sluing walk! Ling Foo still wore a queue,
+so his hair could not very well stand on end.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You speak English.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was not a question; it was a statement.</p>
+<p>Ling Foo shrugged.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cut out the pidgin. Your neighbour says
+you speak English fluently. At Moy&#8217;s tea-house
+restaurant they say that you lived in California for
+several years.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Twelve,&#8221; said Ling Foo with a certain dry
+humour.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why didn&#8217;t you admit me last night?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shop closed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is what?&#8221; asked the merchant.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The string of glass beads you found on the
+floor last night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A sense of disaster rolled over the Oriental. Had
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span>
+he been overhasty in ridding himself of the beads?
+Patience! Wait a bit! Let the stranger open the
+door to the mystery.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Glass beads?&#8221; he repeated, ruminatively.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will give you ten gold for them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ha! Now they were getting somewhere. Ten
+gold! Then those devil beads had some worth
+outside a jeweller&#8217;s computations? Ling Foo
+smiled and spread his yellow hands.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where are they?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Oriental loaded his pipe and fired it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is the man who stumbled in here last
+night?&#8221; he countered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;His body is probably in the Yang-tse by now,&#8221;
+returned Cunningham, grimly.</p>
+<p>He knew his Oriental. He would have to
+frighten this Chinaman badly, or engage his
+cupidity to a point where resistance would be
+futile.</p>
+<p>There was a devil brooding over his head. Ling
+Foo felt it strangely. His charms were in the far
+room. He would have to fend off the devil without
+material aid, and that was generally a hopeless
+job. With that twist of Oriental thought which
+will never be understood by the Occidental, Ling
+Foo laid down his campaign.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I found it, true. But I sold it this morning.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;For how much?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Four Mex.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham laughed. It was actually honest
+laughter, provoked by a lively sense of humour.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To whom did you sell it, and where can I find
+the buyer?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo picked up the laughter, as it were, and
+gave his individual quirk to it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; said Cunningham, gravely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get that necklace back for me and I will give
+you a hundred gold.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Five hundred.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You saw what happened last night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you will not beat in my head,&#8221; Ling Foo
+declared, easily. &#8220;What is there about this string
+of beads that makes it worth a hundred gold&mdash;and
+life worth nothing?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well,&#8221; said Cunningham, resignedly. &#8220;I
+am a secret agent of the British Government.
+That string of glass beads is the key to a code relating
+to the uprisings in India. The loss of it
+will cost a great deal of money and time. Bring
+it back here this afternoon, and I will pay down
+five hundred gold.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I agree,&#8221; replied Ling Foo, tossing his pipe into
+the alcove. &#8220;But no one must follow me. I do
+not trust you. There is nothing to prevent you
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span>
+from robbing me in the street and refusing to pay
+me. And where will you get five hundred gold?
+Gold has vanished. Even the leaf has all but disappeared.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham dipped his hand into a pocket, and
+magically a dozen double eagles rolled and vibrated
+upon the counter, sending into Ling Foo&#8217;s
+ears that music so peculiar to gold. Many days
+had gone by since he had set his gaze upon the
+yellow metal. His hand reached down&mdash;only to
+feel&mdash;but not so quickly as the white hand, which
+scooped up the coin trickily, with the skill of a
+prestidigitator.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Five hundred gold, then. But are you sure
+you can get the beads back?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo smiled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have a way. I will meet you in the lobby of
+the Astor House at five&#8221;; and he bowed with
+Oriental courtesy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Agreed. All aboveboard, remember, or you
+will feel the iron hand of the British Government.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo doubted that, but he kept this doubt
+to himself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I warn you, I shall go armed. You will bring
+the gold to the Astor House. If I see you after
+I depart&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lord love you, once that code key is in my
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span>
+hands you can go to heaven or the devil, as you
+please! We live in rough times, Ling Foo.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So we do. There is a stain on the floor, about
+where you stand. It is the blood of a white man.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What would you, when a comrade attempts to
+deceive you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;At five in the lobby of the Astor House. Good
+day,&#8221; concluded Ling Foo, fingering the buttons
+on his counting rack.</p>
+<p>Cunningham limped out into the cold sunshine.
+Ling Foo shook his head. So like a boy&#8217;s, that
+face! He shuddered slightly. He knew that a
+savage devil lay ready behind that handsome mask&mdash;he
+had seen it last night. But five hundred
+gold&mdash;for a string of glass beads!</p>
+<p>Ling Foo was an honest man. He would pay
+you cash for cash in a bargain. If he overcharged
+you that was your fault, but he never sold you
+imitations on the basis that you would not know
+the difference. If he sold you a Ming jar&mdash;for
+twice what it was worth in the great marts&mdash;experts
+would tell you that it was Ming. He had
+some jade of superior quality&mdash;the translucent
+deep apple-green. He never carried it about; he
+never even spoke of it unless he was sure that the
+prospective customer was wealthy.</p>
+<p>His safe was in a corner of his workshop. An
+American yegg would have laughed at it, opened
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span>
+it as easily as a ripe peach; but in this district it
+was absolute security. Ling Foo was obliged to
+keep a safe, for often he had valuable pearls to take
+care of, sometimes to put new vigour in dying
+lustre, sometimes to peel a pearl on the chance that
+under the dull skin lay the gem.</p>
+<p>He trotted to the front door and locked it; then
+he trotted into his workshop, planning. If the
+glass beads were worth five hundred, wasn&#8217;t it
+likely they would be worth a thousand? If this
+man who limped had stuck to the hundred Ling
+Foo knew that he would have surrendered eventually.
+But the ease with which the stranger made
+the jump from one to five convinced Ling Foo that
+there could be no harm in boosting five to ten. If
+there was a taint of crookedness anywhere, that
+would be on the other side. Ling Foo knew where
+the beads were, and he would transfer them for one
+thousand gold. Smart business, nothing more
+than that. He had the whip hand.</p>
+<p>Out of his safe he took a blackwood box, beautifully
+carved, Cantonese. Headbands, earrings,
+rings, charms, necklaces, tomb ornaments, some
+of them royal, all of them nearly as ancient as the
+hills of Kwanlun, from which most of them had
+been quarried&mdash;jade. He trickled them from
+palm to palm and one by one returned the objects
+to the box. In the end he retained two strings of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span>
+beads so alike that it was difficult to discern any
+difference. One was Kwanlun jade, royal loot;
+the other was a copy in Nanshan stone. The
+first was priceless, worth what any fool collector
+was ready to pay; the copy was worth perhaps
+a hundred gold. Held to the light, there was a
+subtle difference; but only an expert could have
+told you what this difference was. The royal jade
+did not catch the light so strongly as the copy; the
+touch of human warmth had slightly dulled the
+stone.</p>
+<p>Ling Foo transferred the copy to a purse he wore
+attached to his belt under the blue jacket. The
+young woman would never be able to resist the
+jade. She would return the glass instantly. A
+thousand gold, less the cost of the jade! Good
+business!</p>
+<p>But for once his Oriental astuteness overreached,
+as has been seen. And to add to his discomfiture,
+he never again saw the copy of the Kwanlun,
+representing the virtue of the favourite wife.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>&#8220;I am an honest man,&#8221; he said. &#8220;The tombs
+of my ancestors are not neglected. When I say I
+could not get it I speak the truth. But I believe
+I can get it later.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How?&#8221; asked Cunningham. They were in the
+office, or bureau, of the Astor House, which the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span>
+manager had turned over to them for the moment.
+&#8220;Remember, the arm of the British Government
+is long.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo shrugged.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Being an honest man, I do not fear. She
+would have given it to me but for that officer. He
+knew something about jade.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Conceivably he would.&#8221; He jingled the gold
+in his pocket. &#8220;How do you purpose to get the
+beads?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go to the lady&#8217;s room late. I left the jade with
+her. Alone, she will not resist. I saw it in her
+eyes. But it will be difficult.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see. For you to get into the hotel late. I&#8217;ll
+arrange that with the manager. You will be
+coming to my room. What floor is her room
+on?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The third.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The same as mine. That falls nicely. Return
+then at half after ten. You will come to my room
+for the gold.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo saw his thousand shrink to the original
+five hundred, but there was no help for it. At
+half after ten he knocked on the panel of Jane&#8217;s
+door and waited. He knocked again; still the
+summons was not answered. The third assault
+was emphatic. Ling Foo heard footsteps, but
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span>
+behind him. He turned. The meddling young
+officer was striding toward him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you doing here?&#8221; Dennison demanded.</p>
+<p>His own appearance in the corridor at this hour
+might have been subjectable to inquiry. He had
+left Jane at nine. He had seen her to the lift.
+Perhaps he had walked the Bund for an hour or
+two, but worriedly. The thought of the arrival
+in Shanghai of his father and the rogue Cunningham
+convinced him that some queer game was
+afoot, and that it hinged somehow upon those
+beads.</p>
+<p>There was no sighing in regard to his father, for
+the past that was. An astonishing but purely
+accidental meeting; to-morrow each would go his
+separate way again. All that was a closed page.
+He had long ago readjusted his outlook on the
+basis that reconciliation was hopeless.</p>
+<p>A sudden impulse spun him on his heel, and he
+hurried back to the Astor. The hour did not
+matter, or the possibility that Jane might be abed.
+He would ask permission to become the temporary
+custodian of the beads. What were they, to have
+brought his father across the Pacific&mdash;if indeed
+they had? Anyhow, he would end his own anxiety
+in regard to Jane by assuming the risks, if any,
+himself.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></p>
+<p>No one questioned him; his uniform was a passport
+that required no visé.</p>
+<p>Ling Foo eyed him blandly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am leaving for the province in the morning,
+so I had to come for my jade to-night. But the
+young lady is not in her room.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She must be!&#8221; cried Dennison, alarmed.
+&#8220;Miss Norman?&#8221; he called, beating on the door.</p>
+<p>No sound answered from within. Dennison
+pondered for a moment. Ling Foo also pondered&mdash;apprehensively.
+He suspected that some misfortune
+had befallen the young woman, for her
+kind did not go prowling alone round Shanghai at
+night. Slue-Foot! Should he utter his suspicion
+to this American officer? But if it should become
+a police affair! Bitterly he arraigned himself for
+disclosing his hand to Slue-Foot. That demon had
+forestalled him. No doubt by now he had the
+beads. Ten thousand devils pursue him!</p>
+<p>Dennison struck his hands together, and by and
+by a sleepy Chinese boy came scuffling along the
+corridor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Talkee manager come topside,&#8221; said Dennison.
+When the manager arrived, perturbed, Dennison
+explained the situation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you open the door?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The manager agreed to do that. The bedroom
+was empty. The bed had not been touched. But
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span>
+there was no evidence that the occupant did not
+intend to return.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We shall leave everything just as it is,&#8221; said
+Dennison, authoritatively. &#8220;I am her friend. If
+she does not return by one o&#8217;clock I shall notify
+the police and have the young lady&#8217;s belongings
+transferred to the American consulate. She is
+under the full protection of the United States
+Government. You will find out if any saw her
+leave the hotel, and what the time was. Stay
+here in the doorway while I look about.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He saw the jade necklace reposing in the soap
+dish, and in an ironical mood he decided not to
+announce the discovery to the Chinaman. Let
+him pay for his cupidity. In some mysterious
+manner he had got his yellow claws on those
+infernal beads, and the rogue Cunningham had
+gone to him with a substantial bribe. So let the
+pigtail wail for his jade.</p>
+<p>On the dresser he saw a sheet of paper partly
+opened. Beside it lay a torn envelope. Dennison&#8217;s
+heart lost a beat. The handwriting was his
+father&#8217;s!</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Jane had gone to meet his father. How to
+secrete this note without being observed by
+either the manager or the Chinaman? An
+accident came to his aid. Someone in the corridor
+banged a door violently, and as the manager&#8217;s
+head and Ling Foo&#8217;s jerked about, Dennison stuffed
+the note into a pocket.</p>
+<p>A trap! Dennison wasn&#8217;t alarmed&mdash;he was
+only furious. Jane had walked into a trap. She
+had worn those accursed beads when his father had
+approached her by the bookstall that afternoon.
+The note had attacked her curiosity from a
+perfectly normal angle. Dennison had absorbed
+enough of the note&#8217;s contents to understand how
+readily Jane had walked into the trap.</p>
+<p>Very well. He would wait in the lobby until
+one; then if Jane had not returned he would lay
+the plans of a counter-attack, and it would be a
+rough one. Of course no bodily harm would befall
+Jane, but she would probably be harried and
+bullied out of those beads. But would she? It
+was not unlikely that she would become a pretty
+handful, once she learned she had been tricked.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span>
+If she balked him, how would the father act? The
+old boy was ruthless when he particularly wanted
+something.</p>
+<p>If anything should happen to her&mdash;an event unlooked
+for, accidental, over which his father would
+have no control&mdash;this note would bring the old
+boy into a peck of trouble; and Dennison was loyal
+enough not to wish this to happen. And yet it
+would be only just to make the father pay once for
+his high-handedness. That would be droll&mdash;to
+see his father in the dock, himself as a witness
+against him! Here was the germ of a tiptop
+drama.</p>
+<p>But all this worry was doubtless being wasted
+upon mere supposition. Jane might turn over
+the beads without bargaining, provided the father
+had any legal right to them, which Dennison
+strongly doubted.</p>
+<p>He approached Ling Foo and seized him roughly
+by the arm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you know about these glass beads?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo elevated a shoulder and let it fall.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing, except that the man who owns them
+demands that I recover them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And who is this man?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know his name.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That won&#8217;t pass. You tell me who he is or
+I&#8217;ll turn you over to the police.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I am an honest man,&#8221; replied Ling Foo with
+dignity. He appealed to the manager.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have known Ling Foo a long time, sir. He
+is perfectly honest.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo nodded. He knew that this recommendation,
+honest as it was, would have weight
+with the American.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you have some appointment with this man.
+Where is that to be? I demand to know that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo saw his jade vanish along with his rainbow
+gold. His early suppositions had been correct.</p>
+<p>Those were devil beads, and evil befell any who
+touched them.</p>
+<p>Silently he cursed the soldier&#8217;s ancestors half a
+thousand years back. If the white fool hadn&#8217;t
+meddled in the parlour that afternoon!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come with me,&#8221; he said, finally.</p>
+<p>The game was played out; the counters had gone
+back to the basket. He had no desire to come
+into contact with police officials. Only it was as
+bitter as the gall of chicken, and he purposed to
+lessen his own discomfort by making the lame
+man share it. Oriental humour.</p>
+<p>Dennison and the hotel manager followed him
+curiously. At the end of the corridor Ling Foo
+stopped and knocked on a door. It was opened
+immediately.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah! Oh!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The inflections touched Dennison&#8217;s sense of
+humour, and he smiled. A greeting with a snap-back
+of dismay.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not surprised,&#8221; he said. &#8220;I had a suspicion
+I&#8217;d find you in this somewhere.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Find me in what?&#8221; asked Cunningham, his
+poise recovered. He, too, began to smile. &#8220;Won&#8217;t
+you come in?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What about these glass beads?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Glass beads? Oh, yes. But why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I fancy you&#8217;d better come out into the clear,
+Cunningham,&#8221; said Dennison, grimly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You wish to know about those beads? Very
+well, I&#8217;ll explain, because something has happened&mdash;I
+know not what. You all look so infernally
+serious. Those beads are a key to a code. The
+British Government is keenly anxious to recover
+this key. In the hands of certain Hindus those
+beads would constitute bad medicine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo spread his hands relievedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is the story. I was to receive five hundred
+gold for their recovery.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A code key,&#8221; said Dennison, musing.</p>
+<p>He knew Cunningham was lying. Anthony
+Cleigh wasn&#8217;t the man to run across half the world
+for a British code key. On the other hand, perhaps
+it would be wise to let the hotel manager and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span>
+the Chinaman continue in the belief that the affair
+concerned a British code.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I did not know you tolerably well&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear captain, you don&#8217;t know me at all,&#8221;
+interrupted Cunningham. &#8220;Have you got the
+beads?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have not. I doubt if you will ever lay eyes
+on them again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Something flashed across the handsome face.
+Ling Foo alone recognized it. He had glimpsed
+it, this expression, outside his window the night
+before. He recalled the dark stain on the floor of
+his shop, and he also recollected a saying of Confucius
+relative to greed. He wished he was back
+in his shop, well out of this muddle. The jade
+could go, valuable as it was. With his hands
+tucked in his sleeves he waited.</p>
+<p>Dennison turned upon the manager. He wanted
+to be alone with Cunningham.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go down and make inquiries, and take this
+Chinaman with you. I&#8217;ll be with you shortly.&#8221;
+As soon as the two were out of the way Dennison
+said: &#8220;Cunningham, the lady who wore those
+beads at dinner to-night has gone out alone, wearing
+them. If I find that you are anywhere back
+of this venture&mdash;if she does not return shortly&mdash;I
+will break you as I would a churchwarden pipe.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham appeared genuinely taken aback.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;She went out alone?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you notified the police?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not yet. I&#8217;m giving her until one; then I
+shall start something.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Something tells me,&#8221; said Cunningham, easily,
+&#8220;that Miss Norman is in no danger. But she
+would never have gone out if I had been in the
+lobby. If she has not returned by one call me.
+Any assistance I can give will be given gladly.
+Women ought never to be mixed up in affairs such
+as this one, on this side of the world. Tell your
+father that he ought to know by this time that he
+is no match for me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean by that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Innocent! You know very well what I mean.
+If you hadn&#8217;t a suspicion of what has happened
+you would be roaring up and down the corridors
+with the police. You run true to the breed. It&#8217;s
+a good one, I&#8217;ll admit. But your father will regret
+this night&#8217;s work.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps. Here, read this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison extended the note. Cunningham,
+his brows bent, ran through the missive.</p>
+<div class='blockquot'>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Miss Norman</span>: Will you do me the honour to meet me
+at the bridgehead at half-past nine&mdash;practically at once?
+My son and I are not on friendly terms. Still, I am his
+father, and I&#8217;d like to hear what he has been doing over here.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span>
+I will have a limousine, and we can ride out on the Bubbling
+Well Road while we talk.</p>
+<div class='ra'>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Anthony Cleigh</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t know,&#8221; said Cunningham, returning
+the note, &#8220;that you two were at odds. But this is
+a devil of a mix-up, if it&#8217;s what I think.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you think?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That he&#8217;s abducted her&mdash;carried her off to the
+yacht.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s no fool,&#8221; was the son&#8217;s defense.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He isn&#8217;t, eh? Lord love you, sonny, your
+father and I are the two biggest fools on all God&#8217;s
+earth!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The door closed sharply in Dennison&#8217;s face and
+the key rasped in the lock.</p>
+<p>For a space Dennison did not stir. Why should
+he wish to protect his father? Between his father
+and this handsome rogue there was small choice.
+The old boy made such rogues possible. But
+supposing Cleigh had wished really to quiz Jane?
+To find out something about these seven years,
+lean and hard, with stretches of idleness and
+stretches of furious labour, loneliness? Well, the
+father would learn that in all these seven years the
+son had never faltered from the high level he had
+set for his conduct. That was a stout staff to lean
+on&mdash;he had the right to look all men squarely in
+the eye.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span></p>
+<p>He had been educated to inherit millions; he had
+not been educated to support himself by work in a
+world that specialized. He had in these seven
+years been a jeweller&#8217;s clerk, an auctioneer in a
+salesroom; he had travelled from Baluchistan to
+Damascus with carpet caravans, but he had never
+forged ahead financially. Generally the end of a
+job had been the end of his resources. One fact
+the thought of which never failed to buck him up&mdash;he
+had never traded on his father&#8217;s name.</p>
+<p>Then had come the war. He had returned to
+America, trained, and they had assigned him to
+Russia. But that had not been without its reward&mdash;he
+had met Jane.</p>
+<p>In a New York bank, to his credit, was the sum
+of twenty thousand dollars, at compound interest
+for seven years, ready to answer to the scratch of a
+pen, but he had sworn he would never touch a
+dollar of it. Never before had the thought of it
+risen so strongly to tempt him. His for the mere
+scratch of a pen!</p>
+<p>In the lobby he found the manager pacing
+nervously, while Ling Foo sat patiently and inscrutably.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why do you wait?&#8221; inquired Dennison, irritably.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The lady has some jade of mine,&#8221; returned
+Ling Foo, placidly. &#8220;It was a grave mistake.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What was?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That you interfered this afternoon. The lady
+would be in her room at this hour. The devil
+beads would not be casting a spell on us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Devil beads, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ling Foo shrugged and ran his hands into his
+sleeves. Somewhere along the banks of the
+Whangpoo or the Yang-tse would be the body of
+an unknown, but Ling Foo&#8217;s lips were locked quite
+as securely as the dead man&#8217;s. Devil beads they
+were.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When did the man upstairs leave the beads
+with you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Last night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For what reason?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He will tell you. It is none of my affair now.&#8221;
+And that was all Dennison could dig out of Ling
+Foo.</p>
+<p>Jane Norman did not return at one o&#8217;clock; in
+fact, she never returned to the Astor House.
+Dennison waited until three; then he went back
+to the Palace, and Ling Foo to his shop and oblivion.</p>
+<p>Dennison decided that he did not want the
+police in the affair. In that event there would be
+a lot of publicity, followed by the kind of talk that
+stuck. He was confident that he could handle the
+affair alone. So he invented a white lie, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span>
+nobody questioned it because of his uniform. Miss
+Norman had found friends, and shortly she would
+send for her effects; but until that time she desired
+the consulate to take charge. Under the eyes of
+the relieved hotel manager and an indifferent clerk
+from the consulate the following morning Dennison
+packed Jane&#8217;s belongings and conveyed them
+to the consulate, which was hard by. Next he
+proceeded to the water front and engaged a motor
+boat. At eleven o&#8217;clock he drew up alongside the
+<i>Wanderer II</i>.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hey, there!&#8221; shouted a seaman. &#8220;Sheer off!
+Orders to receive no visitors!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison began to mount, ignoring the order.
+It was a confusing situation for the sailor. If he
+threw this officer into the yellow water&mdash;as certainly
+he would have thrown a civilian&mdash;Uncle
+Sam might jump on his back and ride him to clink.
+Against this was the old man, the very devil for
+obedience to his orders. If he pushed this lad
+over, the clink; if he let him by, the old man&#8217;s foot.
+And while the worried seaman was reaching for
+water with one hand and wind with the other, as
+the saying goes, Dennison thrust him roughly
+aside, crossed the deck to the main companionway,
+and thundered down into the salon.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Cleigh sat before a card table; he was
+playing Chinese Canfield. He looked up,
+but he neither rose nor dropped the half-spent
+deck of cards he held in his hand. The
+bronzed face, the hard agate blue of the eyes that
+met his own, the utter absence of visible agitation,
+took the wind out of Dennison&#8217;s sails and left him
+all a-shiver, like a sloop coming about on a fresh
+tack. He had made his entrance stormily enough,
+but now the hot words stuffed his throat to choking.</p>
+<p>Cleigh was thirty years older than his son; he
+was a finished master of sentimental emotions;
+he could keep all his thoughts out of his countenance
+when he so willed. But powerful as his will
+was, in this instance it failed to reach down into
+his heart; and that thumped against his ribs
+rather painfully. The boy!</p>
+<p>Dennison, aware that he stood close to the
+ridiculous, broke the spell and advanced.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have come for Miss Norman,&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>Cleigh scrutinized the cards and shifted one.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I found your note to her. I&#8217;ve a launch. I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span>
+don&#8217;t know what the game is, but I&#8217;m going to take
+Miss Norman back with me if I have to break in
+every door on board!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh stood up. As he did so Dodge, the Texan
+appeared in the doorway to the dining salon.
+Dennison saw the blue barrel of a revolver.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A gunman, eh? All right. Let&#8217;s see if he&#8217;ll
+shoot,&#8221; said the son, walking deliberately toward
+Dodge.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Dodge!&#8221; Cleigh called out as the Texan,
+raised the revolver. &#8220;You may go.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dodge, a good deal astonished, backed out.
+Once more father and son stared at each other.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better call it off,&#8221; advised the son. &#8220;You
+can&#8217;t hold Miss Norman&mdash;and I can make a
+serious charge. Bring her at once, or I&#8217;ll go for
+her. And the Lord help the woodwork if I start!&#8221;</p>
+<p>But even as he uttered the threat Dennison
+heard a sound behind. He turned, but not soon
+enough. In a second he was on the floor, three
+husky seamen mauling him. They had their hands
+full for a while, but in the end they conquered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What next, sir?&#8221; asked one of the sailors,
+breathing hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tie him up and lock him in Cabin Two.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The first order was executed. After Dennison&#8217;s
+arms and ankles were bound the men stood him up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you really my father?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span></p>
+<p>Cleigh returned to his cards and shuffled them
+for a new deal.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t untie him. He might walk through
+the partition. He will have the freedom of the
+deck when we are out of the delta.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison was thereupon carried to Cabin Two,
+and deposited upon the stationary bed. He began
+to laugh. There was a sardonic note in this
+laughter, like that which greets you when you recount
+some incredible tale. His old cabin!</p>
+<p>The men shook their heads, as if confronted by
+something so unusual that it wasn&#8217;t worth while
+to speculate upon it. The old man&#8217;s son! They
+went out, locking the door. By this time Dennison&#8217;s
+laughter had reached the level of shouting,
+but only he knew how near it was to tears&mdash;wrathful,
+murderous, miserable tears! He fought his
+bonds terrifically for a moment, then relaxed.</p>
+<p>For seven years he had been hugging the hope
+that when he and his father met blood would tell,
+and that their differences would vanish in a strong
+handclasp; and here he lay, trussed hand and foot,
+in his old cabin, not a crack in that granite lump
+his father called a heart!</p>
+<p>A childish thought! Some day to take that
+twenty thousand with accrued interest, ride up to
+the door, step inside, dump the silver on that old
+red Samarkand, and depart&mdash;forever.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span></p>
+<p>Where was she? This side of the passage or the
+other?</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Norman?&#8221; he called.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221; came almost instantly from the cabin
+aft.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is Captain Dennison. I&#8217;m tied up and
+lying on the bed. Can you hear me distinctly?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Your father has made a prisoner of you?
+Of all the inhuman acts! You came in search of
+me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Naturally. Have you those infernal beads?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison twisted about until he had his shoulders
+against the brass rail of the bed head.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What happened?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was a trick. It was not to talk about
+you&mdash;he wanted the beads, and that made me
+furious.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Were you hurt in the struggle?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There wasn&#8217;t any. I really don&#8217;t know what
+possessed me. Perhaps I was a bit hypnotized.
+Perhaps I was curious. Perhaps I wanted&mdash;some
+excitement. On my word, I don&#8217;t know just what
+happened. Anyhow, here I am&mdash;in a dinner
+gown, bound for Hong-Kong, so he says. He offered
+me ten thousand for the beads, and my freedom,
+if I would promise not to report his high-handedness;
+and I haven&#8217;t uttered a sound.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Heaven on earth, why didn&#8217;t you accept his
+offer?&#8221;</p>
+<p>A moment of silence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the first place, I haven&#8217;t the beads. In the
+second place, I want to make him all the trouble
+I possibly can. Now that he has me, he doesn&#8217;t
+know what to do with me. Hoist by his own
+petard. Do you want the truth? Well, I&#8217;m not
+worried in the least. I feel as if I&#8217;d been invited to
+some splendiferous picnic.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s foolish,&#8221; he remonstrated.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course it is. But it&#8217;s the sort of foolishness
+I&#8217;ve been aching for all my life. I knew something
+was going to happen. I broke my hand mirror
+night before last. Two times seven years&#8217; bad
+luck. Now he has me, I&#8217;ll wager he&#8217;s half frightened
+out of his wits. But what made you think of
+the yacht?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We forced the door of your room, and I found
+the note. Has he told you what makes those infernal
+beads so precious?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. I can&#8217;t figure that out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No more can I. Did he threaten you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Would I enter the launch peacefully, or
+would he have to carry me? I didn&#8217;t want my
+gown spoiled&mdash;it&#8217;s the only decent one I have.
+I&#8217;m not afraid. It isn&#8217;t as though he were a
+stranger. Being your father, he would never
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span>
+stoop to any indignity. But he&#8217;ll find he has
+caught a tartar. I had an idea you&#8217;d find me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I have. But you won&#8217;t get to Hong-Kong.
+The minute he liberates me I&#8217;ll sneak into
+the wireless room and bring the destroyers. I
+didn&#8217;t notify the police from a bit of foolish sentiment.
+I didn&#8217;t quite want you mixed up in the
+story. I had your things conveyed to the consulate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My story&mdash;which few men would believe.
+I&#8217;ve thought of that. Are you smoking?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Smoking, with my hands tied behind my
+back? Not so you&#8217;d notice it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I smell tobacco smoke&mdash;a good cigar, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then someone is in the passage listening.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Silence. Anthony Cleigh eyed his perfecto
+rather ruefully and tiptoed back to the salon.
+Hoist by his own petard. He was beginning to
+wonder. Cleigh was a man who rarely regretted
+an act, but in the clear light of day he was beginning
+to have his doubts regarding this one. A
+mere feather on the wrong side of the scale, and
+the British destroyers would be atop of him like a
+flock of kites. Abduction! Cut down to bedrock,
+he had laid himself open to that. He ran his
+fingers through his cowlicks. But drat the woman!
+why had she accepted the situation so docilely?
+Since midnight not a sound out of her, not a wail,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span>
+not a sob. Now he had her, he couldn&#8217;t let her
+go. She was right there.</p>
+<p>There was one man in the crew Cleigh had begun
+to dislike intensely, and he had been man&oelig;uvring
+ever since Honolulu to find a legitimate excuse to
+give the man his papers. Something about the
+fellow suggested covert insolence; he had the air
+of a beachcomber who had unexpectedly fallen
+into a soft berth, and it had gone to his head. He
+had been standing watch at the ladder head, and
+against positive orders he had permitted a visitor
+to pass him. To Cleigh this was the handle he had
+been hunting for. He summoned the man.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get your duffle,&#8221; said Cleigh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s that, sir?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get your stuff. You&#8217;re through. You had
+positive orders, and you let a man by.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But his uniform fussed me, sir. I didn&#8217;t know
+just how to act.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get your stuff! Mr. Cleve will give you
+your pay. My orders are absolute. Off with
+you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The sailor sullenly obeyed. He found the first
+officer alone in the chart house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The boss has sent me for my pay, Mr. Cleve.
+I&#8217;m fired.&#8221; Flint grinned amiably.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fired? Well, well,&#8221; said Cleve, &#8220;that&#8217;s certainly
+tough luck&mdash;all this way from home. I&#8217;ll
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span>
+have to pay you in Federal Reserve bills. The
+old man has the gold.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Federal Reserve it is. Forty-six dollars in
+Uncle Samuels.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The first officer solemnly counted out the sum
+and laid it on the palm of the discharged man.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tough world.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m not worrying! I&#8217;ll bet you this
+forty-six against ten that I&#8217;ve another job before
+midnight.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mr. Cleve grinned.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Always looking for sure-thing bets! Better
+hail that bumboat with the vegetables to row you
+into town. The old man&#8217;ll dump you over by hand
+if he finds you here between now and sundown.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll try the launch there. Tell the lad his fare
+ain&#8217;t goin&#8217; back to Shanghai. Of course it makes
+it a bit inconvenient, packing and unpacking; but
+I guess I can live through it. But what about the
+woman?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleve plucked at his chin.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Messes up the show a bit. Pippin, though. I
+like &#8217;em when they walk straight and look straight
+like this one. Notice her hair? You never tame
+that sort beyond parlour manners. But I don&#8217;t
+like her on board here, or the young fellow, either.
+Don&#8217;t know him, but he&#8217;s likely to bust the yacht
+wide open if he gets loose.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, so long, Mary! Know what my first
+move&#8217;ll be?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A bottle somewhere. But mind your step!
+Don&#8217;t monkey with the stuff beyond normal. You
+know what I mean.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure! Only a peg or two, after all this psalm-singing!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know, Flint. But this game is no joke.
+You know what happened in town? Morrissy was
+near croaked.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flint&#8217;s face lost some of its gayety.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I know how to handle the stuff! See you
+later.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>Cleigh decided to see what the girl&#8217;s temper was,
+so he entered the passage on the full soles of his
+shoes. He knocked on her door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Norman?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221;</p>
+<p>That was a good sign; she was ready to talk.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have come to repeat that offer.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Cleigh, I have nothing to say so long as the
+key is on the wrong side of the door.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh heard a chuckle from Cabin Two.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Remember, I offered
+you liberty conditionally. If you suffer inconveniences
+after to-night you will have only yourself
+to thank.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you calculated that some day you will
+have to let me go?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I have calculated on that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And that I shall go to the nearest authorities
+and report this action?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you will think a moment,&#8221; said Cleigh, his
+tone monotonously level, &#8220;you will dismiss that
+plan for two reasons: First, that no one will believe
+you; second, that no one will want to believe
+you. That&#8217;s as near as I care to put it. Your
+imagination will grasp it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Instantly!&#8221; cried the girl, hotly. &#8220;I knew you
+to be cold and hard, but I did not believe you were
+a scoundrel&mdash;having known your son!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have no son.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, you have!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I disowned him. He is absolutely nothing to
+me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do not believe that,&#8221; came back through the
+cabin door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nevertheless, it is the truth. The queer part is,
+I&#8217;ve tried to resurrect the father instinct, and can&#8217;t.
+I&#8217;ve tried to go round the wall&mdash;over it. I might
+just as well try to climb the Upper Himalayas.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In Cabin Two the son stared at the white ceiling.
+It seemed to him that all his vitals had been
+wrenched out of him, leaving him hollow, empty.
+He knew his father&#8217;s voice; it rang with truth.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I offer you ten thousand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The key is still on the outside.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m afraid to trust you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We understand each other perfectly,&#8221; said
+Jane, ironically.</p>
+<p>The son smiled. The sense of emptiness vanished,
+and there came into his blood a warmth as
+sweet as it was strong. Jane Norman, angel of
+mercy. He heard his father speaking again:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Since you will have it so, you will go to Hong-Kong?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To Patagonia if you wish! You cannot scare
+me by threatening me with travel on a private
+yacht. I had the beads, it is true; but at this
+moment I haven&#8217;t the slightest idea where they
+are; and if I had I should not tell you. I refuse to
+buy my liberty; you will have to give it to me without
+conditions.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry I haven&#8217;t anything on board in shape
+of women&#8217;s clothes, but I&#8217;ll send for your stuff if
+you wish.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is the single consideration you have
+shown me. My belongings are at the American
+consulate, and I should be glad to have
+them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You will find paper and ink in the escritoire.
+Write me an order and I promise to attend to the
+matter personally.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And search through everything at your
+leisure!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh blushed, and he heard his son chuckle
+again. He had certainly caught a tartar&mdash;possibly
+two. With a twisted smile he recalled the old yarn
+of the hunter who caught the bear by the tail.
+Willing to let go, and daring not!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Still I agree,&#8221; continued the girl. &#8220;I want
+my own familiar things&mdash;if I must take this
+forced voyage. But mark me, Mr. Cleigh, you
+will pay some day! I&#8217;m not the clinging kind, and
+I shall fight you tooth and nail from the first hour
+of my freedom. I&#8217;m not without friends.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never in this world!&#8221; came resonantly from
+Cabin Two.</p>
+<p>Cleigh longed to get away. There was a
+rumbling and a threatening inside of him that
+needed space&mdash;Gargantuan laughter. Not the
+clinging kind, this girl! And the boy, walking
+straight at Dodge&#8217;s villainous revolver! Why, he
+would need the whole crew behind him when he
+liberated these two! But he knew that the
+laughter striving for articulation was not the kind
+heard in Elysian fields!</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you will write the order I will execute it at
+once. The consulate closes early.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll write it, but how will I get it to you?
+The door closes below the sill.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;When you are ready, call, and I will open the
+door a little.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It would be better if you opened it full wide.
+This is China&mdash;I understand that. But we are
+both Americans, and there&#8217;s a good sound law
+covering an act like this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But it does not reach as far as China. Besides,
+I have an asset back in the States. It is my word.
+I have never broken it to any man or woman, and I
+expect I never shall. You have, or have had, what
+I consider my property. You have hedged the
+question; you haven&#8217;t been frank.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The son listened intently.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I bought that string of glass beads in good
+faith of a Chinaman&mdash;Ling Foo. I consider them
+mine&mdash;that is, if they are still in my possession.
+Between the hour I met you last night and the
+moment of Captain Dennison&#8217;s entrance to my
+room considerable time had elapsed.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Sufficient for a rogue like Cunningham to
+make good use of,&#8221; supplemented the prisoner in
+Cabin Two. &#8220;There&#8217;s a way of finding out the
+facts.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. You used to carry a planchette that once
+belonged to the actress Rachel. Why not give it
+a whirl? Everybody&#8217;s doing it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh eyed Cabin Four, then Cabin Two, and
+shook his head slightly, dubiously. He was not getting
+on well. To come into contact with a strong
+will was always acceptable; and a strong will in a
+woman was a novelty. All at once it struck him
+forcibly that he stood on the edge of boredom; that
+the lure which had brought him fully sixteen
+thousand miles was losing its bite. Was he growing
+old, drying up?</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you tell me what it is about these beads
+that makes you offer ten thousand for them?
+Glass&mdash;anybody could see that. What makes
+them as valuable as pearls?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They are love beads,&#8221; answered Cleigh, mockingly.
+&#8220;They are far more potent than powdered
+pearls. You have worn them about your throat,
+Miss Norman, and the sequence is inevitable.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense!&#8221; cried Jane.</p>
+<p>Dennison added his mite to the confusion:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought that scoundrel Cunningham was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span>
+lying. He said the string was a code key belonging
+to the British Intelligence Office.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rot!&#8221; Cleigh exploded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So I thought.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But hurry, Miss Norman. The sooner I have
+that written order on the consulate the sooner
+you&#8217;ll have your belongings.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Five minutes later she announced that the
+order was completed, and Cleigh opened the door
+slightly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The key will be given you the moment we
+weigh anchor.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I say,&#8221; called the son, &#8220;you might drop into
+the Palace and get my truck, too. I&#8217;m particular
+about my toothbrushes.&#8221; A pause. &#8220;I&#8217;d like a
+drink, too&mdash;if you&#8217;ve got the time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh did not answer, but he presently entered
+Cabin Two, filled a glass with water, raised his
+son&#8217;s head to a proper angle, and gave him drink.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks. This business strikes me as the
+funniest thing I ever heard of! You would have
+done that for a dog.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh replaced the water carafe in the rack
+above the wash bowl and went out, locking the
+door. In the salon he called for Dodge:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am going into town. I&#8217;ll be back round
+five. Don&#8217;t stir from this cabin.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You remember that fellow who was here night
+before last?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The good-looking chap that limped?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I&#8217;m to crease him if he pokes his noodle
+down the stairs?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Exactly! No talk, no palaver! If he starts
+talking he&#8217;ll talk you out of your boots. Shoot!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the leg? All right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>His employer having gone, Dodge sat in a corner
+from which he could see the companionway and
+all the passages. He lit a long black cigar, laid his
+formidable revolver on a knee, and began his vigil.
+A queer job for an old cow-punch, for a fact.</p>
+<p>To guard an old carpet that didn&#8217;t have &#8220;welcome&#8221;
+on it anywhere&mdash;he couldn&#8217;t get that, none
+whatever. But there was a hundred a week, the
+best grub pile in the world, and the old man&#8217;s
+Havanas as often as he pleased. Pretty soft!</p>
+<p>And he had learned a new trick&mdash;shooting
+target in a rolling sea. He had wasted a hundred
+rounds before getting the hang of it. Maybe
+these sailors hadn&#8217;t gone pop-eyed when they saw
+him pumping lead into the bull&#8217;s-eye six times
+running? Tin cans and raw potatoes in the
+water, too. Something to brag about if he ever
+got back home.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span></p>
+<p>He broke the gun and inspected the cylinder.
+There wasn&#8217;t as much grease on the cartridges as
+he would have liked.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>&#8220;Miss Norman?&#8221; called Dennison.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you comfortable?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m all right. I&#8217;m only furious with rage,
+that&#8217;s all. You are still tied?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, ma&#8217;am.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I really don&#8217;t understand your father.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have never understood him. Yet he was
+very kind to me when I was little. I don&#8217;t suppose
+there is anything in heaven or on earth that
+he&#8217;s afraid of.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He is afraid of me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you believe that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know it. He would give anything to be rid
+of me. But go on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;With what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your past.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;m something like him physically. We
+are both so strong that we generally burst through
+rather than take the trouble to go round. I&#8217;m
+honestly sorry for him. Not a human being to
+love or be loved by. He never had a dog. I don&#8217;t
+recollect my mother; she died when I was three;
+and that death had something to do with the iron
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span>
+in his soul. Our old butler used to tell me that
+Father cursed horribly, I mean blasphemously,
+when they took the mother out of the house.
+There are some men like that, who love terribly,
+away and beyond the average human ability.
+After the mother died he plunged into the money
+game. He was always making it, piling it up ruthlessly
+but honestly. Then that craving petered
+out, and he took a hand in the collecting game.
+What will come next I don&#8217;t know. As a boy I
+was always afraid of him. He was kind to me, but
+in the abstract. I was like an extra on the
+grocer&#8217;s bill. He put me into the hands of a tutor&mdash;a
+lovable old dreamer&mdash;and paid no more
+attention to me. He never put his arms round
+me and told me fairy stories.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Poor little boy! No fairy stories!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nary a one until I began to have playmates.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do the ropes hurt?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They might if I were alone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you make of the beads?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only that they have some strange value, or
+father wouldn&#8217;t be after them. Love beads!
+Doesn&#8217;t sound half so plausible as Cunningham&#8217;s
+version.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That handsome man who limped?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A real adventurer&mdash;the sort one reads about!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And the queer thing about him, he keeps his
+word, too, for all his business is a shady one. I
+don&#8217;t suppose there is a painting or a jewel or a
+book of the priceless sort that he doesn&#8217;t know
+about, where it is and if it can be got at. Some of
+his deals are aboveboard, but many of them aren&#8217;t.
+I&#8217;ll wager these beads have a story of loot.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What he steals doesn&#8217;t hurt the poor.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So long as the tigers fight among themselves
+and leave the goats alone, it doesn&#8217;t stir you. Is
+that it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Possibly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And besides, he&#8217;s a handsome beggar, if there
+ever was one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He has the face of an angel!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the soul of a vandal!&#8221;&mdash;with a touch of
+irritability.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now you aren&#8217;t fair. A vandal destroys
+things; this man only transfers&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For a handsome monetary consideration&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only transfers a picture from one gallery to
+another.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, we&#8217;ve seen the last of him for a while,
+anyhow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wonder.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you answer me a question?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know where those beads are?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;A little while gone I smelt tobacco smoke,&#8221; she
+answered, dryly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see. We&#8217;ll talk of something else then.
+Have you ever been in love?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Violently&mdash;so I believed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you got over it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Absolutely! And you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I haven&#8217;t had the time. I&#8217;ve been too
+busy earning bread and butter. What was she
+like?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A beautiful mirage&mdash;the lie in the desert, you
+might say. Has it ever occurred to you that the
+mirage is the one lie Nature utters?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hadn&#8217;t thought. She deceived you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A short duration of silence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Doesn&#8217;t hurt to talk about her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lord, no! Because I wasn&#8217;t given fairy
+stories when I was little, I took them seriously
+when I was twenty-three.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Puppy love.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It went a little deeper than that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you don&#8217;t hate women?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. I never hated the woman who deceived
+me. I was terribly sorry for her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For having lost so nice a husband?&#8221;&mdash;with a
+bit of malice.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span></p>
+<p>He greeted this with laughter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is written,&#8221; she observed, &#8220;that we must
+play the fool sometime or other.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you ever played it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not yet, but you never can tell.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jane, you&#8217;re a brick!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jane!&#8221; she repeated. &#8220;Well, I don&#8217;t suppose
+there&#8217;s any harm in your calling me that, with
+partitions in between.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They used to call me Denny.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you want me to call you that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll think it over&mdash;Denny!&#8221;</p>
+<p>They laughed. Both recognized the basic fact
+in this running patter. Each was trying to buck
+up the other. Jane was honestly worried. She
+could not say what it was that worried her, but
+there was a strong leaven in her of old-wives&#8217;
+prescience. It wasn&#8217;t due to this high-handed
+adventure of Cleigh, senior; it was something
+leaning down darkly from the future that worried
+her. That hand mirror!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better not talk any more,&#8221; she advised.
+&#8220;You&#8217;ll be getting thirsty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m already that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a brave man, captain,&#8221; she said, her
+tone altering from gayety to seriousness. &#8220;Don&#8217;t
+worry about me. I&#8217;ve always been able to take
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span>
+care of myself, though I&#8217;ve never been confronted
+with this kind of a situation before. Frankly, I
+don&#8217;t like it. But I suspect that your father will
+have more respect for us if we laugh at him. Has
+he a sense of humour?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My word for it, he has! What could be more
+humorous than tying me up in this fashion and
+putting me in the cabin that used to be mine?
+Ten thousand for a string of glass beads! I say,
+Jane!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;When he comes back tell him you might consider
+twenty thousand, just to get an idea what the
+thing is worth.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll promise that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. Then I&#8217;ll try to snooze a bit.
+Getting stuffy lying on my back.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The brute! If I could only help you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You have&mdash;you are&mdash;you will!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He turned on his side, his face toward the door.
+His arms and legs began to sting with the sensation
+known as sleep. He was glad his father had overheard
+the initial conversation. A wave of terror
+ran over him at the thought of being set ashore
+while Jane went on. Still he could have sent a
+British water terrier in hot pursuit.</p>
+<p>Jane sat down and took inventory. She knew
+but little about antiques&mdash;rugs and furniture&mdash;but
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span>
+she was full of inherent love of the beautiful.
+The little secretary upon which she had written
+the order on the consulate was an exquisite lowboy
+of old mahogany of dull finish. On the floor were
+camel saddle-bays, Persian in pattern. On the
+panel over the lowboy was a small painting, a foot
+broad and a foot and a half long. It was old&mdash;she
+could tell that much. It was a portrait,
+tender and quaint. She would have gasped had
+she known that it was worth a cover of solid
+gold. It was a Holbein, The Younger, for
+which Cleigh some years gone had paid Cunningham
+sixteen thousand dollars. Where and how
+Cunningham had acquired it was not open
+history.</p>
+<p>An hour passed. By and by she rose and tiptoed
+to the partition. She held her ear against
+the panel, and as she heard nothing she concluded
+that Denny&mdash;why not?&mdash;was asleep. Next she
+gazed out of the port. It was growing dark outside,
+overcast. It would rain again probably. A
+drab sky, a drab shore. She saw a boat filled with
+those luscious vegetables which wrote typhus for
+any white person who ate them. A barge went by
+piled high with paddy bags&mdash;rice in the husk&mdash;with
+Chinamen at the forward and stern sweeps.
+She wondered if these poor yellow people had ever
+known what it was to play?
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span></p>
+<p>Suddenly she fell back, shocked beyond measure.
+From the direction of the salon&mdash;a pistol shot!
+This was followed by the tramp of hurrying feet.
+Voices, now sharp, now rumbling&mdash;this grew
+nearer. A struggle of some dimensions was going
+on in the passage. The racket reached her door,
+but did not pause there. She sank into the chair,
+a-tremble.</p>
+<p>Dennison struggled to a sitting posture.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jane?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you all right?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, what has happened?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A bit of mutiny, I take it; but it seems to be
+over.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But the shot!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I heard no cry of pain, only a lot of scuffling
+and some high words. Don&#8217;t worry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t. Can&#8217;t you break a piece of glass and
+saw your way out?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lord love you, that&#8217;s movie stuff! If I had a
+razor, I couldn&#8217;t manage it without hacking off my
+hands. You are worried!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m a woman, Denny. I&#8217;m not afraid of your
+father; but if there is mutiny, with all these
+treasures on board&mdash;and over here&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. I&#8217;ll make a real effort.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She could hear him stumbling about. She
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span>
+heard the crash of the water carafe on the floor.
+Several minutes dragged by.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t be done!&#8221; said Dennison. &#8220;Can&#8217;t
+make the broken glass stay put. Can&#8217;t reach my
+ankles, either, or I could get my feet free. There&#8217;s
+a double latch on your door. See to it! Lord!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing. Just hunting round for some cuss
+words. Put the chair up against the door knob
+and sit tight for a while.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The hours dragged by in stifling silence.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, Cleigh, having attended to errands,
+lunched, had gone to the American consulate and
+presented the order. His name and reputation
+cleared away the official red tape. He explained
+that all the fuss of the night before had been without
+cause. Miss Norman had come aboard the
+yacht, and now decided to go to Hong-Kong with
+the family. This suggested the presence of other
+women on board. In the end, Jane&#8217;s worldly
+goods were consigned to Cleigh, who signed the
+receipt and made off for the launch.</p>
+<p>It was growing dark. On the way down the
+river Cleigh made no attempt to search for the
+beads.</p>
+<p>The salon lights snapped up as the launch drew
+alongside. Once below, Cleigh dumped Jane&#8217;s
+possessions into the nearest chair and turned to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span>
+give Dodge an order&mdash;only to find the accustomed
+corner vacant!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dodge!&#8221; he shouted. He ran to the passage.
+&#8220;Dodge, where the devil are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you call, sir?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh spun about. In the doorway to the
+dining salon stood Cunningham, on his amazingly
+handsome face an expression of anxious solicitude!</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Cleigh was not only a big and powerful
+man&mdash;he was also courageous, but the
+absence of Dodge and the presence of
+Cunningham offered such sinister omen that
+temporarily he was bereft of his natural wit and
+initiative.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where&#8217;s Dodge?&#8221; he asked, stupidly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dodge is resting quietly,&#8221; answered Cunningham,
+gravely. &#8220;He&#8217;ll be on his feet in a day or
+two.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That seemed to wake up Cleigh a bit. He drew
+his automatic.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Face to the wall, or I&#8217;ll send a bullet into
+you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham shook his head.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you examine the clip this morning?
+When you carry weapons like that for protection
+never put it in your pocket without a look-see.
+Dodge wouldn&#8217;t have made your mistake. Shoot!
+Try it on the floor, or up through the lights&mdash;or at
+me if you&#8217;d like that better. The clip is empty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mechanically Cleigh took aim and bore against
+the trigger. There was no explosion. A
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span>
+depressing sense of unreality rolled over the <i>Wanderer&#8217;s</i>
+owner.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you went into town for her luggage? Did
+you find the beads?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh made a negative sign. It was less an
+answer to Cunningham than an acknowledgment
+that he could not understand why the bullet clip
+should be empty.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was an easy risk,&#8221; explained Cunningham.
+&#8220;You carried the gun, but I doubt you ever
+looked it over. Having loaded it once upon a
+time, you believed that was sufficient, eh? Know
+what I think? The girl has hidden the beads in
+her hair. Did you search her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Again Cleigh shook his head, as much over the
+situation as over the question.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What, you ran all this risk and hadn&#8217;t the
+nerve to search her? Well, that&#8217;s rich! Unless
+you&#8217;ve read her from my book. She would
+probably have scratched out your eyes. There&#8217;s
+an Amazon locked up in that graceful body. I&#8217;d
+like to see her head against a bit of clear blue sky&mdash;a
+touch of Henner blues and reds. What a whale
+of a joke! Abduct a young woman, risk prison,
+and then afraid to lay hands on her! You poor old
+piker!&#8221; Cunningham laughed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cunningham&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, I&#8217;ll be merciful. To make a long
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span>
+story short, it means that for the present I am in
+command of this yacht. I warned you. Will you
+be sensible, or shall I have to lock you up like
+your two-gun man from Texas?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Piracy!&#8221; cried Cleigh, coming out of his maze.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maritime law calls it that, but it isn&#8217;t really.
+No pannikins of rum, no fifteen men on a dead
+man&#8217;s chest. Parlour stuff, you might call it.
+The whole affair&mdash;the parlour side of it&mdash;depends
+upon whether you purpose to act philosophically
+under stress or kick up a hullabaloo. In the latter
+event you may reasonably expect some rough
+stuff. Truth is, I&#8217;m only borrowing the yacht
+as far as latitude ten degrees and longitude one
+hundred and ten degrees, off Catwick Island.
+You carry a boson&#8217;s whistle at the end of your
+watch chain. Blow it!&#8221; was the challenge.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bid me blow it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only to convince you how absolutely helpless
+you are,&#8221; said Cunningham, amiably. &#8220;Yesterday
+this day&#8217;s madness did prepare, as our old
+friend Omar used to say. Vedder did great work on
+that, didn&#8217;t he? Toot the whistle, for shortly we
+shall weigh anchor.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Like a man in a dream, Cleigh got out his
+whistle. The first blast was feeble and windy.
+Cunningham grinned.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Blow it, man, blow it!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></p>
+<p>Cleigh set the whistle between his lips and blew
+a blast that must have been heard half a mile
+away.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s something like! Now we&#8217;ll have results!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Above, on deck, came the scuffle of hurrying
+feet, and immediately&mdash;as if they had been prepared
+against this moment&mdash;three fourths of the
+crew came tumbling down the companionway.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Seize this man!&#8221; shouted Cleigh, thunderously,
+as he indicated Cunningham.</p>
+<p>The men, however, fell into line and came to
+attention. Most of them were grinning.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you hear me? Brown, Jessup, McCarthy&mdash;seize
+this man!&#8221;</p>
+<p>No one stirred. Cleigh then lost his head.
+With a growl he sprang toward Cunningham.
+Half the crew jumped instantly into the gap between,
+and they were no longer grinning. Cunningham
+pushed aside the human wall and faced
+the <i>Wanderer&#8217;s</i> owner.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you begin to understand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No! But whatever your game is, it will prove
+bad business for you in the end. And you men,
+too. The world has grown mighty small, and
+you&#8217;ll find it hard to hide&mdash;unless you kill me and
+have done with it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tut, tut! Wouldn&#8217;t harm a hair of your
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span>
+head. The world is small, as you say, but just at
+this moment infernally busy mopping up. What,
+bother about a little dinkum dinkus like this, with
+Russia mad, Germany ugly, France grumbling at
+England, Italy shaking her fist at Greece, and
+labour making a monkey of itself? Nay! I&#8217;ll
+shift the puzzle so you can read it. When the
+yacht was released from auxiliary duties she was
+without a crew. The old crew, that of peace times,
+was gone utterly, with the exception of four. You
+had the yacht keelhauled, gave her another daub
+of war paint and set about to find a crew. And I
+had one especially picked for you! Ordinarily,
+you&#8217;ve a tolerably keen eye. Didn&#8217;t it strike you
+odd to land a crew who talked more or less grammatically,
+who were clean bodily, who weren&#8217;t
+boozers?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh, fully alive now, coldly ran his inspecting
+glance over the men. He had never before given
+their faces any particular attention. Besides, this
+was the first time he had seen so many of them at
+once. During boat drill they had been divided
+into four squads. Young faces, lean and hard
+some of them, but reckless rather than bad. All
+of them at this moment appeared to be enjoying
+some huge joke.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can only repeat,&#8221; said Cleigh, &#8220;that you are
+all playing with dynamite.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps. Most of these boys fought in the
+war; they played the game; but when they returned
+nobody had any use for them. I caught
+them on the rebound, when they were a bit desperate.
+We formed a company&mdash;but of that more
+anon. Will you be my guest, or will you be my
+prisoner?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The velvet fell away from Cunningham&#8217;s voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have I any choice? I&#8217;ll accept the condition
+because I must. But I&#8217;ve warned you. I suppose
+I&#8217;d better ask at once what the ransom is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ransom? Not a copper cent! You can make
+Singapore in two days from the Catwick.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And for helping me into Singapore I&#8217;m to agree
+not to hand such men as you leave me over to the
+British authorities?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All wrong! The men who will help you into
+Singapore or take you to Manila will be as innocent
+as newborn babes. Wouldn&#8217;t believe it,
+would you, but I&#8217;m one of those efficiency sharks.
+Nothing left to chance; all cut and dried; pluperfect.
+Cleigh, I never break my word. I honestly
+intended turning over those beads to you,
+but Morrissy muddled the play.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Next door to murder.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Near enough, but he&#8217;ll pull out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you going to take Miss Norman along?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What, set her ashore to sic the British Navy
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span>
+on us? I&#8217;m sorry. I don&#8217;t want her on board;
+but that was your play, not mine. You tried to
+double-cross me. But you need have no alarm. I
+will kill the man who touches her. You understand
+that, boys?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The crew signified that the order was understood,
+though one of them&mdash;the returned Flint&mdash;smiled
+cynically. If Cunningham noted the smile
+he made no verbal comment upon it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Weigh anchor, then! Look alive! The sooner
+we nose down to the delta the sooner we&#8217;ll have the
+proper sea room.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The crew scurried off, and almost at once came
+familiar sounds&mdash;the rattle of the anchor chain on
+the windlass, the creaking of pulley blocks as the
+launch came aboard, the thud of feet hither and
+yon as portables were stowed or lashed to the
+deck-house rail. For several minutes Cleigh and
+Cunningham remained speechless and motionless.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You get all the angles?&#8221; asked Cunningham,
+finally.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Some of them,&#8221; admitted Cleigh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;At any rate, enough to make you accept a bad
+situation with good grace?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a foolhardy man, Cunningham. Do
+you expect me to lie down when this play is over?
+I solemnly swear to you that I&#8217;ll spend the rest of
+my days hunting you down.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And I solemnly swear that you shan&#8217;t catch
+me. I&#8217;m through with the old game of playing the
+genie in the bottle for predatory millionaires.
+Henceforth I&#8217;m on my own. I&#8217;m romantic&mdash;yes,
+sir&mdash;I&#8217;m romantic from heel to cowlick; and now
+I&#8217;m going to give rein to this stifled longing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You will come to a halter round your neck. I
+have always paid your price on the nail, Cunningham.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You had to. Hang it, passions are the very
+devil, aren&#8217;t they? Sooner or later one jumps
+upon your back and rides you like the Old Man of
+the Sea.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh heard the rumble of steam.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Objects of art!&#8221; went on Cunningham. &#8220;It
+eats into your vitals to hear that some rival has
+picked up a Correggio or an ancient Kirman or a
+bit of Persian plaque. You talk of halters. Lord
+lumme, how obliquely you look at facts! Take
+that royal Persian there&mdash;the second-best animal
+rug on earth&mdash;is there no murder behind the woof
+and warp of it? What? Talk sense, Cleigh, talk
+sense! You cable me: Get such and such. I
+get it. What the devil do you care how it was got,
+so long as it eventually becomes yours? It&#8217;s a
+case of the devil biting his own tail&mdash;pot calling
+kettle black.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How much do you want?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Cleigh, it&#8217;s the romantic idea.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will give you fifty thousand for the rug.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry. No use now of telling you the plot;
+you wouldn&#8217;t believe me, as the song goes. Dinner
+at seven. Will you dine in the salon with me,
+or will you dine in the solemn grandeur of your own
+cabin, in company with Da Vinci, Teniers, and that
+Carlo Dolci the Italian Government has been hunting
+high and low for?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will risk the salon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To keep an eye on me as long as possible.
+That&#8217;s fair enough. You heard what I said to
+those boys. Well, every mother&#8217;s son of &#8217;em will
+toe the mark. There will be no change at all in
+the routine. Simply we lay a new course that
+will carry us outside and round Formosa, down to
+the South Sea and across to the Catwick. I&#8217;ll
+give you one clear idea. A million and immunity
+would not stir me, Cleigh.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the game&mdash;if it&#8217;s beyond ransom?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham laughed boyishly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s big, and you&#8217;ll laugh, too, when I tell you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;On which side of the mouth?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s up to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it the rug?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, that, of course! I warned you that I&#8217;d
+come for the rug. It took two years out of my
+young life to get that for you, and it has always
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span>
+haunted me. I just told you about passions,
+didn&#8217;t I? Once on your back, they ride you like
+the devil&mdash;down-hill.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A crook.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There you go again&mdash;pot calling kettle black!
+If you want to moralize, where&#8217;s the line between
+the thief and the receiver? Fie on you! Dare
+you hang that Da Vinci, that Dolci, that Holbein
+in your gallery home? No! Stolen goods. What
+a passion! You sail across the seas alone, alone
+because you can&#8217;t satisfy your passion and have
+knowing companions on board. When the yacht
+goes out of commission you store the loot, and
+tremble when you hear a fire alarm. All right.
+Dinner at seven. I&#8217;ll go and liberate your son and
+the lady.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cunningham, I will kill you out of hand the
+very first chance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Old dear, I&#8217;ll add a fact for your comfort.
+There will be guns on board, but half an hour
+gone all the ammunition was dumped into the
+Whangpoo. So you won&#8217;t have anything but
+your boson&#8217;s whistle. You&#8217;re a bigger man than I
+am physically, and I&#8217;ve a slue-foot, a withered leg;
+but I&#8217;ve all the barroom tricks you ever heard of.
+So don&#8217;t make any mistakes in that direction.
+You are free to come and go as you please; but the
+moment you start any rough house, into your
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span>
+cabin you go, and you&#8217;ll stay there until we raise
+the Catwick. You haven&#8217;t a leg to stand on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham lurched out of the salon and into
+the passage. He opened the door to Cabin Two
+and turned on the light. Dennison blinked
+stupidly. Cunningham liberated him and stood
+back.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dinner at seven.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What the devil are you doing on board?&#8221;
+asked Dennison, thickly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, here&#8217;s gratitude for you! But in order
+that there will be no misunderstanding, I&#8217;ve turned
+to piracy for a change. Great sport! I&#8217;ve chartered
+the yacht for a short cruise.&#8221; His banter
+turned into cold, precise tones. Cunningham
+went on: &#8220;No nonsense, captain! I put this
+crew on board away back in New York. Those
+beads, though having a merit of their own, were
+the lure to bring your father to these parts.
+Your presence and Miss Norman&#8217;s are accidents
+for which I am genuinely sorry. But frankly, I
+dare not turn you loose. That&#8217;s the milk in the
+cocoanut. I grant you the same privileges as I
+grant your father, which he has philosophically
+agreed to accept. Your word of honour to take it
+sensibly, and the freedom of the yacht is yours.
+Otherwise, I&#8217;ll lock you up in a place not half so
+comfortable as this.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Piracy!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir. These are strangely troubled days.
+We&#8217;ve slumped morally. Humanity has been
+on the big kill, with the result that the tablets
+of Moses have been busted up something fierce.
+And here we are again, all kotowing to the
+Golden Calf! All I need is your word&mdash;the word
+of a Cleigh.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I give it.&#8221; Dennison gave his word so that he
+might be free to protect the girl in the adjoining
+cabin. &#8220;But conditionally.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That the young lady shall at all times be
+treated with the utmost respect. You will have to
+kill me otherwise.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;These Cleighs! All right. That happens to
+be my own order to the crew. Any man who
+breaks it will pay heavily.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the game?&#8221; asked Dennison, rubbing
+his wrists tenderly while he balanced unsteadily
+upon his aching legs.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Later! I&#8217;ll let Miss Norman out. That&#8217;s so&mdash;her
+things are in the salon. I&#8217;ll get them, but
+I&#8217;ll unlock her door first.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What in heaven&#8217;s name has happened?&#8221; asked
+Jane as she and Dennison stood alone in the passage.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Lord knows!&#8221; gloomily. &#8220;But that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span>
+scoundrel Cunningham has planted a crew of his
+own on board, and we are all prisoners.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cunningham?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The chap with the limp.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;With the handsome face? But this is piracy!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;About the size of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I knew something was going to happen!
+But a pirate! Surely it must be a joke?&#8221;</p>
+<p>So it was&mdash;probably the most colossal joke that
+ever flowered in the mind of a man. The devil
+must have shouted and the gods must have held
+their sides, for it took either a devil or a god to
+understand the joke.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>That first dinner would always remain
+vivid and clear-cut in Jane Norman&#8217;s
+mind. It was fantastic. To begin with,
+there was that picturesque stone image at the
+head of the table&mdash;Cleigh&mdash;who appeared utterly
+oblivious of his surroundings, who ate with apparent
+relish, and who ignored both men, his son and
+his captor. Once or twice Jane caught his glance&mdash;a
+blue eye, sharp-pupiled, agate-hard. But
+what was it she saw&mdash;a twinkle or a sparkle? The
+breadth of his shoulders! He must be very
+powerful, like the son. Why, the two of them
+could have pulverized this pretty fellow opposite!</p>
+<p>Father and son! For seven years they had not
+met. Their indifference seemed so inhuman! Still,
+she fancied that the son dared not make any
+approach, however much he may have longed to.
+A woman! They had quarrelled over a woman!
+Something reached down from the invisible and
+pinched her heart.</p>
+<p>All this while Cunningham had been talking&mdash;banter.
+The blade would flash toward the father
+or whirl upon the son, or it would come toward
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span>
+her by the handle. She could not get away from
+the initial idea&mdash;that his eyes were like fire opals.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Norman, you have very beautiful hair.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You think so?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It looks like Judith&#8217;s. You remember, Cleigh,
+the one that hangs in the Pitti Galleria in Florence&mdash;Allori&#8217;s?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh reached for a piece of bread, which he
+broke and buttered.</p>
+<p>Cunningham turned to Jane again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you do me the favour of taking out the
+hairpins and loosing it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No!&#8221; said Dennison.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221; said Jane, smiling bravely enough,
+though there ran over her spine a chill.</p>
+<p>It wasn&#8217;t Cunningham&#8217;s request&mdash;it was Dennison&#8217;s
+refusal. That syllable, though spoken moderately,
+was the essence of battle, murder, and sudden
+death. If they should clash it would mean
+that Denny&mdash;how easy it was to call him that!&mdash;Denny
+would be locked up and she would be all
+alone. For the father seemed as aloof and remote
+as the pole.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You shall not do it!&#8221; declared Dennison.
+&#8220;Cunningham, if you force her I will break every
+bone in your body here and now!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh selected an olive and began munching it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense!&#8221; cried Jane. &#8220;It&#8217;s all awry
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span>
+anyhow.&#8221; And she began to extract the hairpins.
+Presently she shook her head, and the ruddy mass
+of hair fell and rippled across and down her
+shoulders.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; she said, looking whimsically into
+Cunningham&#8217;s eyes. &#8220;It wasn&#8217;t there, was it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>This tickled Cunningham.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a woman in a million! You read my
+thought perfectly. I like ready wit in a woman.
+I had to find out. You see, I had promised those
+beads to Cleigh, and when I humanly can I keep
+my promises. Sit down, captain!&#8221; For Dennison
+had risen to his feet. &#8220;Sit down! Don&#8217;t
+start anything you can&#8217;t finish.&#8221; To Jane there
+was in the tone a quality which made her compare
+it with the elder Cleigh&#8217;s eyes&mdash;agate-hard. &#8220;You
+are younger and stronger, and no doubt you could
+break me. But the moment my hand is withdrawn
+from this business&mdash;the moment I am off
+the board&mdash;I could not vouch for the crew. They
+are more or less decent chaps, or they were before
+this damned war stood humanity on its head.
+We wear the same clothes, use the same phrases;
+but we&#8217;ve been thrust back a thousand years.
+And Miss Norman is a woman. You understand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison sat down.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;d better kill me somewhere along this
+voyage.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I may have to. Who knows? There&#8217;s no
+real demarcation between comedy and tragedy;
+it&#8217;s the angle of vision. It&#8217;s rough medicine,
+this; but your father has agreed to take it sensibly,
+because he knows me tolerably well. Still, it will
+not do him any good to plan bribery. Buy the
+crew, Cleigh, if you believe you can. You&#8217;ll waste
+your time. I do not pretend to hold them by
+loyalty. I hold them by fear. Act sensibly, all
+of you, and this will be a happy family. For after
+all, it&#8217;s a joke, a whale of a joke. And some day
+you&#8217;ll smile over it&mdash;even you, Cleigh.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh pressed the steward&#8217;s button.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The jam and the cheese, Togo,&#8221; he said to the
+Jap.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yess, sair!&#8221;</p>
+<p>A hysterical laugh welled into Jane&#8217;s throat, but
+she did not permit it to escape her lips. She began
+to build up her hair clumsily, because her hands
+trembled.</p>
+<p>Adventure! She thrilled! She had read somewhere
+that after seven thousand years of tortuous
+windings human beings had formed about themselves
+a thin shell which they called civilization.
+And always someone was breaking through and
+retracing those seven thousand years. Here was
+an example in Cunningham. Only a single step
+was necessary. It took seven thousand years to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span>
+build your shell, and only a minute to destroy it.
+There was something fascinating in the thought.
+A reckless spirit pervaded Jane, a longing to burst
+through this shell of hers and ride the thunderbolt.
+Monotony&mdash;that had been her portion, and only
+her dreams had kept her from withering. From
+the house to the hospital and back home again,
+days, weeks, years. She had begun to hate white;
+her soul thirsted for colour, movement, thrill.
+The call that had been walled in, suppressed,
+broke through. Piracy on high seas, and Jane
+Norman in the cast!</p>
+<p>She was not in the least afraid of the whimsical
+rogue opposite. He was more like an uninvited
+dinner guest. Perhaps this lack of fear had its
+origin in the oily smoothness by which the yacht
+had changed hands. Beyond the subjugation of
+Dodge, there had not been a ripple of commotion.
+It was too early to touch the undercurrents. All
+this lulled and deceived her. Piracy? Where
+were the cutlasses, the fierce moustaches, the red
+bandannas, the rattle of dice, and the drunken
+songs?&mdash;the piracy of tradition? If she had any
+fear at all it was for the man at her left&mdash;Denny&mdash;who
+might run amuck on her account and spoil
+everything. All her life she would hear the father&#8217;s
+voice&mdash;&#8220;The jam and the cheese, Togo.&#8221; What
+men, all three of them!
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span></p>
+<p>Cunningham laid his napkin on the table and
+stood up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Absolute personal liberty, if you will accept
+the situation sensibly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison glowered at him, but Jane reached out
+and touched the soldier&#8217;s sleeve.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For your sake, then. But it&#8217;s tough medicine
+for me to swallow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To be sure it is,&#8221; agreed the rogue. &#8220;Look
+upon me as a supercargo for the next ten days.
+You&#8217;ll see me only at lunch and dinner. I&#8217;ve a lot
+of work to do in the chart house. By the way, the
+wireless man is mine, Cleigh, so don&#8217;t waste any
+time on him. Hope you&#8217;re a good sailor, Miss
+Norman, for we are heading into rough weather,
+and we haven&#8217;t much beam.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I love the sea!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hang it, you and I shan&#8217;t have any trouble!
+Good-night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham limped to the door, where he
+turned and eyed the elder Cleigh, who was stirring
+his coffee thoughtfully. Suddenly the rogue burst
+into a gale of laughter, and they could hear recurrent
+bursts as he wended his way to the companion.</p>
+<p>When this sound died away Cleigh turned his
+glance levelly upon Jane. The stone-like mask
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span>
+dissolved into something that was pathetically
+human.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Norman,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I don&#8217;t know what
+we are heading into, but if we ever get clear I will
+make any reparation you may demand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any kind of a reparation?&#8221;&mdash;an eager note in
+her voice.</p>
+<p>Dennison stared at her, puzzled, but almost
+instantly he was conscious of the warmth of
+shame in his cheeks. This girl wasn&#8217;t that sort&mdash;to
+ask for money as a balm for the indignity offered
+her. What was she after?</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any kind of reparation,&#8221; repeated Cleigh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll remember that&mdash;if we get through. And
+somehow I believe we shall.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You trust that scoundrel?&#8221; asked Cleigh,
+astonishedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Inexplicably&mdash;yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because he happens to be handsome?&#8221;&mdash;with
+frank irony.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221; But she looked at the son as she spoke.
+&#8220;He said he never broke his word. No man can
+be a very great villain who can say that. Did he
+ever break his word to you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Except in this instance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The beads?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am quite confident he knows where they
+are.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Are they so precious? What makes them
+precious?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have told you&mdash;they are love beads.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s rank nonsense! I&#8217;m no child!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t love rank nonsense?&#8221; Cleigh countered.
+He was something of a banterer himself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you never loved anybody?&#8221; she shot
+back at him.</p>
+<p>A shadow passed over the man&#8217;s face, clearing
+the ironic expression.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps I loved not wisely but too well.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m sorry! I didn&#8217;t mean&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are young; all about you is sunshine; I myself
+have gone down among the shadows. Cunningham
+may keep his word; but there is always
+the possibility of his not being able to keep it. He
+has become an outlaw; he is in maritime law a
+pirate. The crew are aware of it; prison stares
+them in the face, and that may make them reckless.
+If you weren&#8217;t on board I shouldn&#8217;t care.
+But you are young, vital, attractive, of the type
+that appeals to strong men. In the dry stores
+there are many cases of liquor and wine. The
+men may break into the stuff before we reach the
+Catwick. That will take ten or twelve days if
+Cunningham lays a course outside Formosa.
+What&#8217;s his game? I don&#8217;t know. Probably he
+will maroon us on the Catwick, an island I know
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span>
+nothing about, except that it is nearer to Saigon
+than to Singapore. So then in the daytime stay
+where I am or where Captain Dennison is. Good-night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison balanced his spoon on the rim of the
+coffee cup&mdash;not a particularly easy job.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whatever shall I do with the jade?&#8221; Jane
+asked, irrelevantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The jade necklace. That poor Chinaman!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ling Foo? I wish I had broken his infernal
+yellow neck! But for him neither of us would be
+here. But he is right,&#8221; Dennison added, with a
+jerk of his head toward the door. &#8220;You must always
+be with one or the other of us&mdash;preferably
+me.&#8221; He smiled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you promise me one thing?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Denny.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you promise me one thing, Denny?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And that is not to attempt to mix it with the
+scoundrel?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I promise&mdash;so long as he keeps his. But if he
+touches you&mdash;well, God help him!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And me! Oh, I don&#8217;t mean him. It is you
+that I am afraid of. You&#8217;re so terribly strong&mdash;and&mdash;and
+so heady. I can never forget how you
+went into that mob of quarrelling troopers. But
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span>
+you were an officer there; your uniform doesn&#8217;t
+count here. If only you and your father stood
+together!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We do so far as you are concerned. Never
+doubt that. Otherwise, though, it&#8217;s hopeless.
+What are you going to demand of him&mdash;supposing
+we come through safely?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s my secret. Let&#8217;s go on deck.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s raining hard, and there&#8217;ll be a good deal of
+pitching shortly. Better turn in. You&#8217;ve been
+through enough to send the average woman into
+hysterics.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It won&#8217;t be possible to sleep.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I grant that, but I&#8217;d rather you would go at
+once to your cabin.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wonder if you will understand. I&#8217;m not
+really afraid. I know I ought to be, but I&#8217;m not.
+All my life has been a series of humdrum&mdash;and
+here is adventure, stupendous adventure!&#8221; She
+rose abruptly, holding out her arms dramatically
+toward space. &#8220;All my life I have lived in a shell,
+and chance has cracked it. If only you knew how
+wonderfully free I feel at this moment! I want
+to go on deck, to feel the wind and the rain in my
+face!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go to bed,&#8221; he said, prosaically.</p>
+<p>Though never had she appeared so poignantly
+desirable. He wanted to seize her in his arms,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span>
+smother her with kisses, bury his face in her hair.
+And swiftly upon this desire came the thought that
+if she appealed to him so strongly, might she not
+appeal quite as strongly to the rogue? He laid
+the spoon on the rim of the cup again and teetered
+it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go to bed,&#8221; he repeated.</p>
+<p>&#8220;An order?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;An order. I&#8217;ll go along with you to the cabin.
+Come!&#8221; He got up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can you tell me you&#8217;re not excited?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am honestly terrified. I&#8217;d give ten years of
+my life if you were safely out of this. For seven
+long years I have been knocking about this world,
+and among other things I have learned that plans
+like Cunningham&#8217;s never get through per order.
+I don&#8217;t know what the game is, but it&#8217;s bound to
+fail. So I&#8217;m going to ask you, in God&#8217;s name, not
+to let any romantical ideas get into your head.
+This is bad business for all of us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was something in his voice, aside from
+the genuine seriousness, that subdued her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll go to bed. Shall we have breakfast together?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better that way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>To reach the port passage they had to come out
+into the main salon. Cleigh was in his corner
+reading.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Good-night,&#8221; she called. All her bitterness
+toward him was gone. &#8220;And don&#8217;t worry about
+me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good-night,&#8221; replied Cleigh over the top of the
+book. &#8220;Be sure of your door. If you hear any
+untoward sounds in the night call to the captain
+whose cabin adjoins yours.&#8221;</p>
+<p>When she and Dennison arrived at the door of
+her cabin she turned impulsively and gave him
+both her hands. He held them lightly, because
+his emotions were at full tide, and he did not care
+to have her sense it in any pressure. Her confidence
+in him now was absolute, and he must
+guard himself constantly. Poor fool! Why hadn&#8217;t
+he told her that last night on the British transport?
+What had held him back?</p>
+<p>The uncertain future&mdash;he had let that rise up
+between. And now he could not tell her. If she
+did not care, if her regard did not go beyond comradeship,
+the knowledge would only distress her.</p>
+<p>The yacht was beginning to roll now, for they
+were making the East China Sea. The yacht
+rolled suddenly to starboard, and Jane fell against
+him. He caught her, instantly turned her right
+about and gently but firmly forced her into the
+cabin.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good-night. Remember! Rap on the partition
+if you hear anything you don&#8217;t like.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I promise.&#8221;</p>
+<p>After she had locked and latched the door she
+set about the business of emptying her kit bags.
+She hung the evening gown she had worn all day
+in the locker, laid her toilet articles on the dresser,
+and set the brass hand warmer on the lowboy.
+Then she let down her hair and began to brush it.
+She swung a thick strand of it over her shoulder
+and ran her hand down under it. The woman in
+&#8220;Phra the Ph&oelig;nician,&#8221; Allori&#8217;s Judith&mdash;and she
+had always hated the colour of it! She once more
+applied the brush, balancing herself nicely to meet
+the ever-increasing roll.</p>
+<p>Nevertheless, she did feel free, freer than she had
+felt in all her life before. A stupendous adventure!
+After the braids were completed she flung them
+down her back, turned off the light, and peered out
+of the rain-blurred port. She could see nothing
+except an occasional flash of angry foam as it
+raced past. She slipped into bed, but her eyes
+remained open for a long time.</p>
+<p>Dennison wondered if there would be a slicker
+in his old locker. He opened the door. He
+found an oilskin and a yellow sou&#8217;wester on the
+hooks. He took them down and put them on
+and stole out carefully, a hand extended each side
+to minimize the roll. He navigated the passage
+and came out into the salon.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span></p>
+<p>Cleigh was still immersed in his book. He
+looked up quickly, but recognizing the intruder,
+dropped his gaze instantly. Dennison crossed the
+salon to the companionway and staggered up the
+steps. Had his father ever really been afraid of
+anything? He could not remember ever having
+seen the old boy in the grip of fear. What a
+devil of a world it was!</p>
+<p>Dennison was an able seaman. He had been
+brought up on the sea&mdash;seven years on the first
+<i>Wanderer</i> and five on the second. He had, in
+company with his father, ridden the seven seas.
+But he had no trade; he hadn&#8217;t the money instinct;
+he would have to stumble upon fortune; he knew
+no way of making it. And this knowledge stirred
+his rancor anew&mdash;the father hadn&#8217;t played fair
+with the son.</p>
+<p>He gripped the deck-house rail to steady himself,
+for the wind and rain caught him head-on.</p>
+<p>Then he worked his way slowly along to the
+bridge. Twice a comber broke on the quarter and
+dropped a ton of water, which sloshed about the
+deck, drenching his feet. He climbed the ladder,
+rather amused at the recurrence of an old thought&mdash;that
+climbing ship ladders in dirty weather
+was a good deal like climbing in nightmares: one
+weighed thousands of pounds and had feet of lead.</p>
+<p>Presently he peered into the chart room, which
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span>
+was dark except for the small hooded bulbs over
+the navigating instruments. He could see the
+chin and jaws of the wheelman and the beard of
+old Captain Newton. From time to time a wheel
+spoke came into the light.</p>
+<p>On the chart table lay a pocket lamp, facing
+sternward, the light pouring upon what looked to
+be a map; and over it were bent three faces, one
+of which was Cunningham&#8217;s. A forefinger was
+tracing this map.</p>
+<p>Dennison opened the door and stepped inside.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;How are you making out, Newton?&#8221; he
+asked, calmly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Denny? Why, God bless me, boy,
+I&#8217;m glad to see you! How&#8217;s your dad?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Reading.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That would be like him. I don&#8217;t suppose if
+hell opened under his feet he&#8217;d do anything except
+look interested. And it &#8217;pears to me&#8217;s though hell
+had opened up right now!&#8221;</p>
+<p>A chuckle came from the chart table.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s your idea of hell, Newton?&#8221; asked
+Cunningham.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anything you might have a hand in,&#8221; was the
+return bolt.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, you used to like me!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes! But I didn&#8217;t know you then. The
+barometer&#8217;s dropping. If it was August I&#8217;d say
+we were nosing into a typhoon. I always hated
+this yellow muck they call a sea over here. Did
+you pick up that light?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir,&#8221; answered the wheelman. &#8220;I take
+it she&#8217;s making south&mdash;Hong-Kong way. There&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span>
+plenty of sea room. She&#8217;ll be well down before we
+cross her wake.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Silence except for the rumble of the weather
+canvas standing up against the furious blasts of
+the wind. Dennison stepped over to the chart
+table.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cunningham, I would like to have a word with
+you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go ahead. You can have as many as you
+like.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;At dinner you spoke of your word.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So I did. What about it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you keep it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whenever I humanly can. Well?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s this Catwick Island?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hanged if I know!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you going to maroon us there?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. At that point the yacht will be turned
+back to your father, and he can cruise until the
+crack o&#8217; doom without further interference from
+yours truly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s your word?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is&mdash;and I will keep it. Anything else?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I will play the game as it lies, provided
+that Miss Norman is in nowise interfered with
+or annoyed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How is she taking it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My reply first.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Neither I nor the crew will bother her. She
+shall come and go free as the gull in the air. If at
+any time the men do not observe the utmost politeness
+toward her you will do me a favour to report
+to me. That&#8217;s my word, and I promise to
+keep it, even if I have to kill a man or two. I wish
+to come through clean in the hands so far as your
+father, Miss Norman, and yourself are concerned.
+I&#8217;m risking my neck and my liberty, for this is
+piracy on the high seas. But every man is
+entitled to one good joke during his lifetime, and
+when we raise the Catwick I&#8217;ll explain this joke
+in full. If you don&#8217;t chuckle, then you haven&#8217;t
+so much as a grain of humour in your make-up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, there&#8217;s nothing for me to do but take
+your word as you give it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the way to talk. Now, Flint, this bay
+or lagoon&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>The voice dropped into a low, indistinguishable
+murmur. Dennison realized that the moment had
+come to depart; the edge of the encounter was in
+Cunningham&#8217;s favour and to remain would only
+serve to sharpen this edge. So he went outside,
+slamming the door behind him.</p>
+<p>The word of a rogue! There was now nothing
+to do but turn in. He believed he had a glimmer.
+Somewhere off the Catwick Cunningham and his
+crew were to be picked up. He would not be
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span>
+going to the Catwick himself, not knowing whether
+it was jungle or bald rock. But if a ship was to
+pick him up, why hadn&#8217;t she made Shanghai and
+picked him up there? Why commit piracy&mdash;unless
+he was a colossal liar, which Dennison was
+ready enough to believe. The word of a rogue!</p>
+<p>Some private war? Was Cunningham paying
+off an old grudge? But was any grudge worth
+this risk? The old boy wasn&#8217;t to be scared;
+Cunningham ought to have known that. If
+Cleigh came through with a whole skin he&#8217;d hunt
+the beggar down if it carried him to the North
+Pole. Cunningham ought to have known that,
+too. A planted crew, piracy&mdash;and he, Dennison
+Cleigh, was eventually to chuckle over it! He
+had his doubts. And where did the glass beads
+come in? Or had Cunningham spoken the truth&mdash;a
+lure? A big game somewhere in the offing.
+And the rogue was right! The world, dizzily
+stewing in a caldron of monumental mistakes,
+would give scant attention to an off-side play such
+as this promised to be. Not a handhold anywhere
+to the puzzle. The old boy might have the key,
+but Dennison Cleigh could not go to him for the
+solution.</p>
+<p>His own father! Just as he had become used
+to the idea that the separation was final, absolute,
+to be thrown together in this fantastic manner!
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span>
+The father&#8217;s arm under his neck and the cup at his
+lips had shaken him profoundly. But Cleigh
+would not have denied a dog drink had the dog
+exhibited signs of thirst. So nothing could be
+drawn from that.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>Morning. Jane opened her eyes, only to shut
+them quickly. The white brilliancy of the cabin
+hurt. Across the ceiling ran a constant flicker of
+silver&mdash;reflected sunshine on the water. Southward&mdash;they
+were heading southward. She jumped
+out of bed and stepped over to the port. Flashing
+yellow water, a blue sky, and far off the oddly
+ribbed sails of a Chinese junk labouring heavily in
+the big sea that was still running. Glorious!</p>
+<p>She dressed hurriedly and warmly, bundling
+her hair under a velours hat and ramming a pin
+through both.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Denny?&#8221; she called.</p>
+<p>There was no answer. He was on deck, probably.</p>
+<p>An odd scene awaited her in the main salon.
+Cleigh, senior, stood before the phonograph listening
+to Caruso. The roll of the yacht in nowise
+disturbed the mechanism of the instrument.
+There was no sudden sluing of the needle, due to an
+amateurish device which Cleigh himself had constructed.
+The son, stooping, was searching the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span>
+titles of a row of new novels. The width of the
+salon stretched between the two.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good morning, everybody!&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was a joyousness in her voice she made
+not the least attempt to conceal. She was joyous,
+alive, and she did not care who knew it.</p>
+<p>Dennison acknowledged her greeting with a
+smile, a smile which was a mixture of wonder and
+admiration. How in the world was she to be
+made to understand that they were riding a deep-sea
+volcano?</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing disturbed you through the night?&#8221;
+asked Cleigh, lifting the pin from the record.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing. I lay awake for an hour or two, but
+after that I slept like a log. Have I kept you
+waiting?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Breakfast isn&#8217;t quite ready,&#8221; answered
+Cleigh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What makes the sea so yellow?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All the big Chinese rivers are mud-banked and
+mud-bottomed. They pour millions of tons of
+yellow mud into these waters. By this afternoon,
+however, I imagine we&#8217;ll be nosing into the blue.
+Ah!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Breakfast iss served,&#8221; announced Togo the
+Jap.</p>
+<p>The trio entered the dining salon in single file,
+and once more Jane found herself seated between
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span>
+the two men. One moment she was carrying on
+a conversation with the father, the next moment
+with the son. The two ignored each other perfectly.
+Under ordinary circumstances it would
+have been strange enough; but in this hour, when
+no one knew where or how this voyage would end!
+A real tragedy or some absurd trifle? Probably a
+trifle; trifles dug more pits than tragedies. Perhaps
+tragedy was mis-named. What humans
+called tragedy was epic, and trifles were real
+tragedies. And then there were certain natures
+to whom the trifle was epical; to whom the inconsequent
+was invariably magnified nine diameters;
+and having made a mistake, would die
+rather than admit it.</p>
+<p>To bring these two together, to lure them from
+behind their ramparts of stubbornness, to see
+them eventually shake hands and grin as men will
+who recognize that they have been playing the
+fool! She became fired with the idea. Only
+she must not move prematurely; there must arrive
+some psychological moment.</p>
+<p>During the meal, toward the end of it, one of the
+crew entered. He was young&mdash;in the early
+twenties. The manner in which he saluted convinced
+Dennison that the fellow had recently been
+in the United States Navy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Cunningham&#8217;s compliments, sir. Canvas
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span>
+has been rigged on the port promenade and chairs
+and rugs set out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Another salute and he was off.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, that&#8217;s decent enough,&#8221; was Dennison&#8217;s
+comment. &#8220;That chap has been in the Navy.
+It&#8217;s all miles over my head, I&#8217;ll confess. Cunningham
+spoke of a joke when I accosted him in the
+chart house last night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You went up there?&#8221; cried Jane.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. And among other things he said that
+every man is entitled to at least one good joke.
+What the devil can he mean by that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Had he been looking at his father Dennison
+would have caught a fleeting, grim, shadowy smile
+on the strong mouth.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You will find a dozen new novels on the shelves,
+Miss Norman,&#8221; said Cleigh as he rose. &#8220;I&#8217;ll be
+on deck. I generally walk two or three miles in
+the morning. Let us hang together this day to
+test the scalawag&#8217;s promise.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Cleigh, when you spoke of reparation last
+night, you weren&#8217;t thinking in monetary terms,
+were you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh&#8217;s brows lowered a trifle, but it was the
+effect of puzzlement.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because,&#8221; she proceeded, gravely, &#8220;all the
+money you possess would not compensate me for
+the position you have placed me in.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, perhaps I did have money in mind. However,
+I hold to my word. Anything you may ask.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Some day I will ask you for something.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And if humanly possible I promise to give it,&#8221;
+and with this Cleigh took leave.</p>
+<p>Jane turned to Dennison.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is so strange and incomprehensible! You
+two sitting here and ignoring each other! Surely
+you don&#8217;t hate your father?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have the greatest respect and admiration for
+him. To you no doubt it seems fantastic; but we
+understand each other thoroughly, my father and
+I. I&#8217;d take his hand instantly, God knows, if he
+offered it! But if I offered mine it would be glass
+against diamond&mdash;I&#8217;d only get badly scratched.
+Suppose we go on deck? The air and the sunshine&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But this catastrophe has brought you together
+after all these years. Isn&#8217;t there something providential
+in that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who can say?&#8221;</p>
+<p>On deck they fell in behind Cleigh, and followed
+him round for fully an hour; then Jane signified
+that she was tired, and Dennison put her in the
+centre chair and wrapped the rug about her. He
+selected the chair at her right.</p>
+<p>Jane shut her eyes, and Dennison opened a
+novel. It was good reading, and he became
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span>
+partially absorbed. The sudden creak of a chair
+brought his glance round. His father had seated
+himself in the vacant chair.</p>
+<p>The phase that dug in and hurt was that his
+father made no endeavour to avoid him&mdash;simply
+ignored his existence. Seven years and not a
+crack in the granite! He laid the book on his
+knees and stared at the rocking horizon.</p>
+<p>One of the crew passed. Cleigh hailed him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Send Mr. Cleve to me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The air and the tone of the man were perfectly
+respectful.</p>
+<p>When Cleve, the first officer, appeared his manner
+was solicitous.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you comfortable, sir?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would ten thousand dollars interest you?&#8221; said
+Cleigh, directly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you mean to come over to your side, no.
+My life wouldn&#8217;t be worth a snap of the thumb.
+You know something about Dick Cunningham.
+I know him well. The truth is, Mr. Cleigh, we&#8217;re
+off on a big gamble, and if we win out ten thousand
+wouldn&#8217;t interest me. Life on board will be
+exactly as it was before you put into Shanghai.
+More I am not at liberty to tell you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How far is the Catwick?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Somewhere round two thousand&mdash;eight or
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span>
+nine days, perhaps ten. We&#8217;re not piling on&mdash;short
+of coal. It&#8217;s mighty difficult to get it for a
+private yacht. You may not find a bucketful in
+Singapore. In America you can always commandeer
+it, having ships and coal mines of your
+own. The drop down to Singapore from the Catwick
+is about forty hours. You have coal in
+Manila. You can cable for it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are honestly leaving us at that island?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir. You can, if you wish, take the run
+up to Saigon; but your chance for coal there is
+nil.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cleve,&#8221; said Cleigh, solemnly, &#8220;you appreciate
+the risks you are running?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Cleigh, there are no risks. It&#8217;s a dead
+certainty. Cunningham is one of your efficiency
+experts. Everything has been thought of.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Except fate,&#8221; supplemented Cleigh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fate? Why, she&#8217;s our chief engineer!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleve turned away, chuckling; a dozen feet off
+this chuckle became boisterous laughter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What can they be after? Sunken treasure?&#8221;
+cried Jane, excitedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hangman&#8217;s hemp&mdash;if I live long enough,&#8221;
+was the grim declaration, and Cleigh drew the rug
+over his knees.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But it can&#8217;t be anything dreadful if they can
+laugh over it!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you ever hear Mephisto laugh in Faust?
+Cunningham is a queer duck. I don&#8217;t suppose
+there&#8217;s a corner on the globe he hasn&#8217;t had a peek
+at. He has a vast knowledge of the arts. His
+real name nobody seems to know. He can make
+himself very likable to men and attractive to
+women. The sort of women he seeks do not mind
+his physical deformity. His face and his intellect
+draw them, and he is as cruel as a wolf. It never
+occurred to me until last night that men like me
+create his kind. But I don&#8217;t understand him in
+this instance. A play like this, with all the future
+risks! After I get the wires moving he won&#8217;t be
+able to stir a hundred miles in any direction.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But so long as he doesn&#8217;t intend to harm us&mdash;and
+I&#8217;m convinced he doesn&#8217;t&mdash;perhaps we&#8217;d better
+play the game as he asks us to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Norman,&#8221; said Cleigh in a tired voice,
+&#8220;will you do me the favour to ask Captain Dennison
+why he has never touched the twenty thousand
+I deposited to his account?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Astonished, Jane turned to Dennison to repeat
+the question, but was forestalled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell Mr. Cleigh that to touch a dollar of that
+money would be a tacit admission that Mr. Cleigh
+had the right to strike Captain Dennison across
+the mouth.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison swung out of the chair and strode off
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span>
+toward the bridge, his shoulders flat and his neck
+stiff.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You struck him?&#8221; demanded Jane, impulsively.</p>
+<p>But Cleigh did not answer. His eyes were
+closed, his head rested against the back of the chair
+so Jane did not press the question. It was enough
+that she had seen behind a corner of this peculiar
+veil. And, oddly, she felt quite as much pity
+for the father as for the son. A wall of pride,
+Alpine high, and neither would force a passage!</p>
+<p>They did not see the arch rogue during the day,
+but he came in to dinner. He was gay&mdash;in a
+story-telling mood. There was little or no banter,
+for he spoke only to Jane, and gave her flashes of
+some of his amazing activities in search of art
+treasures. He had once been chased up and down
+Japan by the Mikado&#8217;s agents for having in his
+possession some royal-silk tapestry which it is
+forbidden to take out of the country. Another
+time he had gone into Tibet for a lama&#8217;s ghost
+mask studded with raw emeralds and turquoise,
+and had suffered untold miseries in getting down
+into India. Again he had entered a Rajput haremlik
+as a woman, and eventually escaped with the
+fabulous rug which hung in the salon. Adventure,
+adventure, and death always at his elbow! There
+was nothing of the braggart in the man; he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span>
+recounted his tales after the manner of a boy relating
+some college escapades, deprecatingly.</p>
+<p>Often Jane stole a glance at one or the other of
+the Cleighs. She was constantly swung between&mdash;but
+never touched&mdash;the desire to laugh and the
+desire to weep over this tragedy, which seemed so
+futile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you write a book about these
+adventures?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A book? No time,&#8221; said Cunningham. &#8220;Besides,
+the moment one of these trips is over it ends;
+I can recount it only sketchily.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But even sketchily it would be tremendously
+interesting. It is as if you were playing a game
+with death for the mere sport of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe that hits it, though I&#8217;ve never stopped
+to analyze. I never think of death; it is a waste
+of gray matter. I should be no nearer death in
+Tibet than I should be asleep in a cradle. Why
+bother about the absolute, the inevitable? Humanity
+wears itself out building bridges for
+imaginary torrents. I am an exception; that is why
+I shall be young and handsome up to the moment
+the grim stalker puts his claw on my shoulder.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He smiled whimsically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you, have you never caught some of the
+passion for possessing rare paintings, rugs, manuscripts?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You miss the point. What does the sense of
+possession amount to beside the sense of seeking
+and finding? Cleigh here thinks he is having a
+thrill when he signs a check. It is to laugh!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you ever killed a man?&#8221; It was one of
+those questions that leap forth irresistibly. Jane
+was a bit frightened at her temerity.</p>
+<p>Cunningham drank his coffee deliberately.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jane shrank back a little.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But never willfully,&#8221; Cunningham added&mdash;&#8220;always
+in self-defence, and never a white man.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was a peculiar phase about the man&#8217;s
+singular beauty. Animated, it was youthful; in
+grim repose, it was sad and old.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Death!&#8221; said Jane in a kind of awed whisper.
+&#8220;I have watched many die, and I cannot get over
+the terror of it. Here is a man with all the faculties,
+physical and mental; a human being, loving,
+hating, working, sleeping; and in an instant he is
+nothing!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A Chinaman once said that the thought of
+death is as futile as water in the hand. By the
+way, Cleigh&mdash;and you too, captain&mdash;give the wireless
+a wide berth. There&#8217;s death there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jane saw the fire opals leap into the dark eyes.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>The third day out they were well below
+Formosa, which had been turned on a wide
+arc. The sea was blue now, quiescent,
+waveless; there was only the eternal roll. Still
+Jane could not help comparing the sea with the
+situation&mdash;the devil was slumbering. What if he
+waked?</p>
+<p>Time after time she tried to force her thoughts
+into the reality of this remarkable cruise, but it was
+impossible. Romance was always smothering her,
+edging her off, when she approached the sinister.
+Perhaps if she had heard ribald songs, seen evidence
+of drunkenness; if the crew had loitered
+about and been lacking in respect, she would have
+been able to grasp the actuality; but so far the idea
+persisted that this could not be anything more
+than a pleasure cruise. Piracy? Where was it?</p>
+<p>So she measured her actions accordingly, read,
+played the phonograph, went here and there over
+the yacht, often taking her stand in the bow and
+peering down the cutwater to watch the antics of
+some humorous porpoise or to follow the smother of
+spray where the flying fish broke. In fact, she
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span>
+conducted herself exactly as she would have done
+on board a passenger ship. There were moments
+when she was honestly bored.</p>
+<p>Piracy! This was an established fact. Cunningham
+and his men had stepped outside the pale
+of law in running off with the <i>Wanderer</i>. But
+piracy without drunken disorder, piracy that wiped
+its feet on the doormat and hung its hat on the
+rack! There was a touch of the true farce in it.
+Hadn&#8217;t Cunningham himself confessed that the
+whole affair was a joke?</p>
+<p>Round two o&#8217;clock on the afternoon of the third
+day Jane, for the moment alone in her chair, heard
+the phonograph&mdash;the sextet from Lucia. She
+left her chair, looked down through the open
+transom and discovered Dennison cranking the
+machine. He must have seen her shadow, for he
+glanced up quickly.</p>
+<p>He crooked a finger which said, &#8220;Come on
+down!&#8221; She made a negative sign and withdrew
+her head.</p>
+<p>Here she was again on the verge of wild laughter.
+Donizetti! Pirates! Glass beads for which
+Cleigh had voyaged sixteen thousand miles! A
+father and son who ignored each other! She
+choked down this desire to laugh, because she was
+afraid it might end suddenly in hysteria and tears.
+She returned to her chair, and there was the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span>
+father arranging himself comfortably. He had a
+book.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would you like me to read a while to you?&#8221;
+she offered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you? You see,&#8221; he confessed, &#8220;I&#8217;m
+troubled with insomnia. If I read by myself I only
+become interested in the book, but if someone
+reads aloud it makes me drowsy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;As a nurse I&#8217;ve done that hundreds of times.
+But frankly, I can&#8217;t read poetry; I begin to sing-song
+it at once; it becomes rime without reason.
+What is the book?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh extended it to her. The moment her
+hands touched the volume she saw that she was
+holding something immeasurably precious. The
+form was unlike the familiar shapes of modern
+books. The covers consisted of exquisitely hand-tooled
+calf bound by thongs; there was a subtle
+perfume as she opened them. Illuminated vellum.
+She uttered a pleasurable little gasp.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Song of Songs, which is Solomon&#8217;s,&#8221; she
+read.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fifteenth century&mdash;the vellum. The Florentine
+covers were probably added in the seventeenth.
+I have four more downstairs. They are
+museum pieces, as we say.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is to say, priceless?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;After a fashion.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Many waters cannot quench love, neither can
+the floods drown it; if a man would give all the
+substance of his house for love, it would utterly be
+contemned!&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why did you select that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t select it; I remembered it&mdash;because
+it is true.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You have a very pleasant voice. Go on&mdash;read.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thus for an hour she read to him, and by the
+time she grew tired Cleigh was sound asleep. The
+look of granite was gone from his face, and she
+saw that he, too, had been handsome in his youth.
+Why had he struck Denny on the mouth? What
+had the son done so to enrage the father? Some
+woman! And where had she met the man? Oh,
+she was certain that she had encountered him before!
+But for the present the gate to recollection
+refused to swing outward. Gently she laid the
+beautiful book on his knees and stole over to the
+rail. For a while she watched the flying fish.</p>
+<p>Then came one of those impulses which keep
+human beings from becoming half gods&mdash;a wrong
+impulse, surrendered to immediately, unweighed,
+unanalyzed, unchallenged. The father asleep, the
+son amusing himself with the phonograph, she
+was now unobserved by her guardians; and so she
+put into execution the thought that had been
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span>
+urging and intriguing her since the strange voyage
+began&mdash;a visit to the chart house. She wanted
+to ask Cunningham some questions. He would
+know something about the Cleighs.</p>
+<p>The port door to the chart house was open,
+latched back against the side. She hesitated for
+a moment outside the high-beamed threshold&mdash;hesitated
+because Captain Newton was not visible.
+The wheelman was alone. Obliquely she saw
+Cunningham, Cleve, and a third man seated round
+a table which was littered. This third man sat
+facing the port door, and sensing her presence he
+looked up. Rather attractive until one noted the
+thin, hard lips, the brilliant blue eyes. At the
+sight of Jane something flitted over his face, and
+Jane knew that he was bad.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter, Flint?&#8221; asked Cunningham,
+observing the other&#8217;s abstraction.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We have a visitor,&#8221; answered Flint.</p>
+<p>Cunningham spun his chair round and jumped
+to his feet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Norman? Come in, come in! Anything
+you need?&#8221; he asked with lively interest.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should like to ask you some questions, Mr.
+Cunningham.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh! Well, if I can answer them, I will.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked significantly at his companions, who
+rose and left the house by the starboard door.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;They can&#8217;t keep away from him, can they?&#8221;
+said Flint, cynically. &#8220;Slue-Foot has the come-hither,
+sure enough. I had an idea she&#8217;d be hiking
+this way the first chance she got.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You haven&#8217;t the right dope this trip,&#8221; replied
+Cleve. &#8220;The contract reads: Hands off women
+and booze.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Psalm-singing pirates! We&#8217;ll be having
+prayers Sunday. But that woman is my style.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better begin digging up a prayer if you&#8217;ve got
+that bug in your head. If you make any fool
+play in that direction Cunningham will break you.
+I saw you last night staring through the transom.
+Watch your step, Flint. I&#8217;m telling you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But if she should happen to take a fancy to
+me, who shall say no?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hate yourself, eh? There was liquor on your
+breath last night. Did you bring some aboard?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s that to you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a whole lot to me, my bucko&mdash;to me and to
+the rest of the boys. Cleigh will not prosecute us
+for piracy if we play a decent game until we raise
+the Catwick. On old Van Dorn&#8217;s tub we can
+drink and sing if we want to. If Cunningham gets
+a whiff of your breath, when you&#8217;ve had it, you&#8217;ll
+get yours. Most of the boys have never done anything
+worse than apple stealing. It was the
+adventure. All keyed up for war and no place to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span>
+go, and this was a kind of safety valve. Already
+half of them are beginning to knock in the knees.
+Game, understand, but now worried about the
+future.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A peg or two before turning in won&#8217;t hurt anybody.
+I&#8217;m not touching it in the daytime.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Keep away from him when you do&mdash;that&#8217;s all.
+We&#8217;re depending on you and Cunningham to pull
+through. If you two get to scrapping the whole
+business will go blooey. If we play the game
+according to contract there&#8217;s a big chance of
+getting back to the States without having the
+sheriff on the dock to meet us. But if you mess it
+up because an unexpected stroke put a woman on
+board, you&#8217;ll end up as shark bait.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe I will and maybe I won&#8217;t,&#8221; was the
+truculent rejoinder.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lord!&#8221; said Cleve, a vast discouragement in
+his tone. &#8220;You lay a course as true and fine as a
+hair, and run afoul a rotting derelict in the night!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flint laughed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I shan&#8217;t make any trouble. I&#8217;ll say my
+prayers regular until we make shore finally. The
+agreement was to lay off the Cleigh booze. I
+brought on board only a couple of quarts, and
+they&#8217;ll be gone before we raise the Catwick.
+But if I feel like talking to the woman I&#8217;ll do it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s your funeral, not mine,&#8221; was the ominous
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span>
+comment. &#8220;You&#8217;ve been on the beach once too
+often, Flint, to play a game like this straight.
+But Cunningham had to have you, because you
+know the Malay lingo. Remember, he isn&#8217;t afraid
+of anything that walks on two feet or four.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Neither am I&mdash;when I want anything. But
+glass beads!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That was only a lure for Cleigh, who&#8217;d go
+round the world for any curio he was interested
+in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what I mean. If it were diamonds or
+pearls or rubies, all well and good. But a string
+of glass beads! The old duffer is a nut!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe he is. But if you had ten or twelve
+millions, what would you do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jump for Prome and foot it to the silk bazaar,
+where there are three or four of the prettiest Burmese
+girls you ever laid your eyes on. Then I&#8217;d
+buy the Galle Face Hotel in Colombo and close it
+to the public.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And in five years&mdash;the old beach again!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flint scowled at the oily, heaving rolls, brassy
+and dazzling. He was bored. For twelve weeks
+he had circled the dull round of ship routine, with
+never shore leave that was long enough for an
+ordinary drinking bout. He was bored stiff.
+Suddenly his thin lips broke into a smile. Cleve,
+noting the smile, divined something of the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span>
+impellent thought behind that smile, and he grew uneasy.
+He recalled his own expression of a few moments
+gone&mdash;the unreckoned derelict.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you for coming up,&#8221; said Cunningham.
+&#8220;It makes me feel that you trust me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want to,&#8221; admitted Jane.</p>
+<p>A disturbing phenomenon. Always there was
+a quickening of her heart-beats at the beginning of
+each encounter with this unusual gentleman rover.
+It was no longer fear. What was it? Was it the
+face of him, too strong and vital for a woman&#8217;s, too
+handsome for a man&#8217;s? Was it his dark, fiery eye
+which was always reversing what his glib tongue
+said? Some hidden magnetism? Alone, the
+thought of him was recurrent, no matter how
+resolutely she cast it forth. Even now she could
+not honestly say whether she was here to ask
+questions of Cunningham or of herself. Perhaps
+it was because he was the unknown, whereas
+Denny was for the most part as readable as an
+open book. The one like the forest stream, sometimes
+turbulent but always clear; the other like the
+sea through which they plowed, smooth, secret,
+ominous.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do your guardians know where you are?&#8221;&mdash;raillery
+in his voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. I came to ask some questions.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Curiosity. Sit down. What is it you wish to
+know?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All this&mdash;and what will be the end?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, doubtless there will be an end, but I&#8217;m
+not seer enough to foretell it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you have some doubts?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only those that beset all of us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But somehow&mdash;well, you don&#8217;t seem to belong
+to this sort of game.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Unexpectedly he had set a wall between. She
+had no answer, and her embarrassment was
+visible on her cheeks.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here and there across the world rough men
+call me Slue-Foot. Perhaps my deformity has
+reacted upon my soul and twisted that. Perhaps
+if my countenance had been homely and rugged I
+would have walked the beaten paths of respectability.
+But the two together!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A woman such as you are would be. You are
+a true daughter of the great mother&mdash;Pity. But
+I have never asked pity of any. I have asked only
+that a man shall keep his word to me as I will keep
+mine to him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you are risking your liberty, perhaps your
+life!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve been risking that for more than twenty
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span>
+years. The habit has become normal. All my
+life I&#8217;ve wanted a real adventure.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She gazed at him in utter astonishment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;An adventure? Why, you yourself told me
+that you had risked your life a hundred times!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That?&#8221;&mdash;with a smile and a shrug. &#8220;That
+was business, the day&#8217;s work. I mean an adventure
+in which I am accountable to no man.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only to God?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, of course, if you want it that way. For
+myself, I&#8217;m something of a pagan. I have dreamed
+of this day. When you were a little girl didn&#8217;t you
+dream of a wonderful doll that could walk and
+make almost human noises? Well, I&#8217;m realizing
+my doll. I am going pearl hunting in the South
+Seas&mdash;the thing I dreamed of when I was a
+boy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But why commit piracy? Why didn&#8217;t you
+hire a steamer?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I must have my joke, too. But I hadn&#8217;t
+counted on you. In every campaign there is the
+hollow road of Ohain. Napoleon lost Waterloo
+because of it. Your presence here has forced me
+to use a hand without velvet. These men expected
+a little fun&mdash;cards and drink; and some of
+them are grumbling with discontent. But don&#8217;t
+worry. In five days we&#8217;ll be off on our own.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is the joke?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;That will have to wait. For a few minutes
+I heard you reading to-day. Your voice is like a
+bell at sea in the evening. &#8216;Many waters cannot
+quench love,&#8217;&#8221; he quoted, the flash of opals in his
+eyes, though his lips were smiling gently. &#8220;The
+Bible is a wonderful book. Its authors were
+poets who were not spoiled by the curse of rime.
+Does it amuse you to hear me talk of the Bible?&mdash;an
+unregenerate scalawag? Well, it is like this:
+I am something of an authority on illuminated
+manuscripts. I&#8217;ve had to wade through hundreds
+of them. That is the method by which I became
+acquainted with the Scriptures. The Song of
+Songs! Lord love you, if that isn&#8217;t pure pagan,
+what is? I prefer the Proverbs. Ask Cleigh if
+he has that manuscript with him. It&#8217;s in a
+remarkable state of preservation. Remember?
+&#8216;There be three things which are too wonderful for
+me, yea, four which I know not: The way of an
+eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock;
+the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the
+way of a man with a maid.&#8217; Ask Cleigh to show
+you that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh! The name swung her back to the
+original purpose of this visit.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know the Cleighs well?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know the father. He has the gift of strong
+men&mdash;unforgetting and unforgiving. I know little
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span>
+or nothing about the son, except that he is a chip
+of the old block. Queer twist in events, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you any idea what estranged them?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t know they were at outs until the night
+before we sailed. They don&#8217;t speak?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. And it seems so utterly foolish!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Cherchez la femme!</i>&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You believe that was it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is always so, always and eternally the
+woman. I don&#8217;t mean that she is always to
+blame; I mean that she is always there&mdash;in the
+background. But you! I say, now, here&#8217;s the
+job for you! Bring them together. That&#8217;s your
+style. For weeks now you three will be together.
+Within that time you&#8217;ll be able to twist both of
+them round your finger. I wonder if you realize
+it? You&#8217;re not beautiful, but you are something
+better&mdash;splendid. Strong men will always be
+gravitating toward you, wanting comfort, peace.
+You&#8217;re not the kind that sets men&#8217;s hearts on
+fire, that makes absconders, fills the divorce courts,
+and all that. You&#8217;re like a cool hand on a hot
+forehead. And you have a voice as sweet as a
+bell.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Instinct&mdash;the female fear of the trap&mdash;warned
+Jane to be off, but curiosity held her to the chair.
+She was human; and this flattery, free of any
+suggestion of love-making, gave her a warming,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span>
+pleasurable thrill. Still there was a fly in the
+amber. Every woman wishes to be credited with
+hidden fires, to possess equally the power to damn
+men as well as to save them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Has there never been&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A woman? Have I not just said there is always
+a woman?&#8221; He was sardonic now. &#8220;Mine,
+seeing me walk, laughed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She wasn&#8217;t worth it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, she wasn&#8217;t. But when we are twenty the
+heart is blind. So Cleigh and the boy don&#8217;t
+speak?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cleigh hasn&#8217;t injured you in any way, has he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Injured me? Of course not! I am only
+forced by circumstance&mdash;and an oblique sense of
+the comic&mdash;to make a convenience of him. And
+by the Lord Harry, it&#8217;s up to you to help me out!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I?&#8221;&mdash;bewildered.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Jane gazed through the doorway at the sea.
+There was apparently no horizon, no telling
+where the sea ended and the faded blue of the
+sky began. There was something about this sea
+she did not like. She was North-born. It
+seemed to her that there was really less to fear
+from the Atlantic fury than from these oily,
+ingratiating, rolling mounds. They were the
+Uriah Heep of waters. She knew how terrible
+they could be, far more terrible than the fiercest
+nor&#8217;easter down the Atlantic. Typhoon! How
+could a yacht live through a hurricane? She
+turned again toward Cunningham.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are like that,&#8221; she said, irrelevantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Like what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Like the sea.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham rose and peered under the half-drawn
+blind.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That may be complimentary, but hanged if I
+know! Smooth?&mdash;is that what you mean?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Kind of terrible.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He sat down again.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;That rather cuts. I might be terrible. I
+don&#8217;t know&mdash;never met the occasion; but I do
+know that I&#8217;m not treacherous. You certainly
+are not afraid of me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t exactly know. It&#8217;s&mdash;it&#8217;s too peaceful.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To last? I see. But it isn&#8217;t as though I
+were forcing you to go through with the real
+voyage. Only a few days more, and you&#8217;ll have
+seen the last of me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He chuckled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What I meant was,&#8221; she corrected, &#8220;that
+nothing might happen, nobody get hurt. Human
+beings can plan only so far.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s true enough. Every programme is subject
+to immediate change. But, Lord, what a
+lot of programmes go through per schedule! Still,
+you are right. It all depends upon chance. We
+say a thing is cut and dried, but we can&#8217;t prove it.
+But so far as I can see into the future, nothing is
+going to happen, nobody is going to walk the
+plank. Piracy on a basis of 2.75 per cent.&mdash;the
+kick gone out of it! But if you can bring about
+the reconciliation of the Cleighs the old boy will
+not be so keen for chasing me all over the map
+when this job is done.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you tell me what those beads are?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;To be sure I will&mdash;all in due time. What does
+Cleigh call them?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Love beads!&#8221; scornfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;On my solemn word, that&#8217;s exactly what they
+are.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well. But remember, you promise to
+tell me when the time comes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That and other surprising things.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll be going.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come up as often as you like.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham accompanied her to the bridge
+ladder and remained until she was speeding along
+the deck; then he returned to his chart. But the
+chart was no longer able to hold his attention. So
+he levelled his gaze upon the swinging horizon and
+kept it there for a time. Odd fancy, picturing the
+girl on the bridge in a hurricane, her hair streaming
+out behind her, her fine body leaning on the
+wind. A shadow in the doorway broke in upon
+this musing. Cleigh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come in and sit down,&#8221; invited Cunningham.</p>
+<p>But Cleigh ignored the invitation and stepped
+over to the steersman.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Has Miss Norman been in here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How long was she here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know, sir; perhaps half an hour.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh stalked to the door, but there he turned,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span>
+and for the first time since Cunningham had taken
+the yacht Cleigh looked directly, with grim intentness,
+into his enemy&#8217;s eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Battle, murder, and sudden death!&#8221; Cunningham
+laughed. &#8220;You don&#8217;t have to tell me,
+Cleigh! I can see it in your eyes. If Miss Norman
+wants to come here and ask questions, I&#8217;m the
+last man to prevent her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh thumped down the ladder. Cunningham
+was right&mdash;there was murder in his heart.
+He hurried into the main salon, and there he found
+Jane and Dennison conversing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Norman, despite my warning you went
+up to the chart house.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I had some questions to ask.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I forbid you emphatically. I am responsible
+for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am no longer your prisoner, Mr. Cleigh; I
+am Mr. Cunningham&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You went up there alone?&#8221; demanded Dennison.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not? I&#8217;m not afraid. He will not break
+his word to me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Damn him!&#8221; roared Dennison.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where are you going?&#8221; she cried, seizing him
+by the sleeve.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To have it out with him! I can&#8217;t stand this
+any longer!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And what will become of me&mdash;if anything
+happens to you, or anything happens to him?
+What about the crew if he isn&#8217;t on hand to hold
+them?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The muscular tenseness of the arm she held relaxed.
+But the look he gave his father was on a
+par with that which Cleigh had so recently spent
+upon Cunningham. Cleigh could not support it,
+and turned his head aside.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. But mind you keep in sight! If
+you will insist upon talking with the scoundrel, at
+least permit me to be within call. What do you
+want to talk to him for, anyhow?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Neither of you will stoop to ask him questions,
+so I had to. And I have learned one thing. He is
+going pearl hunting.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What? Off the Catwick? There&#8217;s no pearl
+oyster in that region,&#8221; Dennison declared.
+&#8220;Either he is lying or the Catwick is a blind. The
+only chance he&#8217;d have would be somewhere in the
+Sulu Archipelago; and this time of year the pearl
+fleets will be as thick as flies in molasses. Of
+course if he is aware of some deserted atoll, why,
+there might be something in it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you ever hunted pearls?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In a second-hand sort of way. But if pearls
+are his game, why commit piracy when he could
+have chartered a tramp to carry his crew? There&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span>
+more than one old bucket hereabouts ready to his
+hand for coal and stores. He&#8217;ll need a shoe spoon
+to get inside or by the Sulu fleets, since the oyster
+has been pretty well neglected these five years, and
+every official pearler will be hiking down there.
+But it requires a certain amount of capital and a
+stack of officially stamped paper, and I don&#8217;t
+fancy Cunningham has either.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh smiled dryly, but offered no comment.
+He knew all about Cunningham&#8217;s capital.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did he say anything about being picked up by
+another boat?&#8221; asked Dennison.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; answered Jane. &#8220;But I don&#8217;t believe it
+will be hard for me to make him tell me that. I
+believe that he will keep his word, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jane, he has broken the law of the sea. I don&#8217;t
+know what the penalty is these days, but it used to
+be hanging to the yard-arm. He won&#8217;t be particular
+about his word if by breaking it he can save
+his skin. He&#8217;s been blarneying you. You&#8217;ve let
+his plausible tongue and handsome face befog
+you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is not true!&#8221; she flared. Afterward she
+wondered what caused the flash of perversity.
+&#8220;And I resent your inference!&#8221; she added with
+uplifted chin.</p>
+<p>Dennison whirled her about savagely, stared
+into her eyes, then walked to the companion, up
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span>
+which he disappeared. This rudeness astonished
+her profoundly. She appealed silently to the father.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We are riding a volcano,&#8221; said Cleigh. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+not sure but he&#8217;s setting some trap for you. He
+may need you as a witness for the defense. Of
+course I can&#8217;t control your actions, but it would
+relieve me immensely if you&#8217;d give him a wide
+berth.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He was not the one who brought me aboard.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. And the more I look at it, the more I am
+convinced that you came on board of your own
+volition. You had two or three good opportunities
+to call for assistance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You believe that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve as much right to believe that as you have
+that Cunningham will keep his word.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; she cried, but it was an outburst of anger.
+And it had a peculiar twist, too. She was furious
+because both father and son were partly correct;
+and yet there was no diminution of that trust she
+was putting in Cunningham. &#8220;Next you&#8217;ll be
+hinting that I&#8217;m in collusion with him!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Only he is an extraordinarily fascinating
+rogue, and you are wearing the tinted goggles of
+romance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fearing that she might utter something regrettable,
+she flew down the port passage and
+entered her cabin, where she remained until dinner.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span>
+She spent the intervening hours endeavouring to
+analyze the cause of her temper, but the cause was
+as elusive as quicksilver. Why should she trust
+Cunningham? What was the basis of this trust?
+He had, as Denny said, broken the law of the sea.
+Was there a bit of black sheep in her, and was the
+man calling to it? And this perversity of hers
+might create an estrangement between her and
+Denny; she must not let that happen. The
+singular beauty of the man&#8217;s face, his amazing
+career, and his pathetic deformity&mdash;was that it?</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>&#8220;Where&#8217;s the captain?&#8221; asked Cunningham,
+curiously, as he noted the vacant chair at the table
+that night.</p>
+<p>&#8220;On deck, I suppose.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t he dining to-night?&#8221;&mdash;an accent of
+suspicion creeping into his voice. &#8220;He isn&#8217;t
+contemplating making a fool of himself, is he?
+He&#8217;ll get hurt if he approaches the wireless.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Togo,&#8221; broke in Cleigh, &#8220;bring the avocats
+and the pineapple.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham turned upon him with a laugh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cleigh, when I spin this yarn some day I&#8217;ll
+carry you through it as the man who never batted
+an eye. I can see now how you must have bluffed
+Wall Street out of its boots.&#8221;</p>
+<p>When Cunningham saw that Jane was distrait
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span>
+he made no attempt to pull her out of it. He ate
+his dinner, commenting only occasionally. Still,
+he bade her a cheery good-night as he returned to
+the chart house, where he stayed continually,
+never quite certain what old Captain Newton
+might do to the wheel and the compass if left
+alone too long.</p>
+<p>Dennison came in immediately after Cunningham&#8217;s
+departure and contritely apologized to Jane
+for his rudeness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose I&#8217;m on the rack; nerves all raw; tearing
+me to pieces to sit down and twiddle my
+thumbs. Will you forgive me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course I will! I understand. You are all
+anxious about me. Theoretically, this yacht is a
+volcano, and you&#8217;re trying to keep me from kicking
+off the lid. But I&#8217;ve an idea that the lid will stay
+on tightly if we make believe we are Mr. Cunningham&#8217;s
+guests. But it is almost impossible to suspect
+that anything is wrong. Whenever a member
+of the crew comes in sight he is properly polite,
+just as he would be on a liner. If I do go to the
+bridge again I&#8217;ll give you warning. Good-night,
+Mr. Cleigh, I&#8217;ll read to you in the morning. Good-night&mdash;Denny.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh, sighing contentedly, dipped his fingers
+into the finger bowl and brushed his lips.</p>
+<p>The son drank a cup of coffee hastily, lit his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span>
+pipe, and went on deck. He proceeded directly
+to the chart house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cunningham, I&#8217;ll swallow my pride and ask a
+favour of you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221;&mdash;in a neutral tone.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The cook tells me that all the wine and liquor
+are in the dry-stores compartment. Will you open
+it and let me chuck the stuff overboard?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said Cunningham, promptly. &#8220;When
+I turn this yacht back to your father not a single
+guy rope will be out of order. It would be a fine
+piece of work to throw all those rare vintages over
+the rail simply to appease an unsubstantial fear on
+your part! No!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But if the men should break in? And it would
+be easy, because it is nearer them than us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank your father for building the deck like a
+city flat. But if the boys should break in, there&#8217;s
+the answer,&#8221; said Cunningham, laying his regulation
+revolver on the chart table. &#8220;And every
+mother&#8217;s son of them knows it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You refuse?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. But if anything happens I&#8217;ll be on
+top of you, and all the bullets in that clip won&#8217;t
+stop me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Captain, you bore me. Your father and the
+girl are good sports. You ought to be one. I&#8217;ve
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span>
+given you the freedom of the yacht for the girl&#8217;s
+sake when caution bids me dump you into the
+brig. I begin to suspect that your misfortunes are
+due to a violent temper. Run along with your
+thunder; I don&#8217;t want you hurt.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I come through this alive&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll join your dad peeling off my hide&mdash;if
+you can catch me!&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was with the greatest effort that Dennison
+crushed down the desire to leap upon his tormentor.
+He stood tense for a moment, then stepped
+out upon the bridge. His fury was suffocating
+him, and he realized that he was utterly helpless.</p>
+<p>Ten minutes later the crew in their quarters
+were astonished to see the old man&#8217;s son enter.
+None of them stirred.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I say, any you chaps got an extra suit of twill?
+This uniform is getting too thick for this latitude.
+I&#8217;m fair melting down to the bone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure!&#8221; bellowed a young giant, swinging out
+of his bunk. He rummaged round for a space and
+brought forth a light-weight khaki shirt and a pair
+of ducks. &#8220;Guess these&#8217;ll fit you, sir.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks. Navy stores?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir. You&#8217;re welcome.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison&#8217;s glance travelled from face to face,
+and he had to admit that there was none of the
+criminal type here. They might carry through
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span>
+decently. Nevertheless, hereafter he would sleep on
+the lounge in the main salon. If any tried to force
+the dry-stores door he would be likely to hear it.</p>
+<p>At eleven o&#8217;clock the following morning there
+occurred an episode which considerably dampened
+Jane&#8217;s romantical point of view regarding this
+remarkable voyage. Cleigh had gone below for
+some illuminated manuscripts and Dennison was
+out of sight for the moment. She leaned over the
+rail and watched the flying fish. Suddenly out
+of nowhere came the odour of whisky.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You ought to take a trip up to the cutwater
+at night and see the flying fish in the phosphorescence.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She did not stir. Instinctively she knew who
+the owner of this voice would be&mdash;the man Cunningham
+called Flint. A minute&mdash;an unbearable
+minute&mdash;passed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh! Too haughty to be a good fellow, huh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Footsteps, a rush of wind, a scuffling, and an
+oath brought her head about. She saw Flint go
+balancing and stumbling backward, finally to
+sprawl on his hands and knees, and following him,
+in an unmistakable attitude, was Dennison. Jane
+was beginning to understand these Cleighs; their
+rage was terrible because it was always cold.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Denny!&#8221; she called.</p>
+<p>But Dennison continued on toward Flint.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Flint was a powerful man, or had been.
+The surprise of the attack over, he jumped
+to his feet, and blazing with murderous
+fury rushed Dennison. Jane saw a tangle of
+arms, and out of this tangle came a picture that
+would always remain vivid&mdash;Flint practically
+dangling at the end of Dennison&#8217;s right arm. The
+rogue tore and heaved and kicked and struck, but
+futilely, because his reach was shorter. Dennison
+let go unexpectedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Listen to me, you filthy beachcomber! If
+you ever dare speak to Miss Norman again or
+come within ten feet of her I&#8217;ll kill you with bare
+hands! There are no guns on board this yacht&mdash;bare
+hands. Now go back to your master and say
+that I&#8217;d like to do the same to him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flint, his hands touching his throat with inquiring
+solicitude&mdash;Flint eyed Dennison with that
+mixture of pain and astonishment that marks the
+face of a man who has been grossly deceived.
+Slowly he revolved on his shaking legs and staggered
+forward, shortly to disappear round the deck
+house.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Denny, you&#8217;ve done a foolish thing!
+You&#8217;ve shamed that man before me and put murder
+in his heart. It isn&#8217;t as if we were running
+the yacht. We are prisoners of that man and his
+fellows. It would have been enough for you to
+have stepped in between.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t any parlour varnish left, Jane. His
+shoulder was almost touching yours. It was an
+intentional insult, and that was enough for me. The
+dog! Still looking at the business romantically?&#8221;</p>
+<p>His tone was bitter. Her reproach, no doubt
+justified, cut deeply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I&#8217;m beginning to become a little afraid&mdash;afraid
+that the men may get out of hand. I don&#8217;t
+care what you and your father think, but I believe
+Cunningham honestly wishes us to reach the
+Catwick without any conflict.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, Cunningham!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There you go again&mdash;angry and bitter! Why
+can&#8217;t you take it sensibly, like your father?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My father doesn&#8217;t happen to be&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He stopped with mystifying abruptness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Doesn&#8217;t happen to be what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The sort of fool I am!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re not so good a comrade as you were.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t you understand? I&#8217;ve been stood upon
+my head. The worry about you on one side and
+the contact with my father on the other would be
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span>
+sufficient. But Cunningham and this pirate crew
+as a tail to the kite! But, thank God, I had the wit
+to come in search of you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thank God every minute, Denny! You are
+very strong,&#8221; she added, shyly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Glad of that, too. But I repeat, I&#8217;ve lost the
+parlour varnish and the art of parlour talk. For
+seven years I&#8217;ve been wandering in strange places,
+most of them hard; so I say what I think and act
+on the spur. That dog had liquor on his breath.
+Is Cunningham secretly letting them into the dry-stores?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The man may have brought it aboard at
+Shanghai. What a horrible thing a great war
+is! In a week it knocks aside all the bars of
+restraint it took years to erect. Could a venture
+like this have happened in 1913? I doubt it.
+There comes your father. But who is the man
+with him? He&#8217;s been hurt.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Father&#8217;s watchdog. They had to beat him up
+to get his gun away from him. That was the
+racket we heard. Evidently Father expects you to
+read to him, so I&#8217;ll take a constitutional.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, where&#8217;s your uniform?&#8221; she cried.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Laid it aside. From now on it will be stuffy.
+Those military boots were killing me. I borrowed
+the rig from one of the pirates, but I&#8217;ll have to go
+barefoot.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you come to your chair soon? I shall
+worry otherwise. You might run into that man
+again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shan&#8217;t go below,&#8221; he promised, starting off.</p>
+<p>Twenty thousand at compound interest for
+seven years, he thought, as he made the first turn.
+A tidy sum to start life with. Could he swallow
+his pride? And yet what hope was there of making
+a real living? He had never specialized in
+anything, and the world was calling for specialists
+and discarding the others. Another point to consider:
+Foot-loose for seven years, could he stand
+the shackles of office work, routine, the sameness
+day in and day out? He was returning to the
+States without the least idea what he wanted to
+do; that was the disturbing phase of it. If only he
+were keen for something! A typical son of the rich
+man. The only point in his favour was that he
+had not spent his allowances up and down Broadway.
+No, he would never touch a dollar of that
+money. That was final.</p>
+<p>What lay back of this sudden desire to make
+good in the world? Love! There wasn&#8217;t the
+slightest use in lying to himself. He wanted Jane
+Norman with all the blood in his body, with all the
+marrow in his bones; and he had nothing to offer
+her but empty hands.</p>
+<p>He shot a glance toward the bridge. And
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span>
+because he had no right to speak&mdash;obligated to silence
+by two reasons&mdash;that easy-speaking scoundrel
+might trap her fancy. It could not be denied
+that he was handsome, but he was nevertheless a
+rogue. The two reasons why he must not speak
+were potent. In the first place, he had nothing
+to offer; in the second place, the terror she was no
+doubt hiding bravely would serve only to confuse
+her&mdash;that is, she might confuse a natural desire for
+protection with something deeper and tenderer,
+and then discover her mistake when it was too late.</p>
+<p>What was she going to ask of his father when the
+time came for reparation? That puzzled him.</p>
+<p>He made the rounds steadily for an hour, and
+during this time Jane frequently looked over the
+top of the manuscript she was reading aloud. At
+length she laid the manuscript upon her knees.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Cleigh, what is it that makes art treasures
+so priceless?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Generally the depth of the buyer&#8217;s purse.
+That is what they say of me in the great auction
+rooms.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you don&#8217;t buy them just because you are
+rich enough to outbid somebody else?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I am actually fond of all the treasures I
+possess. Aside from this, it is the most fascinating
+game there is. The original! A painting that
+Holbein laid his own brushes on, mixed his own
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span>
+paint for! I have then something of the man,
+tangible, visible; something of his beautiful dreams,
+his poverty, his success. There before me is the
+authentic labour of his hand, which was guided by
+the genius of his brain&mdash;before machinery spoiled
+mankind. Oh, yes, machinery has made me rich!
+It has given the proletariat the privilege of wearing
+yellow diamonds and riding about in flivvers.
+That must be admitted. But to have lived in
+those days when ambition thought only in beauty!
+To have been the boon companions of men like
+Da Vinci, Cellini, Michelangelo! Then there are
+the adventures of this concrete dream of the artist.
+I can trace it back to the bare studio in which it
+was conceived, follow its journeys, its abiding
+places, down to the hour it comes to me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jane stared at him astonishedly. All that had
+been crampedly hidden in his soul flowed into his
+face, warming and mellowing it, even beautifying
+it. Cleigh went on:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where will it go when I have done my little
+span? What new adventures lie in store for it?
+Across the Ponte Vecchio in Florence runs a
+gallery of portraits: at the south end of this
+gallery there is or was a corner given over to a
+copyist. He strikes you dumb with the cleverness
+of his work, but he has only an eye and a hand&mdash;he
+hasn&#8217;t a soul. A copy is to the original what a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span>
+dummy is to a live man, no matter how amazingly
+well done the copy is. The original, the dream;
+nothing else satisfies the true collector.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t know,&#8221; said Jane, &#8220;that you had so
+much romance in you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Romance?&#8221; It was almost a bark.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, certainly. No human being could love
+beauty the way you do and not be romantic.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Romantic!&#8221; Cleigh leaned back in his chair.
+&#8220;That&#8217;s a new point of view for Tungsten Cleigh.
+That&#8217;s what my enemies call me&mdash;the hardest
+metal on earth. Romantic!&#8221; He chuckled. &#8220;To
+hear a woman call me romantic!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It does not follow that to be romantic one must
+be sentimental. Romance is something heroic,
+imaginative, big; it isn&#8217;t a young man and a girl
+spooning on a park bench. I myself am romantic,
+but nobody could possibly call me sentimental.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, if I knew that we&#8217;d come through this
+without anybody getting hurt I&#8217;d be gloriously
+happy. All my life I&#8217;ve been cooped up. For a
+little while to be free! But I don&#8217;t like that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She indicated Dodge, who sat in Dennison&#8217;s
+chair, his head bandaged, his arm in a sling,
+thousands of miles from his native plains, at odds
+with his environment. His lean brown jaws were
+set and the pupils of his blue eyes were mere pin
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span>
+points. During the discussion of art, during the
+reading, he had not stirred.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mean,&#8221; said Cleigh, gravely, &#8220;that Dodge
+may be only the beginning?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Your&mdash;Captain Dennison had an encounter
+with the man Flint before you came
+up. He is very strong and&mdash;and a bit intolerant.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221; Cleigh rubbed his jaw and smiled
+ruminatively. &#8220;He was always rather handy
+with his fists. Did he kill the ruffian?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, held him at arm&#8217;s length and threatened
+to kill him. I&#8217;m afraid Flint will not accept the
+situation with good grace.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Flint? I never liked that rogue&#8217;s face.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He has found liquor somewhere, and I saw
+murder in his eyes. Denny isn&#8217;t afraid, and that&#8217;s
+why I am&mdash;afraid he&#8217;ll run amuck uselessly. His
+very strength will react against him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was like that thirty years ago.&#8221; So she
+called him Denny? Cleigh laid his hand over
+hers. &#8220;Keep your chin up. There&#8217;s a revolver
+handy should we need it. I dare not carry it for
+fear Cunningham might discover and confiscate
+it. Six bullets.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And if worse comes to worse, will&mdash;will you
+save one for me? Please don&#8217;t let Denny do it!
+You are old, and if you lived after it wouldn&#8217;t be
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span>
+in your thoughts so long as it would be in his&mdash;if
+he killed me. Will you promise?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;if worse comes to worse. Will you forgive
+me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do. But still I&#8217;m going to hold you to your
+word.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll pay the score, whatever it is. Now suppose
+you come below with me and take a look at
+the paintings? You haven&#8217;t seen my cabin yet.&#8221;</p>
+<p>What was this unusual young woman going to
+ask of him? He wondered. The more he thought
+over it the more convinced he was that she had
+assisted in the abduction.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>After they had gone below Dennison
+dropped into Jane&#8217;s chair. Immediately
+Dodge began to talk: &#8220;So you nearly
+throttled that ornery coyote, huh? Whata you
+know about this round-up? The three o&#8217; &#8217;em
+came in, and I never smelt nothin&#8217; until they were
+on top o&#8217; me. How should I smell anythin&#8217;?
+Hobnobbing together for days, how was I to know
+they were a bunch of pirates? Is your old man
+sore?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Naturally.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I mean appertainin&#8217; to me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see how he could be. Who took care
+of you&mdash;bound you up?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That nice-lookin&#8217; greaser with the slue foot.
+Soft speakin&#8217; like a woman and an eye like a
+timber wolf. Some <i>hombre</i>! Where we bound
+for?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;God knows!&#8221;&mdash;dejectedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bad as that, huh? Your girl?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No place for a girl. If they hadn&#8217;t busted my
+arm I wouldn&#8217;t care so much! If it comes to a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span>
+show-down I won&#8217;t be no good to anybody.
+Gimme my guns and we&#8217;d be headin&#8217; home in five
+minutes. These <i>hombres</i> know somethin&#8217; o&#8217; my
+gun play. Gee, it&#8217;s lonesome here!&#8221; Dodge
+mused for a moment. &#8220;Say, what&#8217;s your old
+man&#8217;s idea hog-tyin&#8217; you that-a-way?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;ll tell you perhaps.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Uh-huh. Say, what did the Lord make all
+that stuff for?&#8221; with a gesture toward the brazen
+sea. &#8220;What&#8217;s it good for, anyhow?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But for the sea we wouldn&#8217;t have any oysters
+or codfish,&#8221; said Dennison, soberly.</p>
+<p>Dodge chuckled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oysters and codfish! Say, you&#8217;re all right!
+Never knew the old man had a son until you blew
+in. Back in New York nobody ever said nothin&#8217;
+about you. Where you been?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lots of places.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any ridin&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Some.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can you shoot?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A little.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Kill any o&#8217; them Bolsheviks?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That would be guesswork. Did you ever kill a
+man?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nope. Didn&#8217;t have to. I&#8217;m pretty good on
+the draw, and where I come from they knew it and
+didn&#8217;t bother me.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I see.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shootin&#8217; these days is all in the movies. I was
+ridin&#8217; for a film company when your old man
+lassoed me for this job. Never know when you&#8217;re
+well off&mdash;huh? I thought there wouldn&#8217;t be
+nothin&#8217; to do but grub pile three times a day and
+the old man&#8217;s cheroots in between. And here I be
+now, ridin&#8217; along with a bunch of pirates! Whata
+you know about that? And some of them nice boys,
+too. If they were riff-raff, barroom bums, I could
+get a line on it. But I&#8217;ll have to pass the buck.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You haven&#8217;t got an extra gun anywhere, have
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;d be headin&#8217; east if I had&#8221;&mdash;grimly. &#8220;I&#8217;d
+have pared down the odds this mornin&#8217;. That
+<i>hombre</i> with the hop-a-long didn&#8217;t leave me a quill
+toothpick. Was you thinkin&#8217; of startin&#8217; somethin&#8217;?&#8221;&mdash;hopefully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, but I&#8217;d feel more comfortable if Miss Norman
+could carry a gun.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Uh-huh. Say, she&#8217;s all right. No hysterics.
+Ain&#8217;t many of &#8217;em that wouldn&#8217;t &#8217;a&#8217; been snivellin&#8217;
+all day and night in her bunk. Been listenin&#8217; to
+her readin&#8217;. Gee, you&#8217;d think we were floatin&#8217;
+round this codfish lake just for the fun of it! She
+won&#8217;t run to cover if a bust-up comes. None
+whatever! And I bet she can cook, too. Them
+kind can always cook.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span></p>
+<p>Conversation lapsed.</p>
+<p>Below, Jane was passing through an unusual
+experience.</p>
+<p>Said Cleigh at the start: &#8220;I&#8217;m going to show
+you the paintings&mdash;there are fourteen in all. I
+will tell you the history of each. And above all,
+please bear in mind the price of each picture.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll remember.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But she thought the request an odd one, coming
+from the man as she knew him.</p>
+<p>Most of the treasures were in his own spacious
+cabin. There was a Napoleonic corner&mdash;a Meissonier
+on one side and a Detaille on the other. In
+a stationary cabinet there were a pair of stirrups, a
+riding crop, a book on artillery tactics, a pair of
+slippers beaded with seed pearls, and a buckle
+studded with sapphires.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What are those?&#8221; she asked, attracted.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They belonged to the Emperor and his first
+Empress.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Napoleon?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Corsican. Next to the masters, I&#8217;ve a
+passion for things genuinely Napoleonic. The
+hussar is by Meissonier and the skirmish by
+Detaille.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How much is this corner worth?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t say, except that I would not part with
+those objects for a hundred thousand; and there
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span>
+are friends of mine who would pay half that sum
+for them&mdash;behind my back. This is a Da Vinci.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Half an hour passed. Jane honestly tried to be
+thrilled by the splendour of the names she heard,
+but her eye was always travelling back toward the
+slippers and the buckle. The Empress Josephine!
+Romance and gallantry in the old, old days!</p>
+<p>&#8220;The painting in your cabin is by Holbein. It
+cost me sixteen thousand. Now let us go out and
+look at the rug. That is the apple of my eye. It
+is the second finest example of the animal rug in
+the world. A sheet of pure gold, half an inch
+thick, covering the rug from end to end, would not
+equal its worth.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jane admired the rug, but she would have preferred
+the gold. Her sense of the beautiful was
+alive, but there was always in her mind the genteel
+poverty of the past. She was beginning to understand.
+To go in quest of the beautiful required
+an unlimited purse and an endless leisure; and she
+would have never the one nor the other.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How much gold would that be?&#8221; she inquired,
+naïvely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nearly eighty thousand. Have you kept in
+mind the sums I have given you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Let me see&mdash;good heavens, a quarter of
+a million! But why do you carry them about like
+this?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Because I&#8217;m something of a rogue myself. I
+could not enjoy the rug and the paintings except
+on board. The French, the Italian, and the
+Spanish governments could confiscate every solitary
+painting except the Meissonier and the Detaille,
+for the simple reason that they were stolen.
+Oh, I did not steal them myself; I merely purchased
+them with one eye shut. If I hadn&#8217;t
+bought them they would have gone to some other
+collector. Do you get a glimmer of the truth
+now?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The truth?&#8221;&mdash;perplexedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;where Cunningham will get his pearls?&#8221;&mdash;bitterly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I could not touch him. A quarter of a
+million! And with his knowledge of the secret
+marts he could easily dispose of them. Worth a
+bold stroke, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But how will he get them off the yacht&mdash;transship
+them?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her faith in Cunningham began to waver. A
+quarter of a million! The thought was as bells in
+her ears.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of the outside issues I have no inkling. But I
+have shown you his pearls.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But the crew! Certainly they will not return
+to any port with us. And why should he lie to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span>
+me? There is no reason in the world why he
+shouldn&#8217;t have told me, if he had committed
+piracy to obtain your paintings. And he was
+poring over maps.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Some tramp is probably going to pick him up.
+He&#8217;s ordered us away from the wireless. Cunningham
+must have his joke, so he is beguiling you
+with twaddle about hunting pearls. He is robbing
+me of my treasures, and I can&#8217;t strike back on
+that count. But I can land him in prison on the
+count of piracy; and by the Lord Harry, I&#8217;ll do it
+if it takes my last dollar! He&#8217;ll rue this adventure,
+or they call me Tungsten for nothing!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wanted so to believe in him!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not difficult to understand why. He has a
+silver tongue and a face like John the Baptist&mdash;del
+Sarto&#8217;s&mdash;and you are romantic. The picture
+of him has enlisted your sympathies. You are
+filled with pity that he should be so richly endowed,
+facially and mentally, and to be a cripple
+such as children laugh over.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you never considered what mental
+anguish must be the portion of a man whose body
+is twisted as his is? I know. So I pity him profoundly,
+even if he is a rogue. That&#8217;s all I was
+born for&mdash;to pity and to bind up. And I pity you,
+Mr. Cleigh, you who have walled your heart in
+granite.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re plain-spoken, young lady.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, certain sick minds need plain speaking.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then my mind is sick?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And only a little while gone it was romantic!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Two hundred million hands begging for bread,
+and you crossing the world for a string of glass
+beads whose value is only sentimental!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t let that pass, Miss Norman. I have
+trusted lieutenants who attend to my charities.
+I&#8217;m not a miser.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are, with the greatest thing in the world&mdash;human
+love.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shall a man give it where it is not wanted?
+But enough of this talk. I have shown you Cunningham&#8217;s
+pearls.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>Night and wheeling stars. It was stuffy in the
+crew&#8217;s quarters. Half naked, the men lolled
+about, some in their bunks, some on the floor.
+The orders were that none should sleep on deck
+during the voyage to the Catwick.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All because the old man brings a skirt on board,
+we have to sweat blood in the forepeak!&#8221; growled
+Flint. &#8220;We&#8217;ve got a right to a little sport.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure we have!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The speaker was sitting on the edge of his bunk.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span>
+He was a fine specimen of young manhood, with a
+pleasant, rollicking Irish countenance. He looked
+as if he had been brought up clean and had carried
+his cleanliness into the world. The blue anchor
+and love birds on his formidable forearms proclaimed
+him a deep-sea man. It was he who had
+given Dennison the shirt and the ducks.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure, we have a right to a little sport! But
+why call in the undertaker to help us out? You
+poor fish, all the way from San Francisco you&#8217;ve
+been grousing because shore leaves weren&#8217;t long
+enough for you to get prime soused in. What&#8217;s
+two months in our young lives?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve always been free to do as I liked.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You look it! I&#8217;ll say so! The chief laid down
+the rules of this game, and we all took oath to
+follow those rules. The trouble with you is, you&#8217;ve
+been reading dime novels. Where do you think
+you are&mdash;raiding the Spanish Main? There&#8217;s
+every chance of our coming out top hole, as those
+lime-juicers say, with oodles of dough and a whole
+skin.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, don&#8217;t I know this Sulu game? I tell you,
+if he does find his atoll there won&#8217;t be any shell.
+Not a chance in a hundred! Somebody&#8217;s been
+giving him a song and dance. As I get the dope,
+some pearl-hunting friend of his croaks and leaves
+him this chart. Old stuff! I bet a million boobs
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span>
+have croaked trying to locate the red cross on a
+chart.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why the devil did you sign on, then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wanted a little fun, and I&#8217;m going to have it.
+There&#8217;s champagne and Napoleon brandy in the
+dry-stores. Wouldn&#8217;t hurt us to have a little of it.
+If we&#8217;ve got to go to jail we might as well go lit up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Flint, you talk too much,&#8221; said a voice from
+the doorway. It was Cunningham&#8217;s. He leaned
+carelessly against the jamb. The crew fell silent
+and motionless. &#8220;Boys, you&#8217;ve heard Hennessy.
+Play it my way and you&#8217;ll wear diamonds; mess it
+up and you&#8217;ll all wear hemp. The world will forgive
+us when it finds out we&#8217;ve only made it
+laugh.&#8221; Cunningham strolled over to Flint, who
+rose to his feet. &#8220;Flint, I want that crimp-house
+whisky you&#8217;ve been swigging on the sly. No back
+talk! Hand it over!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And if I don&#8217;t?&#8221; said Flint, his jaw jutting.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Cunningham did not answer immediately.
+From Flint his glance went roving
+from man to man, as if trying to read
+what they expected of him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Flint, you were recommended to me for your
+knowledge of the Sulu lingo. We&#8217;ll need a crew
+of divers, and we&#8217;ll have to pick them up secretly.
+That&#8217;s your job. It&#8217;s your only job outside doing
+your watch with the shovel below. Somehow
+you&#8217;ve got the wrong idea. You think this is a
+junket of the oil-lamp period. All wrong! You
+don&#8217;t know me, and that&#8217;s a pity; because if you
+did know something about me you&#8217;d walk carefully.
+When we&#8217;re off this yacht, I don&#8217;t say. If
+you want what old-timers used to call their pannikin
+of rum, you&#8217;ll be welcome to it. But on board
+the <i>Wanderer</i>, nothing doing. Get your duffel out.
+I&#8217;ll have a look at it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get it yourself,&#8221; said Flint.</p>
+<p>Cunningham appeared small and boyish beside
+the ex-beachcomber.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m speaking to you decently, Flint, when I
+ought to bash in your head.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span></p>
+<p>The tone was gentle and level.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you try it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The expectant men thereupon witnessed a feat
+that was not only deadly in its precision but oddly
+grotesque. Cunningham&#8217;s right hand flew out
+with the sinister quickness of a cobra&#8217;s strike, and
+he had Flint&#8217;s brawny wrist in grip. He danced
+about, twisted and lurched until he came to an
+abrupt stop behind Flint&#8217;s back. Flint&#8217;s mouth
+began to bend at the corners&mdash;a grimace.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll break it yourself, Flint, if you move
+another inch,&#8221; said Cunningham, nonchalantly.
+&#8220;This is the gentlest trick I have in the bag. Cut
+out the booze until we&#8217;re off this yacht. Be a
+good sport and play the game according to contract.
+I don&#8217;t like these side shows. But you
+wanted me to show you. Want to call it off?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Sweat began to bead Flint&#8217;s forehead. He was
+straining every muscle in his body to minimize
+that inexorable turning of his elbow and shoulder.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The stuff is in Number Two bunker,&#8221; he said,
+with a ghastly grin. &#8220;I&#8217;ll chuck it over.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There, now!&#8221; Cunningham stepped back.
+&#8220;I might have made it your neck. But I&#8217;m
+patient, because I want this part of the game to
+go through according to schedule. When I turn
+back this yacht I want nothing missing but the
+meals I&#8217;ve had.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span></p>
+<p>Flint rubbed his arm, scowling, and walked over
+to his bunk.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Boys,&#8221; said Cunningham, &#8220;so far you&#8217;ve been
+bricks. Shortly we&#8217;ll be heading southeast on our
+own. Wherever I am known, men will tell you
+that I never break my word. I promised you
+that we&#8217;d come through with clean heels. Something
+has happened which we could not forestall.
+There is a woman on board. It is not necessary
+to say that she is under my protection.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He clumped out into the passage.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, say!&#8221; burst out the young sailor named
+Hennessy. &#8220;I&#8217;m a tough guy, but I couldn&#8217;t
+have turned that trick. Hey, you! If you&#8217;ve
+got any hooch in the coal bunkers, heave it over.
+I&#8217;m telling you! These soft-spoken guys are the
+kind I lay off, believe you me! I&#8217;ve seen all kinds,
+and I know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did they kick you out of the Navy?&#8221; snarled
+Flint.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, are you asking me to do it?&#8221; flared the
+Irishman. &#8220;You poor boob, you&#8217;d be in the sick
+bay if there hadn&#8217;t been a lady on board.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A lady?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I said a lady! Stand up, you scut!&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Flint rolled into his bunk and turned his
+face to the partition.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span></p>
+<p>Cunningham leaned against the port rail.
+These bursts of fury always left him depressed.
+He was not a fighting man at all and fate was
+always flinging him into physical contests. He
+might have killed the fool: he had been in a killing
+mood. He was tired. Somehow the punch was
+gone from the affair, the thrill. Why should that
+be?</p>
+<p>For years he had been planning something like
+this, and then to have it taste like stale wine!
+Vaguely he knew that he had made a discovery.
+The girl! If he were poring over his chart, his
+glance would drift away; if he were reading, the
+printed page had a peculiar way of vanishing. Of
+course it was all nonsense. But that night in
+Shanghai something had drawn him irresistibly to
+young Cleigh&#8217;s table. It might have been the
+colour of her hair. At any rate, he hadn&#8217;t noticed
+the beads until he had spoken to young Cleigh.</p>
+<p>Glass beads! Queer twist. A little trinket,
+worthless except for sentimental reasons, throwing
+these lives together. Of course an oil would have
+lured the elder Cleigh across the Pacific quite as
+successfully. The old chap had been particularly
+keen for a sea voyage after having been cooped up
+for four years. But in the event of baiting the
+trap with a painting neither the girl nor the son
+would have been on board. And Flint could have
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span>
+had his noggin without anybody disturbing him,
+even if the contract read otherwise.</p>
+<p>Law-abiding pirates! How the world would
+chuckle if the yarn ever reached the newspapers!
+He had Cleigh in the hollow of his hand. In fancy
+he saw Cleigh placing his grievance with the
+British Admiralty. He could imagine the conversation,
+too.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They returned the yacht in perfect condition?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did they steal anything?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham could positively see Cleigh&#8217;s jowls
+redden as he shook his head to the query.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sorry. You can&#8217;t expect us to waste coal
+hunting for a scoundrel who only borrowed your
+yacht.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But what was the row between Cleigh and his
+son? That was a puzzler. Not a word! They
+ignored each other absolutely. These dinners
+were queer games, to be sure. All three men
+spoke to the girl, but neither of the Cleighs
+spoke to him or to each other. A string of glass
+beads!</p>
+<p>What about himself? What had caused his
+exuberance to die away, his enthusiasm to grow
+dim? Why, a month gone he would burst into
+such gales of laughter that his eyes would fill with
+tears at the thought of this hour! And the wine
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span>
+tasted flat. The greatest sea joke of the age, and
+he couldn&#8217;t boil up over it any more!</p>
+<p>Love? He had burnt himself out long ago.
+But had it been love? Rather had it not been a
+series of false dawns? To a weepy-waily woman
+he would have offered the same courtesies, but
+she would not have drawn his thoughts in any
+manner. And this one kept entering his thoughts
+at all times. That would be a joke, wouldn&#8217;t it?
+At this day to feel the scorch of genuine passion!</p>
+<p>To dig a pit for Cleigh and to stumble into
+another himself! In setting this petard he hadn&#8217;t
+got out of range quickly enough. His sense of
+humour was so keen that he laughed aloud, with a
+gesture which invited the gods to join him.</p>
+<p>Jane, who had been watching the solitary
+figure from the corner of the deck house and
+wondering who it was, recognized the voice. The
+cabin had been stuffy, her own mental confusion
+had driven sleep away, so she had stolen on deck
+for the purpose of viewing the splendours of the
+Oriental night. The stars that seemed so near, so
+soft; the sea that tossed their reflections hither
+and yon, or spun a star magically into a silver
+thread and immediately rolled it up again; the
+brilliant electric blue of the phosphorescence and
+the flash of flying fish or a porpoise that ought to
+have been home and in bed.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span></p>
+<p>She hesitated. She was puzzled. She was not
+afraid of him&mdash;the puzzle lay somewhere else.
+She was a little afraid of herself. She was afraid
+of anything that could not immediately be translated
+into ordinary terms of expression. The man
+frankly wakened her pity. He seemed as lonely
+as the sea itself. Slue-Foot! And somewhere a
+woman had laughed at him. Perhaps that had
+changed everything, made him what he was.</p>
+<p>She wondered if she would ever be able to return
+to the shell out of which the ironic humour
+of chance had thrust her. Wondered if she could
+pick up again philosophically the threads of dull
+routine. Jane Norman, gliding over this mysterious
+southern sea, a lone woman among strong and
+reckless men! Piracy! Pearls! Rugs and paintings
+worth a quarter of a million! Romance!</p>
+<p>Did she want it to last? Did she want romance
+all the rest of her days? What was this thing
+within her that was striving for expression? For
+what was she hunting? What worried her and
+put fear into her heart was the knowledge that
+she did not know what she wanted. From all
+directions came questions she could not answer.</p>
+<p>Was she in love? If so, where was the fire that
+should attend? Was it Denny&mdash;or yonder riddle?
+She felt contented with Denny, but Cunningham&#8217;s
+presence seemed to tear into unexplored corners
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span>
+of her heart and brain. If she were in love with
+Denny, why didn&#8217;t she thrill when he approached?
+There was only a sense of security, contentment.</p>
+<p>The idea of racing round the world romantically
+with Denny struck her as absurd. Equally contrary
+to reason was the picture of herself and
+Cunningham sitting before a wood fire. What
+was the matter with Jane Norman?</p>
+<p>There was one bar of light piercing the fog.
+She knew now why she had permitted Cleigh to
+abduct her. To bring about a reconciliation between
+father and son. And apparently there was
+as much chance as of east meeting west. She
+walked over to the rail and joined Cunningham.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You?&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The cabin was stuffy. I couldn&#8217;t sleep.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wonder.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;About what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If there isn&#8217;t a wild streak in you that corresponds
+with mine. You fall into the picture
+naturally&mdash;curious and unafraid.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why should I be afraid, and why shouldn&#8217;t
+I be curious?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The greatest honour a woman ever paid me.
+I mean that you shouldn&#8217;t be afraid of me when
+everything should warn you to give me plenty of
+sea room.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I know more about men than I do about
+women.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I know too much about both.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There have been other women&mdash;besides the one
+who laughed?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Perhaps I was cruel enough to make
+them pay for that.</p>
+<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto;  font-style:italic;'><tr><td>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>&#8220;&#8216;Funny an&#8217; yellow an&#8217; faithful&mdash;</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Doll in a teacup she were,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>An&#8217; I learned about women from &#8217;er!&#8217;</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I wonder what would have happened if it
+had been a woman like you instead of the one who
+laughed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shouldn&#8217;t have laughed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;This damned face of mine!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mustn&#8217;t say that! Why not try to make
+over your soul to match it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How is that done?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The irony was so gentle that she fell silent for a
+space.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you going to take Mr. Cleigh&#8217;s paintings
+when you leave us?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear young lady, all I have left to be
+proud of is my word. I give it to you that I am
+going after pearls. It may sound crazy, but I
+can&#8217;t help that. I am realizing a dream. I&#8217;m
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span>
+something of a fatalist&mdash;I&#8217;ve had to be. I&#8217;ve always
+reasoned that if I could make the dream
+come true&mdash;this dream of pearls&mdash;I&#8217;d have a
+chance to turn over a new leaf. I&#8217;ve had to commit
+acts at times that were against my nature,
+my instincts. I&#8217;ve had to be cruel and terrible,
+because men would not believe a pretty man could
+be a strong one. Do you understand? I have
+been forced to cruel deeds because men would not
+credit a man&#8217;s heart behind a woman&#8217;s face. I
+possess tremendous nervous energy. That&#8217;s the
+principal curse. I can&#8217;t sit still; I can&#8217;t remain
+long anywhere; I must go, go, go! Like the
+Wandering Jew, Ishmael.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know what Ishmael means?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. What?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;God heareth.&#8217; Have you ever asked Him
+for anything?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Why should I, since He gave me this
+withered leg? Please don&#8217;t preach to me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t, then. But I&#8217;m terribly sorry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course you are. But&mdash;don&#8217;t become too
+sorry. I might want to carry you off to my atoll.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you took me away with you by force, I&#8217;d
+hate you and you&#8217;d hate yourself. But you won&#8217;t
+do anything like that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What makes you believe so?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know why, but I do believe it.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;To be trusted by a woman, a good woman!
+I&#8217;ll tell that to the stars. Tell me about yourself&mdash;what
+you did and how you lived before you came
+this side.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was not a long story, and he nodded from
+time to time understandingly. Genteel poverty,
+a life of scrimp and pare&mdash;the cage. Romance&mdash;a
+flash of it&mdash;and she would return to the old life
+quite satisfied. Peace, a stormy interlude; then
+peace again indefinitely. It came to him that he
+wanted the respect of this young woman for always.
+But the malice that was ever bubbling up to his
+tongue and finding speech awoke.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Suppose I find my pearls&mdash;and then come back
+for you? Romance and adventure! These warm
+stars always above us at night; the brilliant days;
+the voyages from isle to isle; palms and gay
+parrakeets, cocoanuts and mangosteens&mdash;and let
+the world go hang!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She did not reply, but she moved a little away.
+He waited for a minute, then laughed softly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear young lady, this is the interlude
+you&#8217;ve always been longing for. Fate has popped
+you out of the normal for a few days, and presently
+she&#8217;ll pop you back into it. Some day you&#8217;ll
+marry and have children; you&#8217;ll sink into the rut of
+monotony again and not be conscious of it. On
+winter nights, before the fire, when the children
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span>
+have been put to bed, your man buried behind his
+evening paper, you will recall Slue-Foot and the
+interlude and be happy over it. You&#8217;ll hug and
+cuddle it to your heart secretly. A poignant craving
+in your life had been satisfied. Kidnapped by
+pirates, under Oriental stars! Fifteen men on a
+dead man&#8217;s chest&mdash;yo-ho, and a bottle of rum!
+A glorious adventure, with three meals the day
+and grand opera on the phonograph. Shades of
+Gilbert and Sullivan! And you will always be
+wondering whether the pirate made love to you
+in jest or in earnest&mdash;and he&#8217;ll always be wondering,
+too!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham turned away abruptly and clumped
+toward the bridge ladder, which he mounted.</p>
+<p>For some inexplicable reason her heart became
+filled with wild resentment against him. Mocking
+her, when she had only offered him kindness!
+She clung to the idea of mockery because it was the
+only tangible thing she could pluck from her confusion.
+Thus when she began the descent of the
+companionway and ran into Dennison coming up
+her mood was not receptive to reproaches.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where have you been?&#8221; he demanded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Watching the stars and the phosphorescence.
+I could not sleep.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Alone?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Mr. Cunningham was with me.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I warned you to keep away from that scoundrel!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How dare you use that tone to me? Have you
+any right to tell me what I shall and shall not do?&#8221;
+she stormed at him. &#8220;I&#8217;ve got to talk to someone.
+You go about in one perpetual gloom. I purpose
+to see and talk to Cunningham as often as I please.
+At least he amuses me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With this she rushed past him and on to her
+cabin, the door of which she closed with such
+emphasis that it was heard all over the yacht&mdash;so
+sharp was the report that both Cleigh and Dodge
+awoke and sat up, half convinced that they had
+heard a pistol shot!</p>
+<p>Jane sat down on her bed, still furious. After
+a while she was able to understand something of
+this fury. The world was upside down, wrong
+end to. Dennison, not Cunningham, should have
+acted the debonair, the nonchalant. Before this
+adventure began he had been witty, amusing,
+companionable; now he was as interesting as a
+bump on a log. At table he was only a poor
+counterfeit of his father, whose silence was maintained
+admirably, at all times impressively dignified.
+Whereas at each encounter Dennison played
+directly into Cunningham&#8217;s hands, and the latter
+was too much the banterer not to make the most
+of these episodes.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span></p>
+<p>What if he was worried? Hadn&#8217;t she more
+cause to worry than any one else? For all that,
+she did not purpose to hide behind the barricaded
+door of her cabin. If there was a tragedy in the
+offing it would not fall less heavily because one
+approached it with melancholy countenance.</p>
+<p>Heaven knew that she was no infant as regarded
+men! In the six years of hospital work
+she had come into contact with all sorts and
+conditions of men. Cunningham might be the
+greatest scoundrel unhung, but so far as she was
+concerned she need have no fear. This knowledge
+was instinctive.</p>
+<p>But when her cheek touched the pillow she began
+to cry softly. She was so terribly lonely!</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>The space through which Jane had passed
+held Dennison&#8217;s gaze for two or three minutes.
+Then he sat down on the companionway
+step, his arms across his knees and his forehead
+upon his arms. What to say? What to
+do? She expected him to be amusing!&mdash;when
+he knew that the calm on board was of the same
+deceptive quality as that of the sea&mdash;below, the
+terror!</p>
+<p>It did not matter that the crew was of high
+average. They would not be playing such a game
+unless they were a reckless lot. At any moment
+they might take it into their heads to swarm over
+Cunningham and obliterate him. Then what?
+If the episode of the morning had not convinced
+Jane, what would? The man Flint had dropped
+his mask; the others were content to wear theirs
+yet awhile. Torture for her sake, the fear of
+what might actually be in store for her, and she
+expected him to talk and act like a chap out of a
+novel!</p>
+<p>Ordinarily so full of common sense, what had
+happened to her that her vision should become so
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span>
+obscured as not to recognize the danger of the
+man? Had he been ugly, Jane would probably
+have ignored him. But that face of his, as handsome
+as a Greek god&#8217;s, and that tongue with its
+roots in oil! And there was his deformity&mdash;that
+had drawn her pity. Playing with her, and she
+deliberately walked into the trap because he was
+amusing! Why shouldn&#8217;t he be, knowing that he
+held their lives in the hollow of his hand? What
+imp of Satan wouldn&#8217;t have been amiable?</p>
+<p>Because the rogues did not run up the skull and
+crossbones; because they did not swagger up and
+down the deck, knives and pistols in their sashes,
+she couldn&#8217;t be made to believe them criminals!</p>
+<p>Amusing! She could not see that if he spoke
+roughly it was only an expression of the smothered
+pain of his mental crucifixion. He could not tell
+her he loved her for fear she might misinterpret
+her own sentiments. Besides, her present mood
+was not inductive to any declaration on his part;
+a confession might serve only to widen the breach.
+Who could say that it wasn&#8217;t Cunningham&#8217;s game
+to take Jane along with him in the end? There
+was nothing to prevent that. His father holding
+aloof, the loyal members of the crew in a most certain
+negligible minority, what was there to prevent
+Cunningham from carrying off Jane?</p>
+<p>Blood surged into Dennison&#8217;s throat; a murderous
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span>
+fury boiled up in him; but he remembered in
+time what these volcanic outbursts had cost him in
+the past. So he did not rush to the chart house.
+Cunningham would lash him with ridicule or be
+forced to shoot him. But his rage carried him as
+far as the wireless room. He could hear the smack
+of the spark, but that was all. He tried the door&mdash;locked.
+He tried the shutters&mdash;latched. Cunningham&#8217;s
+man was either calling or answering
+somebody. Ten minutes inside that room and
+there would be another tale to tell.</p>
+<p>In the end Dennison spent his fury by travelling
+round the deck until the sea and sky became like
+pearly smoke. Then he dropped into a chair and
+fell asleep.</p>
+<p>Cunningham had also watched through the
+night. The silent steersman heard him frequently
+rustling papers on the chart table or clumping
+to the bridge or lolling on the port sills&mdash;a restlessness
+that had about it something of the captive
+tiger.</p>
+<p>Retrospection&mdash;he could not break the crowding
+spell of it, twist mentally as he would; and the
+counter-thought was dimly suicidal. The sea
+there; a few strides would carry him to the end of
+the bridge, and then&mdash;oblivion. And the girl
+would not permit him to enact this thought. He
+laughed. God had mocked him at his birth, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span>
+the devil had played with him ever since. He had
+often faced death hotly and hopefully, but to consider
+suicide coldly!</p>
+<p>A woman who had crossed his path reluctantly,
+without will of her own; the sort he had always
+ignored because they had been born for the peace
+of chimney corners! She&mdash;the thought of her&mdash;could
+bring the past crowding upon him and
+create in his mind a suicidal bent!</p>
+<p>Pearls! A great distaste of life fell upon him;
+the adventure grew flat. The zest that had been
+his ten days gone, where was it?</p>
+<p>Imagination! He had been cursed with too
+much of it. In his youth he had skulked through
+alleys and back streets&mdash;the fear of laughter and
+ridicule dogging his mixed heels. Never before
+to have paused to philosophize over what had
+caused his wasted life! Too much imagination!
+Mental strabismus! He had let his over-sensitive
+imagination wreck and ruin him. A woman&#8217;s
+laughter had given him the viewpoint of a careless
+world; and he had fled, and he had gone on fleeing
+all these years from pillar to post. From a shadow!</p>
+<p>He was something of a monster. He saw now
+where the fault lay. He had never stayed long
+enough in any one place for people to get accustomed
+to him. His damnable imagination! And
+there was conceit of a sort. Probably nobody
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span>
+paid any attention to him after the initial shock
+and curiosity had died away. There was Scarron
+in his wheel chair&mdash;merry and cheerful and brave,
+jesting with misfortune; and men and women had
+loved him.</p>
+<p>A moral coward, and until this hour he had
+never sensed the truth! That was it! He had
+been a moral coward; he had tried to run away
+from fate; and here he was at last, in the blind
+alley the coward always found at the end of the
+run. He had never thought of anything but
+what he was&mdash;never of what he might have been.
+For having thrust him unfinished upon a thoughtless
+rather than a heartless world he had been
+trying to punish fate, and had punished only himself.
+A wastrel, a roisterer by night, a spendthrift,
+and a thief!</p>
+<p>What had she said?&mdash;reknead his soul so that
+it would fit his face? Too late!</p>
+<p>One staff to lean on, one only&mdash;he never broke
+his word. Why had he laid down for himself this
+law? What had inspired him to hold always to
+that? Was there a bit of gold somewhere in his
+grotesque make-up? A straw on the water, and
+he clutched it! Why? Cunningham laughed
+again, and the steersman turned his head slightly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Williams, do you believe in God?&#8221; asked
+Cunningham.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, sir, when I&#8217;m holding down the wheel&mdash;perhaps.
+The screw is always edging a ship off,
+and the lighter the ballast the wider the yaw. So
+you have to keep hitching her over a point to starboard.
+You trust to me to keep that point, and I
+trust to God that the north stays where it is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And yet legally you&#8217;re a pirate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, that? Well, a fellow ain&#8217;t much of a
+pirate that plays the game we play. And yet&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah! And yet?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, sir, some of the boys are getting restless.
+And I&#8217;ll be mighty glad when we raise that old
+Dutch bucket of yours. They ain&#8217;t bad, understand;
+just young and heady and wanting a little
+fun. They growl a lot because they can&#8217;t sleep
+on deck. They growl because there&#8217;s nothing
+to drink. Of course it might hurt Cleigh&#8217;s feelings,
+but I&#8217;d like to see all his grog go by the board.
+You see, sir, it ain&#8217;t as if we&#8217;d just dropped down
+from Shanghai. It&#8217;s been tarnation dull ever
+since we left San Francisco.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Once on the other boat, they can make a night
+of it if they want to. But I&#8217;ve given my word on
+the <i>Wanderer</i>.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And it&#8217;s final.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham returned to his chart. All these
+cogitations because a woman had entered his life
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span>
+uninvited! Ten days ago he had not been aware
+of her existence; and from now on she would be
+always recurring in his thoughts.</p>
+<p>She was not conscious of it, but she was as a
+wild thing that had been born in captivity, and
+she was tasting the freedom of space again without
+knowing what the matter was. But it is the law
+that all wild things born in captivity lose everything
+but the echo; a little freedom, a flash of
+what might have been, and they are ready to return
+to the cage. So it would be with her.</p>
+<p>Supposing&mdash;no, he would let her return to her
+cage. He wondered&mdash;had he made his word a
+law simply to meet and conquer a situation such
+as this? Or was his hesitance due to the fear of
+her hate? That would be immediate and unabating.
+She was not the sort that would bend&mdash;she
+would break. No, he wasn&#8217;t monster enough
+to play that sort of game. She should take back
+her little adventure to her cage, and in her old age
+it would become a pleasant souvenir.</p>
+<p>He rose and leaned on his arms against a port
+sill and stared at the stars until they began to fade,
+until the sea and the sky became like the pearls he
+would soon be seeking. A string of glass beads,
+bringing about all these events!</p>
+<p>At dawn he went down to the deck for a bit of
+exercise before he turned in. When he beheld
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span>
+Dennison sound asleep in the chair, his mouth
+slightly open, his bare feet standing out conspicuously
+on the foot rest, a bantering, mocking
+smile twisted the corners of Cunningham&#8217;s lips.
+Noiselessly he settled himself in the adjacent chair,
+and cynically hoping that Dennison would be
+first to wake he fell asleep.</p>
+<p>The <i>Wanderer&#8217;s</i> deck toilet was begun and consummated
+between six and six-thirty, except in
+rainy weather. Hose, mops, and holystone, until
+the teak looked as if it had just left the Rangoon
+sawmills; then the brass, every knob and piping,
+every latch and hinge and port loop. The care
+given the yacht since leaving the Yang-tse might
+be well called ingratiating. Never was a crew
+more eager to enact each duty to the utmost&mdash;with
+mighty good reason.</p>
+<p>But when they came upon Dennison and Cunningham,
+asleep side by side, they drew round the
+spot, dumfounded. But their befuddlement was
+only a tithe of that which struck Cleigh an hour
+later. It was his habit to take a short constitutional
+before breakfast; and when he beheld the
+two, asleep in adjoining chairs, the fact suggesting
+that they had come to some friendly understanding,
+he stopped in his tracks, as they say, never
+more astonished in all his days.</p>
+<p>For as long as five minutes he remained motionless,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span>
+the fine, rugged face of his son on one side
+and the amazing beauty of Cunningham&#8217;s on the
+other. But in the morning light, in repose,
+Cunningham&#8217;s face was tinged with age and sadness.
+There was, however, no grain of pity
+in Cleigh&#8217;s heart. Cunningham had made his
+bed of horsehair; let him twist and writhe upon
+it.</p>
+<p>But the two of them together, sleeping as peacefully
+as babes! Dennison had one arm flung behind
+his head. It gave Cleigh a shock, for he
+recognized the posture. As a lad Dennison had
+slept that way. Cunningham&#8217;s withered leg was
+folded under his sound one.</p>
+<p>What had happened? Cleigh shook his head;
+he could not make it out. Moreover, he could
+not wake either and demand the solution to the
+puzzle. He could not put his hand on his son&#8217;s
+shoulder, and he would not put it on Cunningham&#8217;s.
+Pride on one side and distaste on the
+other. But the two of them together!</p>
+<p>He got round the impasse by kicking out the
+foot rest of the third chair. Immediately Cunningham
+opened his eyes. First he turned to see
+if Dennison was still in his chair. Finding this to
+be the case, he grinned amiably at the father.
+Exactly the situation he would have prayed for
+had he believed in the efficacy of prayer.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Surprises you, eh? Looks as if he had signed
+on with the Great Adventure Company.&#8221;</p>
+<p>His voice woke Dennison, who blinked in the
+sunshine for a moment, then looked about. He
+comprehended at once.</p>
+<p>With easy dignity he swung his bare feet to the
+deck and made for the companion; never a second
+glance at either his father or Cunningham.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Chip of the old block!&#8221; observed Cunningham.
+&#8220;You two! On my word, I never saw two bigger
+fools in all my time! What&#8217;s it about? What
+the devil did he do&mdash;murder someone, rob the
+office safe, or marry Tottie Lightfoot? And Lord,
+how you both love me! And how much more
+you&#8217;ll love me when I become the dear departed!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh, understanding that the situation was a
+creation of pure malice on Cunningham&#8217;s part&mdash;Cleigh
+wheeled and resumed his tramp round the
+deck.</p>
+<p>Cunningham plowed his fingers through his
+hair, gripped and pulled it in a kind of ecstasy.
+Cleigh&#8217;s phiz. The memory of it would keep him
+in good humour all day. After all, there was a lot
+of good sport in the world. The days were all
+right. It was only in the quiet vigils of the night
+that the uninvited thought intruded. On board
+the old Dutch tramp he would sleep o&#8217;nights, and
+the past would present only a dull edge.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span></p>
+<p>If the atoll had cocoanut palms, hang it, he
+would build a shack and make it his winter home!
+<i>Dolce far niente!</i> Maybe he might take up the
+brush again and do a little amateur painting.
+Yes, in the daytime the old top wasn&#8217;t so bad.
+He hoped he would have no more nonsense from
+Flint. A surly beggar, but a necessary pawn in
+the game.</p>
+<p>Pearls! Some to sell and some to play with.
+Lovely, tenderly beautiful pearls&mdash;a rope of them
+round Jane Norman&#8217;s throat. He slid off the
+chair. As a fool, he hung in the same gallery as
+the Cleighs.</p>
+<p>Cleigh ate his breakfast alone. Upon inquiry
+he learned that Jane was indisposed and that
+Dennison had gone into the pantry and picked up
+his breakfast there. Cleigh found the day unspeakably
+dull. He read, played the phonograph,
+and tried all the solitaires he knew; but a hundred
+times he sensed the want of the pleasant voice of
+the girl in his ears.</p>
+<p>What would she be demanding of him as a
+reparation? He was always sifting this query
+about, now on this side, now on that, without getting
+anywhere. Not money. What then?</p>
+<p>That night both Jane and Dennison came in to
+dinner. Cleigh saw instantly that something was
+amiss. The boy&#8217;s face was gloomy and his lips
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span>
+locked, and the girl&#8217;s mouth was set and cheerless.
+Cleigh was fired by curiosity to ascertain the
+trouble, but here again was an impasse.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry I spoke so roughly last night,&#8221; said
+Dennison, unexpectedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I am sorry that I answered you so sharply.
+But all this worry and fuss over me is getting on
+my nerves. You&#8217;ve written down Cunningham as
+a despicable rogue, when he is only an interesting
+one. If only you would give banter for banter, you
+might take some of the wind out of his sails. But
+instead you go about as if the next hour was to be
+our last!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who knows?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There you go! In a minute we&#8217;ll be digging up
+the hatchet again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But she softened the reproach by smiling. At
+this moment Cunningham came in briskly and
+cheerfully. He sat down, threw the napkin across
+his knees, and sent an ingratiating smile round the
+table.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cleigh&#8221;&mdash;he was always talking to Cleigh, and
+apparently not minding in the least that he was
+totally ignored&mdash;&#8220;Cleigh, they are doing a good
+job in the Santa Maria delle Grazie, so I am told.
+Milan, of course. They are restoring Da Vinci&#8217;s
+Cenacolo. What called it to mind is the fact that
+this is also the last supper. To-morrow at this
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span>
+hour you will be in possession and I&#8217;ll be off for my
+pearls.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The recipients of this remarkable news appeared
+petrified for a space. Cunningham enjoyed the
+astonishment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sounds almost too good to be true, doesn&#8217;t it?
+Still, it&#8217;s a fact.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s tiptop news, Cunningham,&#8221; said Dennison.
+&#8220;I hope when you go down the ladder you
+break your infernal neck. But the luck is on your
+side.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let us hope that it stays there,&#8221; replied Cunningham,
+unruffled. He turned to Cleigh again:
+&#8220;I say, we&#8217;ve always been bewailing that job of
+Da Vinci&#8217;s. But the old boy was a seer. He
+knew that some day there would be American
+millionaires and that I&#8217;d become a force in art.
+So he put his subject on a plaster wall so I couldn&#8217;t
+lug it off. A canvas the same size, I don&#8217;t say;
+but the side of a church!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A ship is going to pick you up to-morrow?&#8221;
+asked Jane.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. The crew of the <i>Wanderer</i> goes to the
+<i>Haarlem</i> and the <i>Haarlem</i> crew transships to the
+<i>Wanderer</i>. You see, Cleigh, I&#8217;m one of those
+efficiency sharks. In this game I have left nothing
+to chance. Nothing except an act of God&mdash;as
+they say on the back of your steamer ticket&mdash;can
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span>
+derange my plans. Not the least bit of inconvenience
+to you beyond going out of your
+course for a few days. The new crew was signed
+on in Singapore&mdash;able seamen wanting to return to
+the States. Hired them in your name. Clever
+idea of me, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very,&#8221; said Cleigh, speaking directly to
+Cunningham for the first time since the act of
+piracy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And this will give you enough coal to turn and
+make Manila, where you can rob the bunkers of
+one of your freighters. Now, then, early last
+winter in New York a company was formed, the
+most original company in all this rocky old world&mdash;the
+Great Adventure Company, of which I am
+president and general adviser. Pearls! Each
+member of the crew is a shareholder, undersigned
+at fifteen hundred shares, par value one dollar.
+These shares are redeemable October first in New
+York City if the company fails, or are convertible
+into pearls of equal value if we succeed. No
+widows and orphans need apply. Fair enough.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fair enough, indeed,&#8221; admitted Cleigh.</p>
+<p>Dennison stared at his father. He did not
+quite understand this willingness to hold converse
+with the rogue after all this rigorously maintained
+silence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course the Great Adventure Company had
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span>
+to be financed,&#8221; went on Cunningham with a
+deprecating gesture.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Naturally,&#8221; assented Cleigh. &#8220;And that, I
+suppose, will be my job?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indirectly. You see, Eisenfeldt told me he
+had a client ready to pay eighty thousand for the
+rug, and that put the whole idea into my noodle.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah! Well, you will find the crates and frames
+and casings in the forward hold,&#8221; said Cleigh in a
+tone which conveyed nothing of his thoughts.
+&#8220;It would be a pity to spoil the rug and the oils
+for the want of a little careful packing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham rose and bowed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cleigh, you are a thoroughbred!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh shook his head.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll have your hide, Cunningham, if it takes all
+I have and all I am!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Cunningham sat down. &#8220;The spirit
+is willing, Cleigh, but the flesh is weak.
+You&#8217;ll never get my hide. How will
+you go about it? Stop a moment and mull it over.
+How are you going to prove that I&#8217;ve borrowed
+the rug and the paintings? These are your
+choicest possessions. You have many at home
+worth more, but these things you love. Out of
+spite, will you inform the British, the French, the
+Italian governments that you had these objects
+and that I relieved you of them? In that event
+you&#8217;ll have my hide, but you&#8217;ll never set eyes upon
+the oils again except upon their lawful walls&mdash;the
+rug, never! On the other hand, there is every
+chance in the world of my returning them to
+you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your word?&#8221; interrupted Jane, ironically.</p>
+<p>So Cleigh was right? A quarter of a million in
+art treasures!</p>
+<p>&#8220;My word! I never before realized,&#8221; continued
+Cunningham, &#8220;what a fine thing it is to possess
+something to stand on firmly&mdash;a moral plank.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison&#8217;s laughter was sardonic.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Moral plank is good,&#8221; was his comment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Norman,&#8221; said Cunningham, maliciously,
+&#8220;I slept beside the captain this morning, and he
+snores outrageously.&#8221; The rogue tilted his chin
+and the opal fire leaped into his eyes. &#8220;Do you
+want me to tell you all about the Great Adventure
+Company, or do you want me to shut up and
+merely proceed with the company&#8217;s business without
+further ado? Why the devil should I care
+what you think of me? Still, I do care. I want
+you to get my point of view&mdash;a rollicking adventure,
+in which nobody loses anything and I have
+a great desire fulfilled. Hang it, it&#8217;s a colossal
+joke, and in the end the laugh will be on nobody!
+Even Eisenfeldt will laugh,&#8221; he added, enigmatically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you intend to take the oils and the rug
+and later return them?&#8221; demanded Jane.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Absolutely! That&#8217;s the whole story. Only
+Cleigh here will not believe it until the rug and
+oils are dumped on the door-step of his New York
+home. I needed money. Nobody would offer to
+finance a chart with a red cross on it. So I had to
+work it out in my own fashion. The moment
+Eisenfeldt sees these oils and the rug he becomes
+my financier, but he&#8217;ll never put his claw on them
+except for one thing&mdash;that act of God they mention
+on the back of your ticket. Some raider may
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span>
+have poked into this lagoon of mine. In that case
+Eisenfeldt wins.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh smiled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A pretty case, Cunningham, but it won&#8217;t hold
+water. It is inevitable that Eisenfeldt gets the
+rug and the paintings, and you are made comfortable
+for the rest of your days. A shabby business,
+and you shall rue it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My word?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe in it any longer,&#8221; returned
+Cleigh.</p>
+<p>Cunningham appealed to Jane.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Give me the whole story, then I&#8217;ll tell you
+what I believe,&#8221; she said. &#8220;You may be telling
+the truth.&#8221;</p>
+<p>What a queer idea&mdash;wanting his word believed!
+Why should it matter to him whether they believed
+in the honour of his word or not, when he
+held the whip hand and could act as he pleased?
+The poor thing! And as that phrase was uttered
+in thought, the glamour of him was dissipated;
+she saw Cunningham as he was, a poor benighted
+thing, half boy, half demon, a thing desperately
+running away from his hurt and lashing out at
+friends and enemies alike on the way.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell your story&mdash;all of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham began:</p>
+<p>&#8220;About a year ago the best friend I had&mdash;perhaps
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span>
+the only friend I had&mdash;died. He left me his
+chart and papers. The atoll is known, but uncharted,
+because it is far outside the routes. I
+have no actual proofs that there will be shell in
+the lagoon; I have only my friend&#8217;s word&mdash;the
+word of a man as honest as sunshine. Where this
+shell lies there is never any law. Some pearl
+thiever may have fallen upon the shell since my
+friend discovered it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In that case,&#8221; said Cleigh, &#8220;I lose?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Frankly, yes! All financial ventures are attended
+by certain risks.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Money? Why didn&#8217;t you come to me for
+that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What! To you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham&#8217;s astonishment was perfect.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. There was a time when I would have
+staked a good deal on your word.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham rested his elbows on the table and
+clutched his hair&mdash;a despairing gesture.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No use! I can&#8217;t get it to you! I can&#8217;t make
+you people understand! It isn&#8217;t the pearls, it&#8217;s
+the game; it&#8217;s all the things that go toward the
+pearls. I want to put over a game no man ever
+played before.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jane began to find herself again drawn toward
+him, but no longer with the feeling of unsettled
+mystery. She knew now why he drew her. He
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span>
+was the male of the species to which she belonged&mdash;the
+out-trailer, the hater of humdrum, of
+dull orbits and of routine. The thrilling years he
+had spent&mdash;business! This was the adventure of
+which he had always dreamed, and since it would
+never arrive as a sequence, he had proceeded to
+dramatize it! He was Tom Sawyer grown up;
+and for a raft on the Mississippi substitute a seagoing
+yacht. There was then in this matter-of-fact
+world such a man, and he sat across the table
+from her!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Supposing I had come to you and you had advanced
+the money?&#8221; said Cunningham, earnestly.
+&#8220;All cut and dried, not a thrill, not a laugh, nothing
+but the pearls! I have never had a boyhood
+dream realized but, hang it, I&#8217;m going to realize
+this one!&#8221; He struck the table violently. &#8220;Set
+the British after me, and you&#8217;ll never see this stuff
+again. You&#8217;ll learn whether my word is worth
+anything or not. Lay off for eight months, and if
+your treasures are not yours again within that
+time you won&#8217;t have to chase me. I&#8217;ll come to
+you and have the tooth pulled without gas.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison&#8217;s eyes softened a little. Neither had
+he realized any of his boyhood dreams. For all
+that, the fellow was as mad as a hatter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course I&#8217;m a colossal ass, and half the fun
+is knowing that I am.&#8221; The banter returned to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span>
+Cunningham&#8217;s tongue. &#8220;But this thing will go
+through&mdash;I feel it. I will have had my fun, and
+you will have loaned your treasures to me for
+eight months, and Eisenfeldt will have his principal
+back without interest. The treasures go
+directly to a bank vault. There will be two receipts,
+one dated September&mdash;mine; and one dated
+November&mdash;Eisenfeldt&#8217;s. I hate Eisenfeldt. He&#8217;s
+tricky; his word isn&#8217;t worth a puff of smoke; he&#8217;s
+ready at all times to play both ends from the
+middle. I want to pay him out for crossing my
+path in several affairs. He&#8217;s betting that I will
+find no pearls. So to-morrow I will exhibit the
+rug and the Da Vinci to convince him, and he will
+advance the cash. Can&#8217;t you see the sport of it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That would make very good reading,&#8221; said
+Cleigh, scraping the shell of his avocado pear.
+&#8220;I can get you on piracy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Prove it! You can say I stole the yacht, but
+you can&#8217;t prove it. The crew is yours; you hired
+it. The yacht returns to you to-morrow without
+a scratch on her paint. And the new crew will
+know absolutely nothing, being as innocent as
+newborn babes. Cleigh, you&#8217;re no fool. What
+earthly chance have you got? You love that rug.
+You&#8217;re not going to risk losing it positively, merely
+to satisfy a thirst for vengeance. You&#8217;re human.
+You&#8217;ll rave and storm about for a few days, then
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span>
+you&#8217;ll accept the game as it lies. Think of all the
+excitement you&#8217;ll have when a telegram arrives
+or the phone rings! I told you it was a whale of a
+joke; and in late October you&#8217;ll chuckle. I know
+you, Cleigh. Down under all that tungsten there
+is the place of laughter. It will be better to laugh
+by yourself than to have the world laugh at you.
+Hoist by his own petard! There isn&#8217;t a newspaper
+syndicate on earth that wouldn&#8217;t give me a
+fortune for just the yarn. Now, I don&#8217;t want the
+world to laugh at you, Cleigh.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Considerate of you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because I know what that sort of laughter is.
+Could you pick up the old life, the clubs? Could
+a strong man like you exist in an atmosphere of
+suppressed chuckles? Mull it over. If these
+treasures were honourably yours I&#8217;d never have
+thought of touching them. But you haven&#8217;t any
+more right to them than I have, or Eisenfeldt.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison leaned back in his chair. He began
+to laugh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cunningham, my apologies,&#8221; he said. &#8220;I
+thought you were a scoundrel, and you are only a
+fool&mdash;the same brand as I! I&#8217;ve been aching to
+wring your neck, but that would have been a pity.
+For eight months life will be full of interest for
+me&mdash;like waiting for the end of a story in the
+magazines.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;But there is one thing missing out of the tale,&#8221;
+Jane interposed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And what is that?&#8221; asked Cunningham.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Those beads.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, those beads! They belonged to an empress
+of France, and the French Government is
+offering sixty thousand for their return. Napoleonic.
+And now will you answer a question of
+mine? Where have you hidden them?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jane did not answer, but rose and left the dining
+salon. Silence fell upon the men until she returned.
+In her hand she held Ling Foo&#8217;s brass
+hand warmer. She set it on the table and pried
+back the jigsawed lid. From the heap of punk and
+charcoal ashes she rescued the beads and laid them
+on the cloth.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very clever. They are yours,&#8221; said Cunningham.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mine?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not? Findings is keepings. They are
+as much yours as mine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jane pushed the string toward Cleigh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For me?&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;for nothing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There is sixty thousand dollars in gold in my
+safe. When we land in San Francisco I will turn
+over the money to you. You have every right in
+the world to it.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span></p>
+<p>Cleigh blew the ash from the glass beads and
+circled them in his palm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I repeat,&#8221; she said, &#8220;they are yours.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham stood up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what&#8217;s it to be?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have decided to reserve my decision,&#8221;
+answered Cleigh, dryly. &#8220;To hang you &#8217;twixt
+wind and water will add to the thrill, for evidently
+that&#8217;s what you&#8217;re after.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If it&#8217;s on your own you&#8217;ll only be wasting coal.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh toyed with the beads.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The <i>Haarlem</i>. Maybe I can save you a lot
+of trouble,&#8221; said Cunningham. &#8220;The name is
+only on her freeboard and stern, not on her
+master&#8217;s ticket. The moment we are hull down
+the old name goes back.&#8221; Cunningham turned to
+Jane. &#8220;Do you believe I&#8217;ve put my cards on the
+table?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And that if I humanly can I&#8217;ll keep my word?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s worth many pearls of price!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Supposing,&#8221; said Cleigh, trickling the beads
+from palm to palm&mdash;&#8220;supposing I offered you the
+equivalent in cash?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Eisenfeldt has my word.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You refuse?&#8221; Plainly Cleigh was jarred out of
+his calm. &#8220;You refuse?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve already explained,&#8221; said Cunningham,
+wearily. &#8220;I&#8217;ve told you that I like sharp knives
+to play with. If you handle them carelessly
+you&#8217;re cut. How about you?&#8221; Cunningham
+addressed the question to Dennison.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m neutral and interested. I&#8217;ve always
+had a sneaking admiration for a tomfool. They
+were Shakespeare&#8217;s best characters. Consider me
+neutral.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh rose abruptly and stalked from the salon.</p>
+<p>Cunningham lurched and twisted to the forward
+passage and disappeared.</p>
+<p>When next Jane saw him in the light he was
+bloody and terrible.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Jane and Dennison were alone. &#8220;I wonder,&#8221;
+he said, &#8220;are we two awake, or are we having
+the same nightmare?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The way he hugs his word! Imagine a man
+stepping boldly and mockingly outside the pale,
+and carrying along his word unsullied with him!
+He&#8217;s mad, Denny, absolutely mad! The poor
+thing!&#8221;</p>
+<p>That phrase seemed to liberate something in his
+mind. The brooding oppression lifted its siege.
+His heart was no longer a torture chamber.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ought to be his partner, Jane. I&#8217;m as big a
+fool as he is. Who but a fool would plan and
+execute a game such as this? But he&#8217;s sound on
+one point. It&#8217;s a colossal joke.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But your father?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cunningham will have to dig a pretty deep
+hole somewhere if he expects to hide successfully.
+It&#8217;s a hundred-to-one shot that father will never
+see his rug again. He probably realizes that, and
+he will be relentless. He&#8217;ll coal at Manila and
+turn back. He&#8217;ll double or triple the new crew&#8217;s
+wages. Money will mean nothing if he starts after
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span>
+Cunningham. Of course I&#8217;ll be out of the picture
+at Manila.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know why your father kidnaped me so
+easily? I thought maybe I could find a chink in
+his armour and bring you two together.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you&#8217;ve found the job hopeless!&#8221; Dennison
+shrugged.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Won&#8217;t you tell me what the cause was?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ask him. He&#8217;ll tell it better than I can. So
+you hid the beads in that hand-warmer! Not half
+bad. But why don&#8217;t you take the sixty thousand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve an old-fashioned conscience.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t mean Father&#8217;s gold, but the French
+Government&#8217;s. Comfort as long as you lived.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I could not touch even that money. The
+beads were stolen.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lord, Lord! Then there are three of us&mdash;Cunningham,
+myself, and you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you calling me a tomfool?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not exactly. What&#8217;s the feminine?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She laughed and rose.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are almost human to-night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where are you going?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to have a little talk with your
+father.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good luck. I&#8217;m going to have a fresh pot of
+coffee. I shall want to keep awake to-night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, just an idea. You&#8217;d better turn in when
+the interview is over. Good luck.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jane stood framed in the doorway for a moment.
+Under the reading lamp in the main salon she saw
+Cleigh. He was running the beads from hand to
+hand and staring into space. Behind her she
+heard Dennison&#8217;s spoon clatter in the cup as he
+stirred the coffee.</p>
+<p>Wild horses! She felt as though she were being
+pulled two ways by wild horses! For she was
+about to demand of Anthony Cleigh the promised
+reparation. And which of two things should she
+demand? All this time, since Cleigh had uttered
+the promise, she had had but one thought&mdash;to
+bring father and son together, to do away with
+this foolish estrangement. For there did not
+seem to be on earth any crime that merited such
+a condition. If he humanly could&mdash;he had modified
+the promise with that. What was more human
+than to forgive&mdash;a father to forgive a son?</p>
+<p>And now Cunningham had to wedge in compellingly!
+She could hesitate between Denny and
+Cunningham! The rank disloyalty of it shocked
+her. To give Cunningham his eight months!
+Pity, urgent pity for the broken body and tortured
+soul of the man&mdash;mothering pity! Denny was
+whole and sound, mentally and physically; he
+would never know any real mental torture, anything
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span>
+that compared with Cunningham&#8217;s, which
+was enduring, now waxing, now waning, but
+always sensible. To secure for him his eight
+months, without let or hindrance from the full
+enmity of Cleigh; to give him his boyhood dream,
+whether he found his pearls or not. Her throat
+became stuffed with the presage of tears. The
+poor thing!</p>
+<p>But Denny, parting from his father at Manila,
+the cleavage wider than ever, beyond hope! Oh,
+she could not tolerate the thought of that! These
+two, so full of strong and bitter pride&mdash;they
+would never meet again if they separated now.
+Perhaps fate had assigned the rôle of peacemaker
+to her, and she had this weapon in her hand to enforce
+it or bring it about&mdash;the father&#8217;s solemn
+promise to grant whatever she might ask. And
+she could dodder between Denny and Cunningham!</p>
+<p>To demand both conditions would probably
+appeal to Cleigh as not humanly possible. One
+or the other, but not the two together.</p>
+<p>An interval of several minutes of which she had
+no clear recollection, and then she was conscious
+that she was reclining in her chair on deck, staring
+at the stars which appeared jerkily and queerly
+shaped&mdash;through tears. She hadn&#8217;t had the
+courage to make a decision. As if it became
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span>
+any easier to solve by putting it over until to-morrow!</p>
+<p>Chance&mdash;the Blind Madonna of the Pagan&mdash;was
+preparing to solve the riddle for her&mdash;with a
+thunderbolt!</p>
+<p>The mental struggle had exhausted Jane somewhat,
+and she fell into a doze. When she woke
+she was startled to see by her wrist watch that it
+was after eleven. The yacht was plowing along
+through the velvet blackness of the night. The
+inclination to sleep gone, Jane decided to walk the
+deck until she was as bodily tired as she was
+mentally. All the hidden terror was gone. To-morrow
+these absurd pirates would be on their
+way.</p>
+<p>Study the situation as she might, she could discover
+no flaw in this whimsical madman&#8217;s plans.
+He held the crew in his palm, even as he held
+Cleigh&mdash;by covetousness. Cleigh would never
+dare send the British after Cunningham; and the
+crew would obey him to the letter because that
+meant safety and recompense. The Great Adventure
+Company! Only by an act of God!
+And what could possibly happen between now
+and the arrival of the <i>Haarlem</i>?</p>
+<p>Cleigh had evidently turned in, for through the
+transoms she saw that the salon lights were out.
+She circled the deck house six times, then went up
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span>
+to the bow and stared down the cutwater at the
+phosphorescence. Blue fire! The eternal marvel
+of the sea!</p>
+<p>A hand fell upon her shoulder. She thought it
+would be Denny&#8217;s. It was Flint&#8217;s!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Be a good sport, an&#8217; give us a kiss!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She drew back, but he caught her arm. His
+breath was foul with tobacco and whisky.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, I&#8217;ll take it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>With her free hand she struck him in the face.
+It was a sound blow, for Jane was no weakling.
+That should have warned Flint that a struggle
+would not be worth while. But where&#8217;s the
+drunken man with caution? The blow stung
+Flint equally in flesh and spirit. He would kiss
+this woman if it was the last thing he ever did!</p>
+<p>Jane fought him savagely, never thinking to call
+to the bridge. Twice she escaped, but each time
+the fool managed to grasp either her waist or her
+skirt. Then out of nowhere came the voice of
+Cunningham:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Flint!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dishevelled and breathless, Jane found herself
+free. She stumbled to the rail and rested there for
+a moment. Dimly she could see the two men enacting
+a weird shadow dance. Then it came to
+her that Cunningham would not be strong enough
+to vanquish Flint, so she ran aft to rouse Denny.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span></p>
+<p>As she went down the companionway, her knees
+threatening to give way, she heard voices, blows,
+crashings against the partitions. Instinct told her
+to seek her cabin and barricade the door; curiosity
+drove her through the two darkened salons to the
+forward passage. Only a single lamp was on, but
+that was enough. Anthony Cleigh&#8217;s iron-gray head
+towering above a whirlwind of fists and forearms!</p>
+<p>What had happened? This couldn&#8217;t be real!
+She was still in her chair on deck, and what she saw
+was nightmare! Out of the calm, all in a moment,
+this! Where was Denny, if this picture wasn&#8217;t
+nightmare? Cunningham above, struggling with
+the whisky-maddened Flint&mdash;Cleigh fighting in
+the passage! Dear God, what had happened?</p>
+<p>Where was Denny? The question let loose in
+her heart and mind all that was emotional, at the
+same time enchaining her to the spot where she
+stood. Denny! Why, she loved Denny! And
+she had not known it consciously until this moment.
+Because some presciential instinct warned
+her that Denny was either dead or badly hurt!</p>
+<p>The narrowness of the passage gave Cleigh one
+advantage&mdash;none of the men could get behind
+him. Sometimes he surged forward a little,
+sometimes he stepped back, but never back of the
+line he had set for himself. By and by Jane forced
+her gaze to the deck to see what it was that held
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span>
+him like a rock. What she saw was only the actual
+of what she had already envisaged&mdash;Denny, either
+dead or badly hurt!</p>
+<p>What had happened was this: Six of the crew,
+those spirits who had succumbed to the secret
+domination of the man Flint&mdash;the drinkers&mdash;had
+decided to celebrate the last night on the <i>Wanderer</i>.
+Their argument was that old man Cleigh wouldn&#8217;t
+miss a few bottles, and that it would be a long
+time between drinks when they returned to the
+States; and never might they again have so easy
+a chance to taste the juice of the champagne grape.
+Where was the harm? Hadn&#8217;t they behaved like
+little Fauntleroys for weeks? They did not want
+any trouble&mdash;just half a dozen bottles, and back
+to the forepeak to empty them. That wouldn&#8217;t
+kill the old man. They wouldn&#8217;t even have to
+force the door of the dry-stores; they had already
+learned that they could tickle the lock out of commission
+by the use of a bent wire. Young, restless,
+and mischievous&mdash;none of them bad. A bit of
+laughter and a few bars of song&mdash;that was all they
+wanted. No doubt the affair would have blown
+itself out harmlessly but for the fact that Chance
+had other ideas. She has a way with her, this
+Pagan Madonna, of taking off the cheerful motley
+of a jest and substituting the Phrygian cap of
+terror, subitaneously.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span></p>
+<p>Dennison had lain down on the lounge in the
+main salon. Restless, unhappy, bitter toward his
+father, he had lain there counting the throbs of the
+engine to that point where they mysteriously cease
+to register and one has to wait a minute or two to
+pick up the throb again.</p>
+<p>For years he had lived more or less in the open,
+which attunes the human ear to sounds that
+generally pass unnoticed. All at once he was sure
+that he had heard the tinkle of glass, but he
+waited. The tinkle was repeated. Instinct led
+him at once to the forward passage, and one
+glance down this was sufficient. From the thought
+of a drunken orgy&mdash;the thing he had been fearing
+since the beginning of this mad voyage&mdash;his
+thought leaped to Jane. Thus his subsequent
+acts were indirectly in her defense.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What the devil are you up to there?&#8221; he
+called.</p>
+<p>The unexpectedness of the challenge disconcerted
+the men. They had enough loot. A quick
+retreat, and Dennison would have had nothing
+to do but close the dry-stores door. But middle
+twenties are belligerent rather than discreet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What you got to say about it?&#8221; jeered one of
+the men, shifting his brace of bottles to the arms
+of another and squaring off.</p>
+<p>Dennison rushed them, and the mêlée began.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span>
+It was a strenuous affair while it lasted. When a
+strong man is full of anger and bitter disappointment,
+when six young fellows are bored to distraction,
+nothing is quite so satisfying as an exchange
+of fisticuffs. Dennison had the advantage
+of being able to hit right and left, at random,
+while his opponents were not always sure that a
+blow landed where it was directed.</p>
+<p>Naturally the racket drew Cleigh to the scene,
+and he arrived in time to see a champagne bottle
+descend upon the head of his son. Dennison went
+down.</p>
+<p>Cleigh, boiling with impotent fury, had gone to
+bed, not to sleep but to plan; some way round the
+rogue, to trip him and regain the treasures that
+meant so much to him. Like father, like son.
+When he saw what was going on in the passage he
+saw also that here was something that linked up
+with his mood. Of course it was to defend the
+son; but without the bitter rage and the need of
+physical expression he would have gone for the
+hidden revolver and settled the affair with that.
+Instead he flew at the men with the savageness of
+a gray wolf. He was a tower of a man, for all his
+sixty years; and he had mauled three of the crew
+severely before Cunningham arrived.</p>
+<p>Why had the mutinous six offered battle? Why
+hadn&#8217;t they retreated with good sense at the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span>
+start? Originally all they had wanted was the
+wine. Why stop to fight when the wine was
+theirs? In the morning none of them could answer
+these questions. Was there ever a rough-and-tumble
+that anybody could explain lucidly the
+morning after? Perhaps it was the false pride of
+youth; the bitter distaste at the thought of six
+turning tail for one.</p>
+<p>Cunningham fired a shot at the ceiling, and a
+dozen of the crew came piling in from the forward
+end of the passage. The fighting stopped magically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You fools!&#8221; cried Cunningham in a high,
+cracked voice. &#8220;To put our heads into hemp at
+the last moment. If anything happens to young
+Cleigh, back to Manila you go with the yacht!
+Clear out! At the last moment!&#8221; It was like a
+sob.</p>
+<p>Jane, still entranced, saw Cleigh stoop and put
+his arms under the body of his son, heave, and
+stand up under the dead weight. He staggered
+past her toward the main salon. She heard him
+mutter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;God help me if I&#8217;m too late&mdash;if I&#8217;ve waited
+too long! Denny?&#8221;</p>
+<p>That galvanized her into action, and she flew
+to the light buttons, flooding both the dining and
+the main salons. She helped Cleigh to place
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span>
+Dennison on the lounge. After that it was her
+affair. Dennison was alive, but how much alive
+could be told only by the hours. She bathed and
+bandaged his head. Beyond that she could do
+nothing but watch and wait.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t mind&mdash;a little of that&mdash;water,&#8221;
+said Cunningham, weakly.</p>
+<p>Cleigh, with menacing fists, wheeled upon him;
+but he did not strike the man who was basically
+the cause of Denny&#8217;s injuries. At the same time
+Jane, looking up across Dennison&#8217;s body, uttered a
+gasp of horror. The entire left side of Cunningham
+was drenched in blood, and the arm dangled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Flint had a knife&mdash;and&mdash;was quite handy with
+it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For me!&#8221; she cried. &#8220;For defending me!
+Mr. Cleigh, Flint caught me on deck&mdash;and Mr.
+Cunningham&mdash;oh, this is horrible!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You were right, Cleigh. The best-laid plans of
+mice and men! What an ass I am! I honestly
+thought I could play a game like this without
+hurt to anybody. It was to be a whale of a joke.
+Flint&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham reached blindly for the nearest
+chair and collapsed in it.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>An hour later. The four of them were still
+in the main salon. Jane sat at the head of the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span>
+lounge, and from time to time she took Dennison&#8217;s
+pulse and temperature. She had finally deduced
+that there had been no serious concussion. Cleigh
+sat at the foot of the lounge, his head on his hands.
+Cunningham occupied the chair into which he had
+collapsed. Three ugly flesh wounds, but nothing
+a little time would not heal. True, he had had a
+narrow squeak. He sat with his eyes closed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221; asked Jane suddenly, breaking the
+silence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221; said Cleigh, looking up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why these seven years&mdash;if you cared? I heard
+you say something about being too late. Why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m a queer old fool. An idea, when it enters
+my head, sticks. I can&#8217;t shift my plans easily; I
+have to go through. What you have witnessed
+these several days gives you the impression that I
+have no heart. That isn&#8217;t true. But we Cleighs
+are pigheaded. Until he was sent to Russia he
+was never from under the shadow of my hand.
+My agents kept me informed of all his moves,
+his adventures. The mistake was originally mine.
+I put him in charge of an old scholar who taught
+him art, music, languages, but little or nothing
+about human beings. I gave him a liberal allowance;
+but he was a queer lad, and Broadway never
+heard of him. Now I hold that youth must
+have its fling in some manner or other; after
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span>
+thirty there is no cure for folly. So when he ran
+away I let him go; but he never got so far away
+that I did not know what he was doing. I liked
+the way he rejected the cash I gave him; the way
+he scorned to trade upon the name. He went
+clean. Why? I don&#8217;t know. Oh, yes, he got hilariously
+drunk once in a while, but he had his
+fling in clean places. I had agents watching him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why did he run away?&#8221; asked Jane.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No man can tell another man; a man has to
+find it out for himself&mdash;the difference between a
+good woman and a bad one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I play that statement to win,&#8221; interposed
+Cunningham without opening his eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There was a woman?&#8221; said Jane.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A bad one. Pretty and clever as sin. My
+fault. I should have sent him to college where
+he&#8217;d have got at least a glimmer of life. But I
+kept him under the tutor until the thing happened.
+He thought he was in love, when it was only his
+first woman. She wanted his money&mdash;or, more
+properly speaking, mine. I had her investigated
+and found that she was bad all through. When
+I told him boldly what she was he called me a liar.
+I struck him across the mouth, and he promptly
+knocked me down.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pretty good punch for a youngster,&#8221; was
+Cunningham&#8217;s comment.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It was,&#8221; replied Cleigh, grimly. &#8220;He went
+directly to his room, packed, and cleared out. In
+that he acted wisely, for at that moment I would
+have cast him out had he come with an apology.
+But the following day I could not find him; nor did
+I get track of him until weeks later. He had
+married the woman and then found her out.
+That&#8217;s all cleared off the slate, though. She&#8217;s been
+married and divorced three times since then.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you expect to see him over here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In Shanghai? No. The sight of him rather
+knocked me about. You understand? It was
+his place to make the first sign. He was in the
+wrong, and he has known it all these seven
+years.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said Jane, &#8220;it was your place to make the
+first advance. If you had been a comrade to him
+in his boyhood he would never have been in the
+wrong.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I gave him everything!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Everything but love. Did you ever tell him
+a fairy story?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A fairy story!&#8221; Cleigh&#8217;s face was the essence
+of bewilderment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You put him in the care of a lovable old
+dreamer, and then expected him to accept life as
+you knew it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh rumpled his cowlicks. A fairy story?
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span>
+But that was nonsense! Fairy stories had long
+since gone out of fashion.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When I saw you two together an idea popped
+into my head. But do you care for the boy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I care everything for him&mdash;or I shouldn&#8217;t be
+here!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cunningham relaxed a little more in his chair,
+his eyes still closed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean by that?&#8221; demanded Cleigh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I let you abduct me. I thought, maybe, if I
+were near you for a little I might bring you two
+together.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, now!&#8221; said Cleigh, falling into the old
+New England vernacular which was his birthright.
+&#8220;I brought you on board merely to lure him after
+you. I wanted you both on board so I could observe
+you. I intended to carry you both off on a
+cruise. I watched you from the door that night
+while you two were dining. I saw by his face and
+his gestures that he would follow you anywhere.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I&mdash;I am only a professional nurse. I&#8217;m
+nobody! I haven&#8217;t anything!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good Lord, will you listen to that?&#8221; cried the
+pirate, with a touch of his old banter. &#8220;Nobody
+and nothing?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Neither Jane nor Cleigh apparently heard this
+interpolation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why did you maltreat him?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Otherwise he would have thought I was offering
+my hand, that I had weakened.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you expected him to fall on your shoulder
+and ask your pardon after that? Mr. Cleigh, for
+a man of your intellectual attainments, your stand
+is the biggest piece of stupidity I ever heard of!
+How in the world was he to know what your
+thoughts were?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was giving him his chance,&#8221; declared Cleigh,
+stubbornly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A yacht? It&#8217;s a madhouse,&#8221; gibed Cunningham.
+&#8220;And this is a convention of fools!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you want me to act?&#8221; asked Cleigh,
+surrendering absolutely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When he comes to, take his hand. You don&#8217;t
+have to say anything else.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>From Dennison&#8217;s lips came a deep, long sigh.
+Jane leaned over.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Denny?&#8221; she whispered.</p>
+<p>The lids of Dennison&#8217;s eyes rolled back heavily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jane&mdash;all right?&#8221; he asked, quickly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. How do you feel?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He reached out a hand whence her voice came.
+She met the hand with hers, and that seemed to be
+all he wanted just then.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;d better get your bathrobe, Mr. Cleigh,&#8221;
+she suggested.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></p>
+<p>Cleigh became conscious for the first time of the
+condition of his pyjama jacket. It hung upon his
+torso in mere ribbons. He became conscious also
+of the fact that his body ached variously and
+substantially.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thirty-odd years since I was in a racket like
+this. I&#8217;m getting along.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And on the way,&#8221; put in Cunningham, &#8220;you
+might call Cleve. I&#8217;d feel better&mdash;stretched out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I had forgotten!&#8221; cried Jane, reproaching
+herself. Weakened as he was, and sitting in a
+chair!</p>
+<p>&#8220;And don&#8217;t forget, Cleigh, that I&#8217;m master of
+the <i>Wanderer</i> until I leave it. I sympathize
+deeply,&#8221; Cunningham went on, ironically, &#8220;but I
+have some active troubles of my own.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And God send they abide with you always!&#8221;
+was Cleigh&#8217;s retort.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They will&mdash;if that will give you any comfort.
+Do you know what? You will always have me to
+thank for this. That will be my comforting
+thought. The god in the car!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Later, when Cleve helped Cunningham into
+his bunk, the latter asked about the crew.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Scared stiff. They realize that it was a close
+shave. I&#8217;ve put the fools in irons. They&#8217;re best
+there until we leave. But we can&#8217;t do anything
+but forget the racket when we board the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span>
+Dutchman. Where&#8217;s that man Flint? We can&#8217;t find
+him anywhere. He&#8217;s at the bottom of it. I
+knew that sooner or later there&#8217;d be the devil to
+pay with a woman on board. Probably the fool&#8217;s
+hiding in the bunkers. I&#8217;ll give every rat hole
+a look-see. Pretty nearly got you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Flint was out of luck&mdash;and so was I! I
+thought in pistols, and forgot that there might be a
+knife or two. I&#8217;ll be on my feet in the morning.
+Little weak, that&#8217;s all. Nobody and nothing!&#8221;
+said Cunningham, addressing the remark to the
+crossbeam above his head.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s that?&#8221; asked Cleve.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was thinking out loud. Get back to the
+chart house. Old Newton may play us some
+trick if he isn&#8217;t watched. And don&#8217;t bother to
+search for Flint. I know where he is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Something in Cunningham&#8217;s tone coldly touched
+Cleve&#8217;s spine. He went out, closing the door
+quietly; and there was reason for the sudden sweat
+in his palms.</p>
+<p>Chance! A wry smile stirred one corner of
+Cunningham&#8217;s mouth. He had boasted that he
+had left nothing to chance, with this result!
+Burning up! Inward and outward fires! Love
+beads! Well, what were they if not that? But
+that she would trust him when everything about
+him should have repelled her! Was there a nugget
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span>
+of forgotten gold in his cosmos, and had she discovered
+it? She still trusted him, for he had
+sensed it in the quick but tender touch of her
+hands upon his throbbing wounds.</p>
+<p>To learn, after all these years, that he had been
+a coward! To have run away from misfortune
+instead of facing it and beating it down!</p>
+<p>Pearls! All he had left! And when he found
+them, what then? Turn them into money he no
+longer cared to spend? Or was this an interlude&mdash;a
+mocking interlude, and would to-morrow see
+his conscience relegated to the dustbin out of
+which it had so oddly emerged?</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>When Dennison opened his eyes again Jane was
+still holding his hand. Upon beholding his father
+Dennison held out his free hand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you take it, Father? I&#8217;m sorry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course I&#8217;ll take it, Denny. I was an old
+fool.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I was a young one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would you like a cup of coffee?&#8221; Cleigh asked,
+eagerly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If it won&#8217;t be too much trouble.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No trouble at all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A hand pressure, a few inconsequent phrases,
+that is always enough for two strong characters in
+the hour of reconciliation.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span></p>
+<p>Cleigh out of the way, Jane tried to disengage
+her hand, but Dennison only tightened his grip.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No&#8221;&mdash;a pause&mdash;&#8220;it&#8217;s different now. The old
+boy will find some kind of a job for me. Will you
+marry me, Jane? I did not speak before, because
+I hadn&#8217;t anything to offer.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I couldn&#8217;t offer marriage until I had a job.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But supposing your father doesn&#8217;t give you
+one?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You poor boy! I&#8217;m only fishing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, why do you want to marry me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hang it, because I love you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why didn&#8217;t you tell me that in the first place?
+How was I to know unless you told me? But oh,
+Denny, I want to go home!&#8221; She laid her cheek
+against his hand. &#8220;I want a garden with a picket
+fence round it and all the simple flowers. I never
+want another adventure in all my days!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Same here!&#8221;</p>
+<p>A stretch of silence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What happened to me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Someone hit you with a wine bottle.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A vintage&mdash;and I never got a swallow!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And then your father went to your defense.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The old boy? Honestly?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;He stood astride your body until Mr. Cunningham
+came in and stopped the mêlée.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cunningham! They quit?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;Flint. I didn&#8217;t dream it wouldn&#8217;t be
+safe to go on deck, and Flint caught me. He was
+drunk. But for Cunningham, I don&#8217;t know what
+would have happened. I ran and left them
+fighting, and Flint wounded Cunningham with a
+knife. It was for me, Denny. I feel so sorry for
+him! So alone, hating himself and hating the
+world, tortured with misunderstanding&mdash;good in
+him that he keeps smothering and trampling down.
+His unbroken word&mdash;to hang to that!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. So far as I&#8217;m concerned, that cleans
+the slate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I loved you, Denny, but I didn&#8217;t know how
+much until I saw you on the floor. Do you know
+what I was going to demand of your father as a
+reparation for bringing me on board? His hand
+in yours. That was all I wanted.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Always thinking of someone else!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all the happiness I&#8217;ve ever had, Denny&mdash;until
+now!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>A good deal of orderly commotion took
+place the following morning. Cunningham&#8217;s
+crew, under the temporary leadership
+of Cleve, proceeded to make everything shipshape.
+There was no exuberance; they went at
+the business quietly and grimly. They sensed a
+shadow overhead. The revolt of the six discovered
+to the others what a rickety bridge they
+were crossing, how easily and swiftly a jest may
+become a tragedy.</p>
+<p>They had accepted the game as a kind of huge
+joke. Everything had been prepared against
+failure; it was all cut and dried; all they had to do
+was to believe themselves. For days they had
+gone about their various duties thinking only of the
+gay time that would fall to their lot when they left
+the <i>Wanderer</i>. The possibility that Cleigh would
+not proceed in the manner advanced by Cunningham&#8217;s
+psychology never bothered them until now.
+Supposing the old man&#8217;s desire for vengeance was
+stronger than his love for his art objects? He was
+a fighter; he had proved it last night. Supposing he
+put up a fight and called in the British to help him?
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span></p>
+<p>Not one of them but knew what the penalty
+would be if pursued and caught. But Cunningham
+had persuaded them up to this hour that they
+would not even be pursued; that it would not be
+humanly possible for Cleigh to surrender the hope
+of eventually recovering his unlawful possessions.
+And now they began to wonder, to fret secretly, to
+reconsider the ancient saying that the way of the
+transgressor is hard.</p>
+<p>On land they could have separated and hidden
+successfully. Here at sea the wireless was an
+inescapable net. Their only hope was to carry
+on. Cunningham might pull them through. For,
+having his own hide to consider, he would bring to
+bear upon the adventure all his formidable ingenuity.</p>
+<p>At eleven the commotion subsided magically
+and the men vanished below, but at four-thirty
+they swarmed the port bow, silently if interestedly.
+If they talked at all it was in a whispering undertone.</p>
+<p>The mutinous revellers formed a group of their
+own. They appeared to have been roughly
+handled by the Cleighs. The attitude was humble,
+the expression worriedly sorrowful. Why hadn&#8217;t
+they beat a retreat? The psychology of their madness
+escaped them utterly. There was one grain
+of luck&mdash;they hadn&#8217;t killed young Cleigh. What
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span>
+fool had swung that bottle? Not one of them
+could recall.</p>
+<p>The engines of the <i>Wanderer</i> stopped, and she
+rolled lazily in the billowing brass, waiting.</p>
+<p>Out of the blinding topaz of the sou&#8217;west nosed
+a black object, illusory. It appeared to ride
+neither wind nor water.</p>
+<p>From the bridge Cleigh eyed this object dourly,
+and with a swollen heart he glanced from time
+to time at the crates and casings stacked below.
+He knew that he would never set eyes upon any
+of these treasures again. When they were lowered
+over the side that would be the end of them. Cunningham
+might be telling the truth as to his
+intentions; but he was promising something that
+was not conceivably possible, any more than it was
+possible to play at piracy and not get hurt.</p>
+<p>At Cleigh&#8217;s side stood the son, his head swathed
+in bandages. All day long he had been subjected
+to splitting headaches, and his face looked tired
+and drawn. He had stayed in bed until he had
+heard &#8220;Ship ahoy!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you going to start something?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>Cleigh did not answer, but peered through the
+glass again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see how you&#8217;re going to land him without
+the British. On the other hand, you can&#8217;t
+tell. Cunningham might bring the stuff back.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span></p>
+<p>Cleigh laughed, but still held the glass to his eye.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When and where are you going to get married?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Manila. Jane wants to go home, and I want
+a job.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh touched his split lips and his bruised
+cheekbone, for he had had to pay for his gallantry;
+and there was a spot in his small ribs that
+racked him whenever he breathed deeply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What the devil do you want of a job?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re not thinking that I&#8217;m going back on an
+allowance? I&#8217;ve had independence for seven
+years, and I&#8217;m going to keep it, Father.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve money enough&#8221;&mdash;brusquely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That isn&#8217;t it. I want to begin somewhere and
+build something for myself. You know as well
+as I do that if I went home on an allowance you&#8217;d
+begin right off to dominate me as you used to, and
+no man is going to do that again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What can you do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the point&mdash;I don&#8217;t know. I&#8217;ve got to
+find out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh lowered the glass.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s see; didn&#8217;t you work on a sugar plantation
+somewhere?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. How&#8217;d you find that out?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never mind about that. I can give you a
+job, and it won&#8217;t be soft, either. I&#8217;ve a sugar
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span>
+plantation in Hawaii that isn&#8217;t paying the dividends
+it ought to. I&#8217;ll turn the management over
+to you. You make good the second year, or back
+you come to me, domination and all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I agree to that&mdash;if the plantation can be
+developed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The stuff is there; all it needs is some pep.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, I&#8217;ll take the job.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You and your wife shall spend the fall and
+winter with me. In February you can start to
+work.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you out for Cunningham&#8217;s hide?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What would you do in my place?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sit tight and wait.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh laughed sardonically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because,&#8221; went on Dennison, &#8220;he&#8217;s played the
+game too shrewdly not to have other cards up his
+sleeve. He may find his pearls and return the
+loot.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you believe that? Don&#8217;t talk like a fool!
+I tell you, his pearls are in those casings there!
+But, son, I&#8217;m glad to have you back. And you&#8217;ve
+found a proper mate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t she glorious?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better than that. She&#8217;s the kind that&#8217;ll always
+be fussing over you, and that&#8217;s the kind a
+man needs. But mind your eye! Don&#8217;t take it
+for granted! Make her want to fuss over you.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></p>
+<p>When the oncoming tramp reached a point four
+hundred yards to the southwest of the yacht she
+slued round broadside. For a moment or two the
+reversed propeller&mdash;to keep the old tub from drifting&mdash;threw
+up a fountain; and before the sudsy
+eddies had subsided the longboat began a jerky
+descent. No time was going to be wasted evidently.</p>
+<p>The <i>Haarlem</i>&mdash;or whatever name was written
+on her ticket&mdash;was a picture. Even her shadows
+tried to desert her as she lifted and wallowed in the
+long, burnished rollers. There was something astonishingly
+impudent about her. She reminded
+Dennison of an old gin-sodden female derelict of
+the streets. There were red patches all over her,
+from stem to stern, where the last coat of waterproof
+black had blistered off. The brass of her
+ports were green. Her name should have been
+Neglect. She was probably full of smells; and
+Dennison was ready to wager that in a moderate
+sea her rivets and bedplates whined, and that the
+pump never rested.</p>
+<p>But it occurred to him that there must be some
+basis of fact in Cunningham&#8217;s pearl atoll, and
+yonder owner was game enough to take a sporting
+chance; that, or he had been handsomely paid for
+his charter.</p>
+<p>An atoll in the Sulu Archipelago that had been
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span>
+overlooked&mdash;that was really the incredible part of
+it. Dennison had first-hand knowledge that there
+wasn&#8217;t a rock in the whole archipelago that had
+not been looked over and under by the pearl
+hunters.</p>
+<p>He saw the tramp&#8217;s longboat come staggering
+across the intervening water. Rag-tag and bob-tail
+of the Singapore docks, crimp fodder&mdash;that
+was what Dennison believed he had the right to
+expect. And behold! Except that they were
+older, the newcomers lined up about average with
+the departing&mdash;able seamen.</p>
+<p>The transshipping of the crews occupied about
+an hour. As the longboat&#8217;s boat hook caught the
+<i>Wanderer&#8217;s</i> ladder for the third time the crates and
+casings were carried down and carefully deposited
+in the stern sheets.</p>
+<p>About this time Cunningham appeared. He
+paused by the rail for a minute and looked up at
+the Cleighs, father and son. He was pale, and his
+attitude suggested pain and weakness, but he was
+not too weak to send up his bantering smile.
+Cleigh, senior, gazed stonily forward, but Dennison
+answered the smile by soberly shaking his
+head. Dennison could not hear Cunningham&#8217;s
+laugh, but he saw the expression of it.</p>
+<p>Cunningham put his hand on the rail in preparation
+for the first step, when Jane appeared with
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span>
+bandages, castile soap, the last of her stearate of
+zinc, absorbent cotton and a basin of water.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s this&mdash;a clinic?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t go aboard that awful-looking ship
+without letting me give you a fresh dressing,&#8221; she
+declared.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lord love you, angel of mercy, I&#8217;m all right!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was for me. Even now you are in pain.
+Please!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pain?&#8221; he repeated.</p>
+<p>For one more touch of her tender hands! To
+carry the thought of that through the long, hot
+night! Perhaps it was his ever-bubbling sense of
+malice that decided him&mdash;to let her minister to
+him, with the Cleighs on the bridge to watch and
+boil with indignation. He nodded, and she followed
+him to the hatch, where he sat down.</p>
+<p>Dennison saw his father&#8217;s hands strain on the
+bridge rail, the presage of a gathering storm. He
+intervened by a rough seizure of Cleigh&#8217;s arm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Listen to me, Father! Not a word of reproach
+out of you when she comes up&mdash;God bless her!
+Anything in pain! It&#8217;s her way, and I&#8217;ll not have
+her reproached. God alone knows what the beggar
+saved her from last night! If you utter a word
+I&#8217;ll cash that twenty thousand&mdash;it&#8217;s mine now&mdash;and
+you&#8217;ll never see either of us after Manila!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh gently disengaged his arm.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Sonny, you&#8217;ve got a man&#8217;s voice under your
+shirt these days. All right. Run down and give
+the new crew the once-over, and see if they have a
+wireless man among them.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>Sunset&mdash;a scarlet horizon and an old-rose sea.
+For a little while longer the trio on the bridge could
+discern a diminishing black speck off to the southeast.
+The <i>Wanderer</i> was boring along a point
+north of east, Manila way. The speck soon lost
+its blackness and became violet, and then magically
+the streaked horizon rose up behind the
+speck and obliterated it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The poor benighted thing!&#8221; said Jane. &#8220;God
+didn&#8217;t mean that he should be this kind of a man.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Does any of us know what God wants of us?&#8221;
+asked Cleigh, bitterly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He wants men like you who pretend to the
+world that they&#8217;re granite-hearted when they&#8217;re
+not. Ever since we started, Denny, I&#8217;ve been trying
+to recall where I&#8217;d seen your father before; and
+it came a little while ago. I saw him only once&mdash;a
+broken child he&#8217;d brought to the hospital to be
+mended. I happened to be passing through the
+children&#8217;s ward for some reason. He called himself
+Jones or Brown or Smith&mdash;I forget. But they
+told me afterward that he brought on an average
+of four children a month, and paid all expenses
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span>
+until they were ready to go forth, if not cured at
+least greatly bettered. He told the chief that if
+anybody ever followed him he would never come
+back. Your father&#8217;s a hypocrite, Denny.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So that&#8217;s where I saw you?&#8221; said Cleigh,
+ruminatively. He expanded a little. He wanted
+the respect and admiration of this young woman&mdash;his
+son&#8217;s wife-to-be. &#8220;Don&#8217;t weave any golden
+halo for me,&#8221; he added, dryly. &#8220;After Denny
+packed up and hiked it came back rather hard that
+I hadn&#8217;t paid much attention to his childhood. It
+was a kind of penance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you liked it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe I only got used to it. Say, Denny,
+was there a wireless man in the crew?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. I knew there wouldn&#8217;t be. But I can
+handle the key.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fine! Come along then.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you going to do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do? Why, I&#8217;m going to have the Asiatic
+fleets on his heels inside of twenty-four hours!
+That&#8217;s what I&#8217;m going to do! He&#8217;s an unprincipled
+rogue!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; interposed Jane, &#8220;only a poor broken
+thing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s no fault of mine. But no man can
+play this sort of game with me, and show a clean
+pair of heels. The rug and the paintings are gone
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span>
+for good. I swore to him that I would have
+his hide, and have it I will! I never break my
+word.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Denny,&#8221; said Jane, &#8220;for my sake you will not
+touch the wireless.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m giving the orders!&#8221; roared Cleigh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait a moment!&#8221; said Jane. &#8220;You spoke of
+your word. That first night you promised me any
+reparation I should demand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I made that promise. Well?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Give him his eight months.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She gestured toward the sea, toward the spot
+where they had last seen the <i>Haarlem</i>.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You demand that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I only ask it. I understand the workings
+of that twisted soul, and you don&#8217;t. Let him have
+his queer dream&mdash;his boyhood adventure. Are
+you any better than he? Were those treasures
+honourably yours? Fie! No, I won&#8217;t demand
+that you let him go; I&#8217;ll only ask it. Because
+you will not deny to me what you gave to those
+little children&mdash;generosity.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh did not speak.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want to love you,&#8221; she continued, &#8220;but I
+couldn&#8217;t if there was no mercy in your sense of
+justice. Be merciful to that unhappy outcast,
+who probably never had any childhood, or if he
+had, a miserable one. Children are heartless; they
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span>
+don&#8217;t know any better. They pointed the finger
+of ridicule and contempt at him&mdash;his playmates.
+Imagine starting life like that! And he told me
+that the first woman he loved&mdash;laughed in his
+face! I feel&mdash;I don&#8217;t know why&mdash;that he was always
+without care, from his childhood up. He
+looked so forlorn! Eight months! We need
+never tell him. I&#8217;d rather he shouldn&#8217;t know that
+I tried to intercede for him. But for him we
+three would not be here together, with understanding.
+I only ask it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh turned and went down the ladder.
+Twenty times he circled the deck; then he paused
+under the bridge and sent up a hail.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dinner is ready!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The moment Jane reached the deck Cleigh put
+an arm round her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No other human being could have done it.
+It is a cup of gall and wormwood, but I&#8217;ll take it.
+Why? Because I am old and lonely and want a
+little love. I have no faith in Cunningham&#8217;s
+word, but he shall go free.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How long since you kissed any one?&#8221; she
+asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Many years.&#8221; And he stooped to her cheek.
+To press back the old brooding thought he said
+with cheerful brusqueness: &#8220;Suppose we celebrate?
+I&#8217;ll have Togo ice a bottle of that vintage
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span>
+those infernal ruffians broke over your head last
+night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison laughed.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>October.</p>
+<p>The Cleigh library was long and wide. There
+was a fine old blue Ispahan on the floor. The
+chairs were neither historical nor uncomfortable.
+One came in here to read. The library was on the
+second floor. When you reached this room you
+left the affairs of state and world behind.</p>
+<p>A wood fire crackled and shifted in the fireplace,
+the marble hood of which had been taken from a
+famous Italian palace. The irons stood ready as
+of yore for the cups of mulled wine. Before this
+fire sat a little old woman knitting. Her feet were
+on a hassock. From time to time her bird-like
+glance swept the thinker in the adjacent chair.
+She wondered what he could see in the fire there
+to hold his gaze so steadily. The little old lady
+had something of the attitude of a bird that had
+been given its liberty suddenly, and having always
+lived in a cage knew not what to make of all these
+vast spaces.</p>
+<p>She was Jane&#8217;s mother, and sitting in the chair
+beside her was Anthony Cleigh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There are said to be only five portable authentic
+paintings by Leonardo da Vinci,&#8221; said Cleigh,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span>
+&#8220;and I had one of them, Mother. Illegally, perhaps,
+but still I had it. It is a copy that hangs in
+the European gallery. There&#8217;s a point. Gallery
+officials announce a theft only when some expert
+had discovered the substitution. There are a
+number of so-called Da Vincis, but those are the
+works of Boltraffio, Da Vinci&#8217;s pupil. I&#8217;ll always
+be wondering, even in my grave, where that crook,
+Eisenfeldt, had disposed of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Norman went on with her knitting. What
+she heard was as instructive and illuminating to
+her as Chinese would have been.</p>
+<p>From the far end of the room came piano music;
+gentle, dreamy, broken occasionally by some fine,
+thrilling chord. Dennison played well, but he had
+the habit of all amateurs of idling, of starting something,
+and running away into improvisations.
+Seated beside him on the bench was Jane, her head
+inclined against his shoulder. Perhaps that was
+a good reason why he began a composition and did
+not carry it through to its conclusion.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That was a trick of his mother&#8217;s,&#8221; said Cleigh,
+still addressing the fire. &#8220;All the fine things in
+him he got from her. I gave him his shoulders,
+but I guess that&#8217;s about all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Norman did not turn her head. She had
+already learned that she wasn&#8217;t expected to reply
+unless Cleigh looked at her directly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a high wind outside. More rain,
+probably. But that&#8217;s October in these parts.
+You&#8217;ll like it in Hawaii. Never any of this brand
+of weather. I may be able to put the yacht into
+commission.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The sea!&#8221; she said in a little frightened whisper.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>&#8220;Doorbells!&#8221; said Dennison with gentle mockery.
+&#8220;Jane, you&#8217;re always starting up when you
+hear one. Still hanging on? It isn&#8217;t Cunningham&#8217;s
+willingness to fulfill his promise; it&#8217;s his
+ability I doubt. A thousand and one things may
+upset his plans.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know. But, win or lose, he was to let me
+know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The poor devil! I never dared say so to
+Father, but when I learned that Cunningham
+meant no harm to you I began to boost for him. I
+like to see a man win against huge odds, and that&#8217;s
+what he has been up against.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Denny, I&#8217;ve never asked before; I&#8217;ve been a
+little afraid to, but did you see Flint when the
+crew left?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I honestly didn&#8217;t notice; I was so interested
+in the disreputable old hooker that was to take
+them off.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She sighed. Fragments of that night were always
+recurring in her dreams.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span></p>
+<p>The door opened and the ancient butler entered.
+His glance roved until it caught the little tuft of
+iron-gray hair that protruded above the rim of the
+chair by the fire. Noiselessly he crossed the room.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Beg pardon, sir,&#8221; he said, &#8220;but a van arrived
+a few minutes ago with a number of packing cases.
+The men said they were for you, sir. The cases are
+in the lower hall. Any orders, sir?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh rose.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cases? Benson, did you say&mdash;cases?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir. I fancy some paintings you&#8217;ve
+ordered, sir.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh stood perfectly still. The butler eyed
+him with mild perturbation. Rarely he saw bewilderment
+on his master&#8217;s countenance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cases?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir. Fourteen or fifteen of them, sir.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh felt oddly numb. For days now he had
+denied to himself the reason for his agitation whenever
+the telephone or doorbell rang. Hope! It
+had not served to crush it down, to buffet it aside
+by ironical commentaries on the weakness of human
+nature; the thing was uncrushable, insistent.
+Packing cases!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Denny! Jane!&#8221; he cried, and bolted for the
+door.</p>
+<p>The call needed no interpretation. The two
+understood, and followed him downstairs
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span>
+precipitately, with the startled Benson the tail to the
+kite.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, no!&#8221; shouted Cleigh. &#8220;The big one
+first!&#8221; as Dennison laid one of the smaller cases
+on the floor. &#8220;Benson, where the devil is the claw
+hammer?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The butler foraged in the coat closet and
+presently emerged with a prier. Cleigh literally
+snatched it from the astonished butler&#8217;s grasp,
+pried and tore off a board. He dug away at the
+excelsior until he felt the cool glass under his
+fingers. He peered through this glass.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Denny, it&#8217;s the rug!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh&#8217;s voice cracked and broke into a queer
+treble note.</p>
+<p>Jane shook her head. Here was an incurable
+passion, based upon the specious argument that
+galleries and museums had neither consciences nor
+stomachs. You could not hurt a wall by robbing
+it of a painting&mdash;a passion that would abide with
+him until death. Not one of these treasures in
+the casings was honourably his, but they were more
+to him than all his legitimate possessions. To ask
+him to return the objects to the galleries and
+museums to which they belonged would be asking
+Cleigh to tear out his heart. Though the passion
+was incomprehensible, Jane readily observed its
+effects. She had sensed the misery, the anxiety,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span>
+the stinging curiosity of all these months. Not to
+know exactly what had become of the rug and the
+paintings! Not to know if he would ever see them
+again! There was only one comparison she could
+bring to bear as an illustration: Cleigh was like
+a man whose mistress had forsaken him without
+explanations.</p>
+<p>She was at once happy and sad: happy that her
+faith in Cunningham had not been built upon sand,
+sad that she could not rouse Cleigh&#8217;s conscience.
+Secretly a charitable man, honest in his financial
+dealings, he could keep&mdash;in hiding, mind you!&mdash;that
+which did not belong to him. It was beyond
+her understanding.</p>
+<p>An idea, which had been nebulous until this
+moment, sprang into being.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Father,&#8221; she said, &#8220;you will do me a favour?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you want&mdash;a million? Run and get
+my check book!&#8221; he cried, gayly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The other day you spoke of making a new will.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh stared at her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you leave these objects to the legal
+owners?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh got up, brushing his knees.</p>
+<p>&#8220;After I am dead? I never thought of that.
+After I&#8217;m dead,&#8221; he repeated. &#8220;Child, a conscience
+like yours is top-heavy. Still, I&#8217;ll mull it
+over. I can&#8217;t take &#8217;em to the grave with me, that&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span>
+a fact. But my ghost is bound to get leg-weary
+doing the rounds to view them again. What do
+you say, Denny?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you don&#8217;t, I will!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh chuckled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That makes it unanimous. I&#8217;ll put it in the
+codicil. But while I live! Benson, what did
+these men look like? One of them limp?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, sir. Ordinary trucking men, I should
+say, sir.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The infernal scoundrel! No message?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, sir. The man who rang the bell said he
+had some cases for you, and asked where he should
+put them. I thought the hall the best place, sir,
+temporarily.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The infernal scoundrel!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What the dickens is the matter with you,
+Father!&#8221; demanded Dennison. &#8220;You&#8217;ve got back
+the loot.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But how? The story, Denny! The rogue
+leaves me &#8217;twixt wind and water as to how he got
+out of this hole.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe he was afraid you still wanted his
+hide,&#8221; suggested Jane, now immeasurably happy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He did it!&#8221; said Cleigh, his sense of amazement
+awakening. &#8220;One chance in a thousand,
+and he caught that chance! But never to know
+how he did it!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Aren&#8217;t you glad now,&#8221; said Jane, &#8220;that you
+let him go?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cleigh chuckled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There!&#8221; she exclaimed, clapping her hands.
+&#8220;Just as he said! He prophesied that some day
+you would chuckle over it. He found his pearls.
+He knew he would find them! The bell!&#8221; she
+broke off, startled.</p>
+<p>Never had Benson, the butler, witnessed such
+an exhibition of undignified haste. Cleigh, Jane,
+and Dennison, all three of them started for the
+door at once, jostling. What they found was only
+a bedraggled messenger boy, for it was now raining.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Cleigh,&#8221; said the boy, grumpily, as he
+presented a letter and a small box. &#8220;No answer.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is the man who sent you?&#8221; asked Jane,
+tremendously excited.</p>
+<p>&#8220;De office pushed me on dis job, miss. Dey
+said maybe I&#8217;d git a good tip if I hustled.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dennison thrust a bill into the boy&#8217;s hand and
+shunted him forth into the night again.</p>
+<p>The letter was marked Number One and addressed
+to Cleigh; the box was marked Number
+Two and addressed to Jane.</p>
+<p>Mad, thought Benson, as he began to gather up
+the loose excelsior; quite mad, the three of them.</p>
+<p>With Jane at one shoulder and Dennison at the
+other, Cleigh opened his letter. The first
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span>
+extraction was a chart. An atoll; here were
+groups of cocoanut palm, there of plantain; a rudely
+drawn hut. In the lagoon at a point east of
+north was a red star, and written alongside was
+a single word. But to the three it was an Odyssey&mdash;&#8220;Shell.&#8221;
+In the lower left-hand corner of the
+chart were the exact degrees and minutes of longitude
+and latitude. With this chart a landlubber
+could have gone straight to the atoll.</p>
+<p>Next came the letter, which Cleigh did not read
+aloud&mdash;it was not necessary. With what variant
+emotions the three pairs of eyes leaped from word
+to word!</p>
+<div class='blockquot'>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Friend Buccaneer</span>: Of course I found the shell. That was
+the one issue which offered no odds. The shell lay in its bed
+peculiarly under a running ledge. The ordinary pearler
+would have discovered it only by the greatest good luck.
+Atherton&mdash;my friend&mdash;discovered it, because he was a sea
+naturalist, and was hunting for something altogether different.
+Atherton was wealthy, and a coral reef was more to him than a
+pearl. But he knew me and what such a game would mean.
+He was in ill health and had to leave the South Pacific and
+fare north. This atoll was his. It is now mine, pearls and
+all, legally mine. For a trifling sum I could have chartered a
+schooner and sought the atoll.</p>
+<p>But all my life I&#8217;ve hunted odds&mdash;big, tremendous odds&mdash;to
+crush down and swarm over. The only interest I had in life.
+And so I planted the crew and stole the <i>Wanderer</i> because it
+presented whopping odds. I selected a young and dare-devil
+crew to keep me on edge. From one day to another I was always
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span>
+wondering when they would break over. I refused to
+throw overboard the wines and liquors to make a good measure.</p>
+<p>And there was you. Would you sit tight under such an
+outrage, or would your want of revenge ride you? Would you
+send the British piling on top of me, or would you make it a
+private war? Suspense! Dick Cunningham would not be
+hard to trace. Old Slue Foot. The biggest odds I&#8217;d ever
+encountered. Nominally, I had about one chance in a
+thousand of pulling through.</p>
+<p>The presence of Mrs. Cleigh&mdash;of course she&#8217;s Mrs. Cleigh by
+this time!&mdash;added to the zest. To bring her through with
+nothing more than a scare! Odds, odds! Cleigh, on my
+word, the pearls would have been of no value without the
+game I built to go with them. Over the danger route! Mad?
+Of course I&#8217;m mad!</p>
+<p>Four-year-old shell, the pearls of the finest orient! The
+shell alone&mdash;in buttons&mdash;would have recouped Eisenfeldt.
+He was ugly when he saw that I had escaped him. Threatened
+to expose you. But knowing Eisenfeldt for what he is, I had
+a little sword of Damocles suspended over his thick neck.
+The thought of having lost eight months&#8217; interest will follow
+him to Hades.</p>
+<p>The crew gave me no more trouble. They&#8217;ve been paid
+their dividends in the Great Adventure Company, and have
+gone seeking others. But I&#8217;ll warrant they&#8217;ll take only
+regular berths in the future.</p>
+<p>And now those beads. I&#8217;m sorry, but I&#8217;m also innocent. I
+have learned that Morrissy really double-crossed us all. He
+had had a copy made in Venice. The beads you have are
+forgeries. So the sixty thousand offered by the French
+Government remains uncalled for. Who has the originals I
+can&#8217;t say. I&#8217;m sorry. Morrissy&#8217;s game was risky. His idea
+was to make a sudden breakaway with the beads&mdash;lose them
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span>
+in the gutter&mdash;and trust to luck that we would just miss killing
+him, which was the case.</p>
+<p>Leaving to-night. Bought a sloop down there, and I&#8217;m
+going back there to live. Tired of human beings. Tired of
+myself. Still, there&#8217;s the chart. Mull it over. Maybe it&#8217;s
+an invitation. The lagoon is like turquoise and the land like
+emerald and the sky a benediction.</p>
+</div>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>A spell of silence and immobility. Not a word
+about his battle with Flint, thought Jane. A
+little shiver ran over her. But what a queer,
+whimsical madman! To have planned it all so
+that he could experience a thrill! The tragic
+beauty of his face and the pitiable, sluing, lurching
+stride! She sighed audibly, so did the two men.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Denny, I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; said Cleigh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do!&#8221; said Dennison, anticipating his father&#8217;s
+thought. &#8220;He&#8217;s a man, and some day I&#8217;d like to
+clasp his hand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe we all shall,&#8221; said Cleigh. &#8220;But open
+the box, Jane, and let&#8217;s see.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Between the layers of cotton wool she found a
+single pearl as large as a hazelnut, pink as the
+Oriental dawn. One side was slightly depressed,
+as though some mischievous, inquisitive mermaid
+had touched it in passing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, the lovely thing!&#8221; she gasped. &#8220;The
+lovely thing! But, Denny, I can&#8217;t accept it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And how are you going to refuse it? Keep it.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span>
+It is an emblem of what you are, honey. The
+poor devil!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And he put his arm round her. He understood.
+Why not? There are certain attractions which
+are irresistible, and Jane was unconscious of her
+possessions.</p>
+<p>Jane raised the bottom layer of cotton wool.
+What impulse led her to do this she could not say,
+but she found a slip of paper across which was
+written:</p>
+<div class='ce'>
+<p>&#8220;<i>An&#8217; I learned about women from &#8217;er.</i>&#8221;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>All this while, across the street, in the shadow
+of an areaway, stood a man in a mackintosh and a
+felt hat drawn well down. He had watched the
+van disgorge and roll away, the arrival and the
+departure of the messenger boy.</p>
+<p>He began to intone softly: &#8220;&#8216;Many waters
+cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown
+it: if a man would give all the substance of his
+house for love, it would utterly be contemned.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>With a sluing lurch to his stride he started
+off down the street, into the lashing rain. A
+great joke; and now there was nothing at all to disturb
+his dreams&mdash;but the dim white face of Jabez
+Flint spinning in the dark of the sea.</p>
+<div class='ce'>
+<p>THE END</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='' title=''  /><br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p>THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS</p>
+<p>GARDEN CITY, N. Y.</p>
+</div>
+
+<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 2.55 -->
+<!-- timestamp: Wed Nov 26 18:03:10 -0700 2008 -->
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pagan Madonna, by Harold MacGrath
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@@ -0,0 +1,8002 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pagan Madonna, by Harold MacGrath
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Pagan Madonna
+
+Author: Harold MacGrath
+
+Illustrator: W. H. D. Koerner
+
+Release Date: November 27, 2008 [EBook #27339]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PAGAN MADONNA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BOOKS BY HAROLD MACGRATH
+
+ADVENTURES OF KATHLYN
+ARMS AND THE WOMAN
+BEST MAN
+CARPET FROM BAGDAD
+DEUCES WILD
+ENCHANTED HAT
+GOOSE GIRL
+HALF A ROGUE
+HEARTS AND MASKS
+LUCK OF THE IRISH: A ROMANCE
+LURE OF THE MASK
+MILLION DOLLAR MYSTERY
+PARROT & CO.
+PIDGIN ISLAND
+PLACE OF HONEYMOONS
+PRINCESS ELOPES
+PUPPET CROWN
+SPLENDID HAZARD
+THE DRUMS OF JEOPARDY
+THE GIRL IN HIS HOUSE
+THE GREY CLOAK
+THE MAN ON THE BOX
+THE MAN WITH THREE NAMES
+THE PAGAN MADONNA
+THE PRIVATE WIRE TO WASHINGTON
+THE YELLOW TYPHOON
+VOICE OF THE FOG
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'Thank you for coming up,' said Cunningham. 'It makes me
+feel that you trust me.'"]
+
+
+
+
+THE
+PAGAN MADONNA
+
+BY
+HAROLD MacGRATH
+
+FRONTISPIECE
+BY
+W. H. D. KOERNER
+
+GARDEN CITY, N. Y., AND TORONTO
+DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+1921
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
+
+DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
+INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+THE PAGAN MADONNA
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Humdrum isn't where you live; it's what you are. Perhaps you are one of
+those whose lives are bound by neighbourly interests. Imaginatively, you
+never seek what lies under a gorgeous sunset; you are never stirred by any
+longing to investigate the ends of rainbows. You are more concerned by
+what your neighbour does every day than by what he might do if he were
+suddenly spun, whirled, jolted out of his poky orbit. The blank door of an
+empty house never intrigues you; you enter blind alleys without thrilling
+in the least; you hear a cry in the night and impute it to some marauding
+tom. Lord, what a life!
+
+And yet every move you make is governed by Chance--the Blind Madonna of
+the Pagan, as that great adventurer, Stevenson, called it. You never
+stop to consider that it is only by chance that you leave home and arrive
+at the office alive--millions and millions of you--poor old
+stick-in-the-muds! Because this or that hasn't happened to you, you
+can't be made to believe that it might have happened to someone else.
+What's a wood fire to you but a shin warmer? And how you hate to walk
+alone! So sheer off--this is not for you.
+
+But to you, fenced in by circumstance, walls of breathless brick and
+stone, suffocating with longing, you whose thought springs ever toward the
+gorgeous sunset and the ends of rainbows; who fly in dreams across the
+golden south seas to the far countries, you whose imagination transforms
+every ratty old square-rigger that pokes down the bay into a Spanish
+galleon--come with me.
+
+                   For to admire an' for to see,
+                   For to be'old this world so wide.
+
+First off, Ling Foo, of Woosung Road, perhaps the most bewildered Chinaman
+in all Shanghai last April. The Blind Madonna flung him into a great game
+and immediately cast him out of it, giving him never an inkling of what
+the game was about and leaving him buffeted by the four winds of wonder.
+
+A drama--he was sure of that--had rolled up, touched him icily if
+slightly, and receded, like a wave on the beach, without his knowing in
+the least what had energized it in his direction. During lulls, for years
+to come, Ling Foo's consciousness would strive to press behind the wall
+for a key to the riddle; for years to come he would be searching the
+International Bund, Nanking Road, Broadway and Bubbling Well roads for the
+young woman with the wonderful ruddy hair and the man who walked with the
+sluing lurch.
+
+Ah, but that man--the face of him, beautiful as that of a foreign boy's,
+now young, now old, as though a cobweb shifted to and fro across it! The
+fire in those dark eyes and the silk on that tongue! Always that face
+would haunt him, because it should not have been a man's but a woman's.
+Ling Foo could not go to his gods for comparisons, for a million
+variations of Buddha offered no such countenance; so his recollection
+would always be tinged with a restless sense of dissatisfaction.
+
+There were other faces in the picture, but with the exception of the
+woman's and the man's he could not reassemble the features of any.
+
+A wild and bitter night. The nor'easter, packed with a cold, penetrating
+rain, beat down from the Yellow Sea, its insensate fury clearing the
+highways of all save belated labourers and 'ricksha boys. Along the
+Chinese Bund the sampans huddled even more closely together, and rocked
+and creaked and complained. The inscrutable countenance of the average
+Chinaman is the result of five thousand years of misery. It was a night
+for hand warmers--little jigsawed brass receptacles filled with smoldering
+punk or charcoal, which you carried in your sleeves and hugged if you
+happened to be a Chinaman, as Ling Foo was.
+
+He was a merchant. He sold furs, curios, table linen, embroideries. His
+shop was out on the Woosung Road. He did not sit on his stool or in his
+alcove and wait for customers. He made packs of his merchandise and
+canvassed the hotels in the morning, from floor to floor, from room to
+room. His curios, however, he left in the shop. That was his lure to bring
+his hotel customers round in the afternoon, when there were generally
+additional profits and no commissions. This, of course, had been the
+_modus operandi_ in the happy days before 1914, when white men began the
+slaughter of white men. Nowadays Ling Foo was off to the Astor House the
+moment he had news of a ship dropping anchor off the bar twelve miles down
+the Whangpoo River. The hour no longer mattered; the point was to beat his
+competitors to the market--and often there was no market.
+
+He did not call the white people foreign devils; he called them customers.
+That they worshipped a bearded Buddha was no concern of his. Born in the
+modern town, having spent twelve years in San Francisco, he was not
+heavily barnacled with tradition. He was shrewd, a suave bargainer, and
+as honest as the day is long. His English was fluent.
+
+To-night he was angry with the fates. The ship was hours late. Moreover,
+it was a British transport, dropping down from Vladivostok. He would be
+wasting his time to wait for such passengers as came ashore. They would be
+tired and hungry and uncomfortable. So at seven o'clock he lit a piece of
+punk, dropped it into his hand warmer, threw his pack over his shoulders,
+and left the cheery lobby of the hotel where he had been waiting since
+five in the afternoon. He would be cold and wet and hungry when he reached
+his shop.
+
+Outside he called to a disconsolate 'ricksha boy, and a moment later
+rattled across the bridge that spans the Soochow Creek. Even the Sikh
+policeman had taken to cover. When he finally arrived home he was drenched
+from his cap button to the wooden soles of his shoes. He unlocked the shop
+door, entered, flung the pack on the floor, and turned on the electric
+light. Twenty minutes later he was in dry clothes; hot rice, bean curd,
+and tea were warming him; and he sat cross-legged in a little alcove
+behind his till, smoking his metal pipe. Two or three puffs, then he would
+empty the ash in a brass bowl. He repeated this action half a dozen times.
+He was emptying the ash for the last time when the door opened violently
+and a man lurched in, hatless and apparently drunk--a white man.
+
+But instantly Ling Foo saw that the man was not drunk. Blood was streaming
+down his face, which was gray with terror and agony. The man made a
+desperate effort to save himself from falling, and dragged a pile of
+embroidered jackets to the floor as he went down.
+
+Ling Foo did not stir. It was not possible for him to move. The suddenness
+of the spectacle had disconnected thought from action. He saw all this,
+memorized it, even speculated upon it; but he could not move.
+
+The door was still open. The rain slanted across the black oblong space.
+He saw it strike the windows, pause, then trickle down. He could not see
+what had become of the man; the counter intervened. A tingle ran through
+Ling Foo's body, and he knew that his brain had gained control of his body
+again. But before this brain could telegraph to his legs three men rushed
+into the shop. A bubble of sound came into Ling Foo's throat--one of those
+calls for help that fear smothers.
+
+The three men disappeared instantly below the counter rim. Silence, except
+for the voices of the rain and the wind. Ling Foo, tensely, even
+painfully alive now, waited. He was afraid, and it was perfectly logical
+fear. Perhaps they had not noticed him in the alcove. So he waited for
+this fantastic drama to end.
+
+The three men rose in unison. Ling Foo saw that they were carrying the
+fourth between them. The man who carried the head and shoulders of the
+victim--for Ling Foo was now certain that murder was abroad--limped oddly,
+with a heave and a sluing twist. Ling Foo slid off his cushion and stepped
+round the counter in time to see the night absorb the back of the man who
+limped. He tried to recall the face of the man, but could not. His initial
+terror had drawn for him three white patches where faces should have
+been.
+
+For several minutes Ling Foo stared at the oblong blackness; then with a
+hysterical gurgle he ran to the door, slammed and bolted it, and leaned
+against the jamb, sick and faint, yet oddly relieved. He would not now
+have to account to the police for the body of an unknown white man.
+
+A queer business. Nothing exciting ever happened along this part of
+Woosung Road. What he had witnessed--it still wasn't quite
+believable--belonged to the water front. Things happened there, for these
+white sailors were a wild lot.
+
+When the vertigo went out of his legs, Ling Foo cat-stepped over to the
+scattered embroidered jackets and began mechanically to replace them on
+the counter--all but two, for these were speckled with blood. He
+contemplated them for a space, and at last picked them up daintily and
+tossed them into a far corner. When the blood dried he would wash them out
+himself.
+
+But there was that darkening stain on the floor. That would have to be
+washed out at once or it would be crying up to him eternally and recasting
+the tragic picture. So he entered the rear of the shop and summoned his
+wife. Meekly she obeyed his order and scrubbed the stain. Her beady little
+black eyes were so tightly lodged in her head that it was not possible for
+her to elevate her brows in surprise. But she knew that this stain was
+blood.
+
+Ling Foo solemnly waved her aside when the task was done, and she
+slip-slapped into the household dungeon out of which she had emerged.
+
+Her lord and master returned to his alcove. Ah, but the pipe was good! He
+rocked slightly as he smoked. Three pipefuls were reduced to ashes; then
+he wriggled off the cushion, picked up his cash counter and began
+slithering the buttons back and forth; not because there were any profits
+or losses that day, but because it gave a welcome turn to his thoughts.
+
+The storm raged outside. Occasionally he felt the floor shudder. The
+windows ran thickly with rain. The door rattled. It was as if all objects
+inanimate were demanding freedom from bolts and nails. With the tip of his
+long, slender finger Ling Foo moved the buttons. He counted what his
+profits would be in Manchurian sables; in the two Ming vases that had come
+in mysteriously from Kiao-chau--German loot from Peking; counted his
+former profits in snuff bottles, and so on.
+
+The door rattled furiously.
+
+Ling Foo could consider himself as tolerably wealthy. Some day, when this
+great turmoil among the whites subsided, he would move to South China and
+grow little red oranges and melons, and there would be a nook in the
+gardens where he could sit with the perfume of jasmine swimming over and
+about his head and the goodly Book of Confucius on his knees.
+
+A thudding sound--that wasn't the wind. Ling Foo looked over his buttons.
+He saw a human face outside the door; a beautiful boy's face--white. That
+was the first impression. But as he stared he saw a man's fury destroy the
+boyish stamp--gestures that demanded admission.
+
+But Ling Foo shook his head with equal emphasis. He would not go near that
+door again this night.
+
+The man outside shook his fists threateningly, wheeled, and strode off.
+Three strides took him out of sight; but Ling Foo, with a damp little
+chill on his spine, remarked that the visitor limped.
+
+So! This would be the man who had carried the bloody head and shoulders of
+the unknown.
+
+Oriental curiosity blazed up and over Ling Foo's distaste. What was it all
+about? Why had the limping man returned and demanded entrance? What had
+they done with the body? Pearls! The thought struck him as a blow. He
+began to understand something of the episode. Pearls! The beaten man had
+heard that sometimes Ling Foo of Woosung Road dealt in pearls without
+being overcurious. A falling out among thieves, and one had tried to
+betray his confederates, paying grimly for it. Pearls!
+
+He trotted down to the door and peered into the night, but he could see
+nothing. He wished now that he had purchased those window curtains such as
+the white merchants used over on the Bund. Every move he made could be
+seen from across the way, and the man who limped might be lurking there,
+watching.
+
+The man had come to him with pearls, but he had not been quick enough.
+What had he done with them? The man with the slue-foot would not have
+returned had he found the pearls on his moribund partner. That was sound
+reasoning. Ling Foo's heart contracted, then expanded and began to beat
+like a bird's wing. In here somewhere--on the floor!
+
+He turned away from the door without haste. His Oriental mind worked
+quickly and smoothly. He would tramp back and forth the length of the shop
+as if musing, but neither nook nor crevice should escape his eye. He was
+heir to these pearls. Slue-Foot--for so Ling Foo named his visitor--would
+not dare molest him, since he, Ling Foo, could go to the authorities and
+state that murder had been done. Those tiger eyes in a boy's face! His
+spine grew cold.
+
+Nevertheless, he set about his game. With his hands in his sleeves, his
+chin down, he paced the passage between the two counters. As he turned for
+the fifth journey a red-and-blue flash struck his eye. The flash came from
+the far corner of the shop, from the foot of the gunpowder-blue temple
+vase. Diamonds--not pearls but diamonds! Russian loot!
+
+Ling Foo pressed down his excitement and slowly approached the vase. A
+necklace! He gave the object a slight kick, which sent it rattling toward
+the door to the rear. He resumed his pacing. Each time he reached the
+necklace he gave it another kick. At length the necklace was at the
+threshold. Ling Foo approached the light and shut it off. Next he opened
+the door and kicked the necklace across the threshold. Diamonds--thirty
+or forty of them on a string.
+
+The room in the rear was divided into workshop and storeroom. The living
+rooms were above. His wife was squatted on the floor in an unlittered
+corner mending a ceremonial robe of his. She was always in this room at
+night when Ling Foo was in the shop.
+
+He ignored her and carried his prize to a lapidary's bench. He perched
+himself on a stool and reached for his magnifying glass. A queer little
+hiss broke through his lips. Cut-glass beads, patently Occidental, and
+here in Shanghai practically worthless!
+
+In his passion of disappointment he executed a gesture as if to hurl the
+beads to the floor, but let his arm sink slowly. He had made a mistake.
+These beads had not brought tragedy in and out of his shop. Somehow he had
+missed the object; some nook or corner had escaped him. In the morning he
+would examine every inch of the floor. White men did not kill each other
+for a string of glass beads.
+
+He stirred the beads about on his palm, and presently swung them under the
+droplight. Beautifully cut, small and large beads alternating, and on the
+smaller a graven letter he could not decipher. He observed some dark
+specks, and scrutinized them under the magnifying glass. Blood! His
+Oriental mind groped hopelessly. Blood! He could make nothing of it. A
+murderous quarrel over such as these!
+
+For a long time Ling Foo sat on his stool, the image of Buddha
+contemplating the way. Outside the storm carried on vigorously, sending
+rattles into casements and shudders into doors. The wifely needle, a
+thread of silver fire, shuttled back and forth in the heavy brocade silk.
+
+Glass beads! Trumpery! Ling Foo slid off the stool and shuffled back into
+the shop for his metal pipe.
+
+Having pushed Ling Foo into this blind alley, out of which he was shortly
+to emerge, none the wiser, the Pagan Madonna swooped down upon the young
+woman with the ruddy hair and touched her with the impelling finger.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+It was chance that brought Jane Norman into Shanghai. The British
+transport, bound from Vladivostok to Hong-Kong, was destined to swing on
+her mudhook forty-eight hours. So Jane, a Red Cross nurse, relieved and on
+the first leg of the journey home to the United States, decided to spend
+those forty-eight hours in Shanghai, see the sights and do a little
+shopping. Besides, she had seen nothing of China. On the way over,
+fourteen months since, she had come direct from San Francisco to the
+Russian port.
+
+Jane was one of those suffocating adventurers whom circumstance had fenced
+in. In fancy she beat her hands against the bars of this cage that had no
+door, but through which she could see the caravans of dreams. Sea room and
+sky room were the want of her, and no matter which way she turned--bars.
+Her soul craved colour, distances, mountain peaks; and about all she had
+ever seen were the white walls of hospital wards. It is not adventure to
+tend the sick, to bind up wounds, to cheer the convalescing; it is a dull
+if angelic business.
+
+In her heart of hearts Jane knew that she had accepted the hardships of
+the Siberian campaign with the secret hope that some adventure might
+befall her--only to learn that her inexorable cage had travelled along
+with her. Understand, this longing was not the outcome of romantical
+reading; it was in the marrow of her--inherent. She was not in search of
+Prince Charming. She rarely thought of love as other young women think of
+it. She had not written in her mind any particular event she wanted to
+happen; but she knew that there must be colour, distance, mountain peaks.
+A few days of tremendous excitement; and then she acknowledged that she
+would be quite ready to return to the old monotonous orbit.
+
+The Great War to Jane had not been romance and adventure; her imagination,
+lively enough in other directions, had not falsely coloured the stupendous
+crime. She had accepted it instantly for what it was--pain, horror, death,
+hunger, and pestilence. She saw it as the genius of Vasili Vereshchagin
+and Emile Zola had seen it.
+
+The pioneer--after all, what was it he was truly seeking? Freedom! And as
+soon as ever civilization caught up with him he moved on. Without
+understanding it, that was really all Jane wanted--freedom. Freedom from
+genteel poverty, freedom from the white walls of hospitals, freedom from
+exactly measured hours. Twenty four hours a day, all her own; that was
+what she wanted; twenty-four hours a day to do with as she pleased--to
+sleep in, play, laugh, sing, love in. Pioneers, explorers,
+adventurers--what else do they seek? Twenty-four hours a day, all their
+own!
+
+At half after eight--about the time Ling Foo slid off his stool--the
+tender from the transport sloshed up to the customs jetty and landed Jane,
+a lone woman among a score of officers of various nationalities. But it
+really wasn't the customs jetty her foot touched; it was the outer rim of
+the whirligig.
+
+Some officer had found an extra slicker for her and an umbrella. Possibly
+the officer in olive drab who assisted her to the nearest covered 'ricksha
+and directed the placement of her luggage.
+
+"China!"
+
+"Yes, ma'am. Mandarin coats and oranges, jade and jasmine, Pekingese and
+red chow dogs."
+
+"Oh, I don't mean that kind!" she interrupted. "I should think these poor
+'ricksha boys would die of exposure."
+
+"Manchus are the toughest human beings on earth. I'll see you in the
+morning?"
+
+"That depends," she answered, "upon the sun. If it rains I shall lie abed
+all day. A real bed! Honour bright, I've often wondered if I should ever
+see one again. Fourteen months in that awful world up there! Siberia!"
+
+"You're a plucky woman."
+
+"Somebody had to go. Armenia or Siberia, it was all the same to me if I
+could help." She held out her hand. "Good-night, captain. Thank you for
+all your kindness to me. Ten o'clock, if it is sunshiny. You're to show me
+the shops. Oh, if I were only rich!"
+
+"And what would you do if you had riches?"
+
+"I'd buy all the silk at Kai Fook's--isn't that the name?--and roll myself
+up in it like a cocoon."
+
+The man laughed. He understood. A touch of luxury, after all these
+indescribable months of dirt and disease, rain and snow and ice, among a
+people who lived like animals, who had the intelligence of animals. When
+he spoke the officer's voice was singularly grave:
+
+"These few days have been very happy ones for me. At ten--if the sun
+shines. Good-night."
+
+The 'rickshas in a wavering line began to roll along the Bund, which was
+practically deserted. The lights shone through slanting lattices of rain.
+Twice automobiles shot past, and Jane resented them. China, the flowery
+kingdom! She was touched with a little thrill of exultation. But oh, to
+get home, home! Never again would she long for palaces and servants and
+all that. The little wooden-frame house and the garden would be paradise
+enough. The crimson ramblers, the hollyhocks, the bachelor's-buttons, and
+the peonies, the twisted apple tree that never bore more than enough for
+one pie! Her throat tightened.
+
+She hadn't heard from the mother in two months, but there would be mail at
+Hong-Kong. Letters and papers from home! Soon she would be in the sitting
+room recounting her experiences; and the little mother would listen
+politely, even doubtfully, but very glad to have her back. How odd it was!
+In the mother the spirit of adventure never reached beyond the garden
+gate, while in the daughter it had always been keen for the far places.
+And in her first adventure beyond the gate, how outrageously she had been
+cheated! She had stepped out of drab and dreary routine only to enter a
+drabber and drearier one.
+
+What a dear boy this American officer was! He seemed to have been
+everywhere, up and down the world. He had hunted the white orchid of
+Borneo; he had gone pearl hunting in the South Seas; and he knew Monte
+Carlo, London, Paris, Naples, Cairo. But he never spoke of home. She had
+cleverly led up to it many times in the past month, but always he had
+unembarrassedly switched the conversation into another channel.
+
+This puzzled her deeply. From the other Americans she never heard of
+anything but home, and they were all mad to get there. Yet Captain
+Dennison maintained absolute silence on that topic. Clean shaven, bronzed,
+tall, and solidly built, clear-eyed, not exactly handsome but
+engaging--what lay back of the man's peculiar reticence? Being a daughter
+of Eve, the mystery intrigued her profoundly.
+
+Had he been a professional sailor prior to the war? It seemed to her if
+that had been the case he would have enlisted in the Navy. He talked like
+a man who had spent many years on the water; but in labour or in pleasure,
+he made it most difficult for her to tell. Of his people, of his past, not
+Bluebeard's closet was more firmly shut. Still with a little smile she
+recalled that eventually a woman had opened that closet door, and hadn't
+had her head cut off, either.
+
+He was poor like herself. That much was established. For he had said
+frankly that when he received his discharge from the Army he would have to
+dig up a job to get a meal ticket.
+
+Dear, dear! Would she ever see a continuous stretch of sunshine again? How
+this rain tore into things! Shanghai! Wouldn't it be fun to have a
+thousand dollars to fling away on the shops? She wanted jade beads,
+silks--not the quality the Chinese made for export, but that heavy, shiver
+stuff that was as strong and shielding as wool--ivory carvings, little
+bronze Buddhas with prayer scrolls inside of them, embroidered jackets.
+But why go on? She had less than a hundred, and she would have to carry
+home gimcracks instead of curios.
+
+They were bobbing over a bridge now, and a little way beyond she saw the
+lighted windows of the great caravansary, the Astor House. It smacked of
+old New York, where in a few weeks she would be stepping back into the
+dull routine of hospital work.
+
+She paid the ricksha boy and ran into the lobby, stamping her feet and
+shaking the umbrella. The slicker was an overhead affair, and she had to
+take off her hat to get free. This act tumbled her hair about
+considerably, and Jane Norman's hair was her glory. It was the tint of the
+copper beech, thick, finespun, with intermittent twists that gave it a
+wavy effect.
+
+Jane was not beautiful; that is, her face was not--it was comely. It was
+her hair that turned male heads. It was then men took note of her body.
+She was magnificently healthy, and true health is a magnet as powerful as
+that of the true pole. It drew toward her men and women and children. Her
+eyes were gray and serious; her teeth were white and sound. She was
+twenty-four.
+
+There was, besides her hair, another thing that was beautiful--her voice.
+It answered like the G string of an old Strad to every emotion. One could
+tell instantly when she was merry or sad or serious or angry. She could
+not hide her emotions any more than she could hide her hair. As a war
+nurse she had been adored by the wounded men and fought over by the
+hospital commandants. But few men had dared make love to her. She had that
+peculiar gift of drawing and repelling without consciousness.
+
+As the Chinese boy got her things together Jane espied the bookstall.
+American newspapers and American magazines! She packed four or five of
+each under her arm, nodded to the boy, and followed the manager to the
+lift! She hoped the lights would hang so that she could lie in bed and
+read. Her brain was thirsty for a bit of romance.
+
+Humming, she unpacked. She had brought one evening gown, hoping she might
+have a chance to wear it before it fell apart from disuse. She shook out
+the wrinkles and hung the gown in the closet. Lavender! She raised a fold
+of the gown and breathed in rapturously that homy perfume. She sighed.
+Perhaps she would have to lay away all her dreams in lavender.
+
+A little later she sat before the dressing mirror, combing her hair. How
+it happened she never could tell, but she heard a crash upon the wood
+floor, and discovered her hand mirror shattered into a thousand
+splinters.
+
+Seven years' bad luck! She laughed. Fate had blundered. The mirror had
+fallen seven years too late.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Outside the bar where the Whangpoo empties into the Yang-tse lay the
+thousand-ton yacht _Wanderer II_, out of New York. She was a sea whippet,
+and prior to the war her bowsprit had nosed into all the famed harbours of
+the seven seas. For nearly three years she had been in the auxiliary fleet
+of the United States Navy. She was still in war paint, owner's choice, but
+all naval markings had been obliterated. Her deck was flush. The house,
+pierced by the main companionway, was divided into three sections--a small
+lounging room, a wireless room, and the captain's cabin, over which stood
+the bridge and chart house. The single funnel rose between the captain's
+cabin and the wireless room, and had the rakish tilt of the racer.
+_Wanderer II_ could upon occasion hit it up round twenty-one knots, for
+all her fifteen years. There was plenty of deck room fore and aft.
+
+The crew's quarters were up in the forepeak. A passage-way divided the
+cook's galley and the dry stores, then came the dining salon. The main
+salon, with a fine library, came next. The port side of this salon was
+cut off into the owner's cabin. The main companionway dropped into the
+salon, a passage each side giving into the guest cabins. But rarely these
+days were there any guests on _Wanderer II_.
+
+The rain slashed her deck, drummed on the boat canvas, and blurred the
+ports. The deck house shed webby sheets of water, now to port, now to
+starboard. The ladder was down, and a reflector over the platform
+advertised the fact that either the owner had gone into Shanghai or was
+expecting a visitor.
+
+All about were rocking lights, yellow and green and red, from warships,
+tramps, passenger ships, freighters, barges, junks. The water was streaked
+with shaking lances of colour.
+
+In the salon, under a reading lamp, sat a man whose iron-gray hair was
+patched with cowlicks. Combs and brushes produced no results, so the owner
+had had it clipped to a short pompadour. It was the skull of a fighting
+man, for all that frontally it was marked by a high intellectuality. This
+sort of head generally gives the possessor yachts like _Wanderer II_,
+tremendous bank accounts; the type that will always possess these things,
+despite the howl of the proletariat.
+
+The face was sunburned. There was some loose flesh under the jaws. The
+nose was thick and pudgy, wide in the nostrils, like a lion's. The
+predatory are not invariably hawk-nosed. The eyes were blue--in repose, a
+warm blue--and there were feathery wrinkles at the corners which suggested
+that the toll-taker could laugh occasionally. The lips were straight and
+thin, the chin square--stubborn rather than relentless. A lonely man who
+was rarely lonesome.
+
+His body was big. One has to be keen physically as well as mentally to
+make a real success of anything. His score might have tallied sixty. He
+was at the peak of life, but hanging there, you might say. To-morrow
+Anthony Cleigh might begin the quick downward journey.
+
+He had made his money in mines, rails, ships; and now he was spending it
+prodigally. Prodigally, yes, but with caution and foresight. There was
+always a ready market for what he bought. If he paid a hundred thousand
+for a Rembrandt, rest assured he knew where he could dispose of it for the
+same amount. Cleigh was a collector by instinct. With him it was no fad;
+it was a passion, sometimes absurd. This artistic love of rare and
+beautiful creations was innate, not acquired. Dealers had long since
+learned their lesson, and no more sought to impose upon him.
+
+He was not always scrupulous. In the dollar war he had been sternly
+honest, harshly just. In pursuit of objects of art he argued with his
+conscience that he was not injuring the future of widows and orphans when
+he bought some purloined masterpiece. Without being in the least aware of
+it, he was now the victim, not the master, of the passion. He would have
+purchased Raphael's Adoration of the Magi had some rogue been able to
+steal it from the Vatican.
+
+Hanging from the ceiling and almost touching the floor, forward between
+the entrance to the dining salon and the owner's cabin, was a rug eight
+and a half by six. It was the first object that struck your eye as you
+came down the companionway. It was an animal rug, a museum piece; rubies
+and sapphires and emeralds and topaz melted into wool. It was under glass
+to fend off the sea damp. Fit to hang beside the Ardebil Carpet.
+
+You never saw the rug except in this salon. Cleigh dared not hang it in
+his gallery at home in New York for the particular reason that the British
+Government, urged by the Viceroy of India, had been hunting high and low
+for the rug since 1911, when it had been the rightful property of a
+certain influential maharaja whose _Ai, ai!_ had reverberated from Hind to
+Albion over the loss. Thus it will not be difficult to understand why
+Cleigh was lonely rather than lonesome.
+
+Queer lot. To be a true collector is to be as the opium eater: you keep
+getting in deeper and deeper, careless that the way back closes. After a
+while you cannot feel any kick in the stuff you find in the open marts, so
+you step outside the pale, where they sell the unadulterated. That's the
+true, dyed-in-the-wool collector. He no longer acquires a Vandyke merely
+to show to his friends; that he possesses it for his own delectation is
+enough. He becomes brother to Gaspard, miser; and like Gaspard he cannot
+be fooled by spurious gold.
+
+Over the top of the rug was a curtain of waxed sailcloth that could be
+dropped by the pull of a cord, and it was generally dropped whenever
+Cleigh made port.
+
+It was vaguely known that Cleigh possessed the maharaja's treasure.
+Millionaire collectors, agents, and famous salesroom auctioneers had heard
+indirectly; but they kept the information to themselves--not from any
+kindly spirit, however. Never a one of them but hoped some day he might
+lay hands upon the rug and dispose of it to some other madman. A rug
+valued at seventy thousand dollars was worth a high adventure. Cleigh,
+however, with cynical humour courted the danger.
+
+There is a race of hardy dare-devils--super-thieves--of which the world
+hears little and knows little. These adventurers have actually robbed the
+Louvre, the Vatican, the Pitti Gallery, the palaces of kings and sultans.
+It was not so long ago that La Gioconda--Mona Lisa--was stolen from the
+Louvre. Cleigh had come from New York, thousands of miles, for the express
+purpose of meeting one of these amazing rogues--a rogue who, had he found
+a rich wallet on the pavements, would have moved heaven and earth to find
+the owner, but who would have stolen the Pope's throne had it been left
+about carelessly.
+
+It is rather difficult to analyze the moral status of such a man, or that
+of the man ready to deal with him.
+
+Cleigh lowered his book and assumed a listening attitude. Above the patter
+of the rain he heard the putt-putt of a motor launch. He laid the book on
+the table and reached for a black cigar, which he lit and began to puff
+quickly. Louder grew the panting of the motor. It stopped abruptly. Cleigh
+heard a call or two, then the creaking of the ladder. Two minutes later a
+man limped into the salon. He tossed his sou'wester to the floor and
+followed it with the smelly oilskin.
+
+"Hello, Cleigh! Devil of a night!"
+
+"Have a peg?" asked Cleigh.
+
+"Never touch the stuff."
+
+"That's so; I had forgotten."
+
+Cleigh never looked upon this man's face without recalling del Sarto's
+John the Baptist--supposing John had reached forty by the way of reckless
+passions. The extraordinary beauty was still there, but as though behind a
+blurred pane of glass.
+
+"Well?" said Cleigh, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.
+
+"There's the devil to pay--all in a half hour."
+
+"You haven't got it?" Cleigh blazed out.
+
+"Morrissy--one of the squarest chaps in the world--ran amuck the last
+minute. Tried to double-cross me, and in the rough-and-tumble that
+followed he was more or less banged up. We hurried him to a hospital,
+where he lies unconscious."
+
+"But the beads!"
+
+"Either he dropped them in the gutter, or they repose on the floor of a
+Chinese shop in Woosung Road. I'll be there bright and early--never you
+fear. Don't know what got into Morrissy. Of course I'll look him up in the
+morning."
+
+"Thousands of miles--to hear a yarn like this!"
+
+"Cleigh, we've done business for nearly twenty years. You can't point out
+an instance where I ever broke my word."
+
+"I know," grumbled Cleigh. "But I've gone to all this trouble, getting a
+crew and all that. And now you tell me you've let the beads slip through
+your fingers!"
+
+"Pshaw! You'd have put the yacht into commission if you'd never heard from
+me. You were crazy to get to sea again. Any trouble picking up the crew?"
+
+"No. But only four of the old crew--Captain Newton, of course, and Chief
+Engineer Svenson, Donaldson, and Morley. Still, it's the best crew I ever
+had: young fellows off warships and transports, looking for comfortable
+berths and a little adventure that won't entail hunting periscopes."
+
+"Plenty of coal?"
+
+"Trust me for that. Four hundred tons in Manila, and I shan't need more
+than a bucketful."
+
+"Who drew the plans for this yacht?" asked Cunningham, with a roving
+glance.
+
+"I did."
+
+"Humph! Why didn't you leave the job to someone who knew how? It's a
+series of labyrinths on this deck."
+
+"I wanted a big main salon, even if I had to sacrifice some of the rest of
+the space. Besides, it keeps the crew out of sight."
+
+"And I should say out of touch, too."
+
+"I'm quite satisfied," replied Cleigh, grumpily.
+
+"Cleigh, I'm through." Cunningham spread his hands.
+
+"What are you through with?"
+
+"Through with this game. I'm going in for a little sport. This string of
+beads was the wind-up. But don't worry. They'll be on board here
+to-morrow. You brought the gold?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The visitor paused in front of the rug. He sighed audibly.
+
+"Scheherazade's twinkling little feet! Lord, but that rug is a wonder!
+Cleigh, I've been offered eighty thousand for it."
+
+"What's that?" Cleigh barked, half out of his chair.
+
+"Eighty thousand by Eisenfeldt. I don't know what crazy fool he's dealing
+for, but he offers me eighty thousand."
+
+Cleigh got up and pressed a wall button. Presently a man stepped into the
+salon from the starboard passage. He was lank, with a lean, wind-bitten
+face and a hard blue eye.
+
+"Dodge," announced Cleigh, smiling, "this is Mr. Cunningham. I want you to
+remember him."
+
+Dodge agreed with a curt nod.
+
+"If ever you see him in this cabin when I'm absent, you know what to do."
+
+"Yes, sir," replied Dodge, with a wintry smile.
+
+Cunningham laughed.
+
+"So you carry a Texas gunman round with you now? After all, why not? You
+never can tell. But don't worry, Cleigh. If ever I make up my mind to
+accept Eisenfeldt's offer, I'll lift the yacht first."
+
+Cleigh laughed amusedly.
+
+"How would you go about to steal a yacht like this?"
+
+"That's telling. Now I've got to get back to town. My advice for you is to
+come in to-morrow and put up at the Astor, where I can get in touch with
+you easily."
+
+"Agreed. That's all, Dodge."
+
+The Texan departed, and Cunningham burst into laughter again.
+
+"You're an interesting man, Cleigh. On my word, you do need a
+guardian--gallivanting round the world with all these treasures. Queer
+what things we do when we try to forget. Is there any desperate plunge we
+wouldn't take if we thought we could leave the Old Man of the Sea behind?
+You think you're forgetting when you fly across half the world for a
+string of glass beads. I think I'm forgetting when I risk my neck getting
+hold of some half-forgotten Rembrandt. But there it is, always at our
+shoulder when we turn. One of the richest men in the world! Doesn't that
+tingle you when you hear people whisper it as you pass? Just as I tingle
+when some woman gasps, 'What a beautiful face!' We both have our withered
+leg--only yours is invisible."
+
+The mockery on the face and the irony on the tongue of the man disturbed
+Cleigh. Supposing the rogue had his eye on that rug? To what lengths might
+he not go to possess it? And he had the infernal ingenuity of his master,
+Beelzebub. Or was he just trying Anthony Cleigh's nerves to see whether
+they were sound or raw?
+
+"But the beads!" he said.
+
+"I'm sorry. Simply Morrissy ran amuck."
+
+"I am willing to pay half as much again."
+
+"You leave that to me--at the original price. No hold-up. Prices fixed, as
+the French say. Those beads will be on board here to-morrow. But why the
+devil do you carry that rug abroad?"
+
+"To look at."
+
+"Mad as a hatter!" Cunningham picked up his oilskin and sou'wester. "Hang
+it, Cleigh, I've a notion to have a try at that rug just for the sport of
+it!"
+
+"If you want to bump into Dodge," replied the millionaire, dryly, "try
+it."
+
+"Oh, it will be the whole thing--the yacht--when I start action! Devil
+take the weather!"
+
+"How the deuce did the beads happen to turn up here in Shanghai?"
+
+"Morrissy brought them east from Naples. That's why his work to-night
+puzzles me. All those weeks to play the crook in, and then to make a play
+for it when he knew he could not put it over! Brain storm--and when he
+comes to he'll probably be sorry. Well, keep your eye on the yacht."
+Cunningham shouldered into his oilskin. "To-morrow at the Astor, between
+three and five. By George, what a ripping idea--to steal the yacht! I'm
+mad as a hatter, too. Good-night, Cleigh." And laughing, Cunningham went
+twisting up the companionway, into the rain and the dark.
+
+Cleigh stood perfectly still until the laughter became an echo and the
+echo a memory.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Morning and winnowed skies; China awake. The great black-and-gold banners
+were again fluttering in Nanking Road. Mongolian ponies clattered about,
+automobiles rumbled, 'rickshas jogged. Venders were everywhere, many with
+hot rice and bean curd. Street cleaners in bright-red cotton jackets were
+busy with the mud puddles. The river swarmed with sampans and barges and
+launches. There was only one lifeless thing in all Shanghai that
+morning--the German Club.
+
+In the city hospital the man Morrissy, his head in bandages, smiled feebly
+into Cunningham's face.
+
+"Were you mad to try a game like that? What the devil possessed you? Three
+to one, and never a ghost of a chance. You never blew up like this before.
+What's the answer?"
+
+"Just struck me, Dick--one of those impulses you can't help. I'm sorry.
+Ought to have known I'd have no chance, and you'd have been justified in
+croaking me. Just as I was in the act of handing them over to you the idea
+came to bolt. All that dough would keep me comfortably the rest of my
+life."
+
+"What happened to them?"
+
+"Don't know. After that biff on the coco I only wanted some place to crawl
+into. I had them in my hand when I started to run. Sorry."
+
+"Have they quizzed you?"
+
+"Yes, but I made out I couldn't talk. What's the dope?"
+
+"You were in a rough-and-tumble down the Chinese Bund, and we got you
+away. Play up to that."
+
+"All right. But, gee! I won't be able to go with you."
+
+"If we have any luck, I'll see you get a share."
+
+"That's white. You were always a white man, Dick. I feel like a skunk. I
+knew I couldn't put it over, with the three of you at my elbow. What the
+devil got into me?"
+
+"Any funds?"
+
+"Enough to get me down to Singapore. Where do you want me to hang out?"
+
+"Suit yourself. You're out of this play--and it's my last."
+
+"You're quitting the big game?"
+
+"Yes. What's left of my schedule I'm going to run out on my own. So we
+probably won't meet again for a long time, Morrissy. Here's a couple of
+hundred to add to your store. If we find the beads I'll send your share
+wherever you say."
+
+"Might as well be Naples. They're off me in the States."
+
+"All right. Cook's or the American Express?"
+
+"Address me the Milan direct."
+
+Cunningham nodded.
+
+"Well, good-bye."
+
+"Good-bye, Dick. I'm sorry I gummed it up."
+
+"I thought you'd be. Good-bye."
+
+But as Cunningham passed from sight, the man on the cot smiled ironically
+at the sun-splashed ceiling. A narrow squeak, but he had come through.
+
+Cunningham, grateful for the sunshine, limped off toward Woosung Road,
+grotesquely but incredibly fast for a man with only one sound leg. He
+never used a cane, having the odd fancy that a stick would only emphasize
+his affliction. He might have taken a 'ricksha this morning, but he never
+thought of it until he had crossed Soochow Creek.
+
+But Ling Foo was not in his shop and the door was locked. Cunningham
+explored the muddy gutters all the way from Ling Foo's to Moy's tea house,
+where the meeting had taken place. He found nothing, and went into Moy's
+to wait. Ling Foo would have to pass the restaurant. A boy who knew the
+merchant stood outside to watch.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jane woke at nine. The brightness of the window shade told her that the
+sun was clear. She sprang out of bed, a trill of happiness in her throat.
+The shops! Oh, the beautiful, beautiful shops!
+
+"China, China, China!" she sang.
+
+She threw up the shade and squinted for a moment. The sun in the heavens
+and the reflection on the Whangpoo were blinding. The sampans made her
+think of ants, darting, scuttling, wheeling.
+
+"Oh, the beautiful shops!"
+
+Of all the things in the world--this side of the world--worth having,
+nothing else seemed comparable to jade--a jade necklace. Not the stone
+that looked like dull marble with a greenish pallor--no. She wanted the
+deep apple-green jade, the royal, translucent stone. And she knew that she
+had as much chance of possessing the real article as she had of taking her
+pick of the scattered Romanoff jewels.
+
+Jane held to the belief that when you wished for something you couldn't
+have it was niggardly not to wish magnificently.
+
+She dressed hurriedly, hastened through her breakfast of tea and toast and
+jam, and was about to sally forth upon the delectable adventure, when
+there came a gentle knock on the door. She opened it, rather expecting a
+boy to announce that Captain Dennison was below. Outside stood a Chinaman
+in a black skirt and a jacket of blue brocade. He was smiling and
+kotowing.
+
+"Would the lady like to see some things?"
+
+"Come in," said Jane, readily.
+
+Ling Foo deposited his pack on the floor and opened it. He had heard that
+a single woman had come in the night before and, shrewd merchant that he
+was, he had wasted no time.
+
+"Furs!" cried Jane, reaching down for the Manchurian sable. She blew aside
+the top fur and discovered the smoky down beneath. She rubbed her cheek
+against it ecstatically. She wondered what devil's lure there was about
+furs and precious stones that made women give up all the world for them.
+Was that madness hidden away in her somewhere?
+
+"How much?"
+
+She knew beforehand that the answer would render the question utterly
+futile.
+
+"A hundred Mex," said Ling Foo. "Very cheap."
+
+"A hundred Mex?" That would be nearly fifty dollars in American money.
+With a sigh she dropped the fur. "Too much for me. How much is that
+Chinese jacket?"
+
+"Twenty Mex."
+
+Jane carried it over to the window.
+
+"I will give you fifteen for it."
+
+"All right."
+
+Ling Foo was willing to forego his usual hundred per cent. profit in order
+to start the day with a sale. Then he spread out the grass linen.
+
+Jane went into raptures over some of the designs, but in the end she shook
+her head. She wanted something from Shanghai, something from Hong-Kong,
+something from Yokohama. If she followed her inclination she would go
+broke here and now.
+
+"Have you any jade? Understand, I'm not buying. Just want to see some."
+
+"No, lady; but I can bring you some this afternoon."
+
+"I warn you, I'm not buying."
+
+"I shall be glad to show the lady. What time shall I call?"
+
+"Oh, about tea time."
+
+Ling Foo reached inside his jacket and produced a string of cut-glass
+beads.
+
+"How pretty! What are they?"
+
+"Glass."
+
+Jane hooked the string round her neck and viewed the result in the
+mirror. The sunshine, striking the facets, set fire to the beads. They
+were really lovely. She took a sudden fancy to them.
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Four Mex." It was magnanimous of Ling Foo.
+
+"I'll take them." They were real, anyhow. "Bring your jade at tea time and
+call for Miss Norman. I can't give you any more time."
+
+"Yes, lady."
+
+Ling Foo bundled up his assorted merchandise and trotted away infinitely
+relieved. The whole affair was off his hands. In no wise could the police
+bother him now. He knew nothing; he would know nothing until he met his
+honourable ancestors.
+
+From ten until three Jane, under the guidance of Captain Dennison, stormed
+the shops on the Bunds and Nanking Road; but in returning to the Astor
+House she realized with dismay that she had expended the major portion of
+her ammunition in this offensive. She doubted if she would have enough to
+buy a kimono in Japan. It was dreadful to be poor and to have a taste for
+luxury and an eye for beauty.
+
+"Captain," she said as they sat down to tea, "I'm going to ask one more
+favour."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"A Chinaman is coming with some jade. If I'm alone with him I'm afraid
+I'll buy something, and I really can't spend another penny in Shanghai."
+
+"I see. Want me to shoo him off in case his persistence is too much for
+you."
+
+"Exactly. It's very nice of you."
+
+"Greatest pleasure in the world. I wish the job was permanent--shooing 'em
+away from you."
+
+She sent him a quick sidelong glance, but he was smiling. Still, there was
+something in the tone that quickened her pulse. All nonsense, of course;
+both of them stony, as the Britishers put it; both of them returning to
+the States for bread and butter.
+
+"Why didn't you put up here?" she asked. "There is plenty of room."
+
+"Well, I thought perhaps it would be better if I stayed at the Palace."
+
+"Nonsense! Who cares?"
+
+"I do." And this time he did not smile.
+
+"I suppose my Chinaman will be waiting in the lobby."
+
+"Let's toddle along, then."
+
+Dennison followed her out of the tea room, his gaze focused on the back of
+her neck, and it was just possible to resist the mad inclination to bend
+and kiss the smooth, ivory-tinted skin. He was not ready to analyze the
+impulse for fear he might find how deep down the propellant was. A woman,
+young in the heart, young in the body, and old in the mind, disillusioned
+but not embittered, unafraid, resourceful, sometimes beautiful and
+sometimes plain, but always splendidly alive.
+
+Perhaps the wisest move on his part was to avoid her companionship, invent
+some excuse to return by the way of Manila, pretend he had transfer
+orders. To spend twenty-one days on the same ship with her and to keep his
+head seemed a bit too strong. Had there been something substantial
+reaching down from the future--a dependable job--he would have gone with
+her joyously. But he had not a dollar beyond his accumulated pay; that
+would melt quickly enough when he reached the States. He was thirty; he
+would have to hustle to get anywhere by the time he was forty. His only
+hope was that back in the States they were calling for men who knew how to
+manage men, and he had just been discharged--or recalled for that
+purpose--from the best school for that. But they were calling for
+specialists, too, and he was a jack of all trades and master of none.
+
+He knew something about art, something about music, something about
+languages; but he could not write. He was a fair navigator, but not fair
+enough for a paying job. He could take an automobile engine apart and
+reassemble it with skill, but any chauffeur could do that.
+
+"Hadn't we better go into the parlour?" he heard Jane asking as they
+passed out.
+
+"We'll be alone there. It will be easier for you to resist temptation, I
+suppose, if there isn't any audience. Audiences are nuisances. Men have
+killed each other because they feared the crowd might mistake common sense
+for the yellow streak."
+
+Instantly the thought leaped into the girl's mind: Supposing such an event
+lay back of this strange silence about his home and his people? She
+recalled the ruthless ferocity with which he had broken up a street fight
+between American and Japanese soldiers one afternoon in Vladivostok.
+Supposing he had killed someone? But she had to repudiate this theory. No
+officer in the United States Army could cover up anything like that.
+
+"Come to the parlour," she said to Ling Foo, who was smiling and
+kotowing.
+
+Ling Foo picked up his blackwood box. Inwardly he was not at all pleased
+at the prospect of having an outsider witness the little business
+transaction he had in mind. Obliquely he studied the bronze mask. There
+was no eagerness, no curiosity, no indifference. It struck Ling Foo that
+there was something Oriental in this officer's repose. But five hundred
+gold! Five hundred dollars in American gold--for a string of glass beads!
+
+He set the blackwood box on a stand, opened it, and spread out jade
+earrings, rings, fobs, bracelets, strings. The girl's eagerness caused
+Ling Foo to sigh with relief. It would be easy.
+
+"I warned you that I should not buy anything," said Jane, ruefully. "But
+even if I had the money I would not buy this kind of a jade necklace. I
+should want apple-green."
+
+"Ah!" said Ling Foo, shocked with delight. "Perhaps we can make a bargain.
+You have those glass beads I sold you this morning?"
+
+"Yes, I am wearing them."
+
+Jane took off her mink-fur collaret, which was sadly worn.
+
+Ling Foo's hand went into his box again. From a piece of cotton cloth he
+drew forth a necklace of apple-green jade, almost perfect.
+
+"Oh, the lovely thing!" Jane seized the necklace. "To possess something
+like this! Isn't it glorious, captain?"
+
+"Let me see it." Dennison inspected the necklace carefully. "It is
+genuine. Where did you get this?"
+
+Ling Foo shrugged.
+
+"Long ago, during the Boxer troubles, I bought it from a sailor."
+
+"Ah, probably loot from the Peking palace. How much is it worth?"
+
+Murder blazed up in Ling Foo's heart, but his face remained smilingly
+bland.
+
+"What I can get for it. But if the lady wishes I will give it to her in
+exchange for the glass beads. I had no right to sell the beads," Ling Foo
+went on with a deprecating gesture. "I thought the man who owned them
+would never claim them. But he came this noon. Something belonging to his
+ancestor--and he demands it."
+
+"Trade them? Good heavens, yes! Of all things! Here!" Jane unclasped the
+beads and thrust them toward Ling Foo's eager claw.
+
+But Dennison reached out an intervening hand.
+
+"Just a moment, Miss Norman. What's the game?" he asked of Ling Foo.
+
+Ling Foo silently cursed all this meddler's ancestors from Noah down, but
+his face expressed only mild bewilderment.
+
+"Game?"
+
+"Yes. Why didn't you offer some other bits of jade? This string is worth
+two or three hundred gold; and this is patently a string of glass beads,
+handsomely cut, but nevertheless plain glass. What's the idea?"
+
+"But I have explained!" protested Ling Foo. "The string is not mine. I
+have in honour to return it."
+
+"Yes, yes! That's all very well. You could have told this lady that and
+offered to return her money. But a jade necklace like this one! No, Miss
+Norman; my advice is to keep the beads until we learn what's going on."
+
+"But to let that jade go!" she wailed comically.
+
+"The lady may keep the jade until to-morrow. She may have the night to
+decide. This is no hurry."
+
+Ling Foo saw that he had been witless indeed. The thought of raising the
+bid of five hundred gold to a thousand or more had bemused him, blunted
+his ordinary cunning.
+
+Inwardly he cursed his stupidity. But the appearance of a witness to the
+transaction had set him off his balance. The officer had spoken shrewdly.
+The young woman would have returned the beads in exchange for the sum she
+had paid for them, and she would never have suspected--nor the officer,
+either--that the beads possessed unknown value. Still, the innocent
+covetousness, plainly visible in her eyes, told him that the game was not
+entirely played out; there was yet a dim chance. Alone, without the
+officer to sway her, she might be made to yield.
+
+"The lady may wear the beads to-night if she wishes. I will return for
+them in the morning."
+
+"But this does not explain the glass beads," said the captain.
+
+"I will bring the real owner with me in the morning," volunteered Ling
+Foo. "He sets a high value on them through sentiment. Perhaps I was
+hasty."
+
+Dennison studied the glass beads. Perhaps his suspicions were not on any
+too solid ground. Yet a string of jade beads like that in exchange!
+Something was in the air.
+
+"Well," said he, smiling at the appeal in the girl's eyes, "I don't
+suppose there will be any harm in keeping them overnight. We'll have a
+chance to talk it over."
+
+Ling Foo's plan of attack matured suddenly. He would call near midnight.
+He would somehow manage to get to her door. She would probably hand him
+the glass beads without a word of argument. Then he would play his game
+with the man who limped. He smiled inwardly as he put his wares back into
+the carved box. A thousand gold! At any rate, he would press the man into
+a corner. There was something about this affair that convinced Ling Foo
+that his noon visitor would pay high for two reasons: one, to recover the
+glass beads; the other, to keep out of the reach of the police.
+
+Ling Foo considered that he was playing his advantage honestly. He hadn't
+robbed or murdered anybody. A business deal had slipped into his hands and
+it was only logical to make the most of it. He kotowed several times on
+the way out of the parlour, conscious, however, of the searching eyes of
+the man who had balked him.
+
+"Well!" exclaimed Jane. "What in the world do you suppose is going on?"
+
+"Lord knows, but something is going on. You couldn't buy a jade necklace
+like that under five hundred in New York. This apple-green seldom runs
+deep; the colour runs in veins and patches. The bulk of the quarried stone
+has the colour and greasy look of raw pork. No; I shouldn't put it on just
+now, not until you have washed it. You never can tell. I'll get you a
+germicide at the English apothecary's. Glass beads! Humph! Hanged if I can
+make it out. Glass; Occidental, too; maybe worth five dollars in the
+States. Put it on again. It's a great world over here. You're always
+stumbling into something unique. I'm coming over to dine with you
+to-night."
+
+"Splendid!"
+
+Jane put the jade into her hand-bag, clasped the glass beads round her
+neck again, and together she and Dennison walked toward the parlour door.
+As they reached it a tall, vigorous, elderly man with a gray pompadour
+started to enter. He paused, with an upward tilt of the chin, but the tilt
+was the result of pure astonishment. Instinctively Jane turned to her
+escort. His chin was tilted, too, and his expression was a match for the
+stranger's. Later, recalling the tableau, which lasted but a moment, it
+occurred to Jane that two men, suddenly confronted by a bottomless pit,
+might have expressed their dumfounderment in exactly this fashion.
+
+In the lobby she said rather breathlessly: "You knew each other and didn't
+speak! Who is he?"
+
+The answer threw her into a hypnotic state.
+
+"My father," said Dennison, quietly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+Father and son! For a while Jane had the sensation of walking upon
+unsubstantial floors, of seeing unsubstantial objects. The encounter did
+not seem real, human. Father and son, and they had not rushed into each
+other's arms! No matter what had happened in the past, there should have
+been some human sign other than astonishment. At the very least two or
+three years had separated them. Just stared for a moment, and passed on!
+
+Hypnotism is a fact; a word or a situation will create this peculiar state
+of mind. Father and son! The phrase actually hypnotized Jane, and she
+remained in the clutch of it until hours later, which may account for the
+amazing events into which she permitted herself to be drawn. Father and
+son! Her actions were normal; her mental state was not observable; but
+inwardly she retained no clear recollection of the hours that intervened
+between this and the astonishing climax. As from a distance, she heard the
+voice of the son:
+
+"Looks rum to you, no doubt. But I can't tell you the story--at least not
+now. It's the story of a tomfool. I had no idea he was on this side. I
+haven't laid eyes on him in seven years. Dinner at seven. I'll have that
+germicide sent up to your room."
+
+The captain nodded abruptly and made off toward the entrance.
+
+Jane understood. He wanted to be alone--to catch his breath, as it were.
+At any rate, that was a human sign that something besides astonishment was
+stirring within. So she walked mechanically over to the bookstall and
+hazily glanced at the backs of the new novels, riffled the pages of a
+magazine; and to this day she cannot recall whether the clerk was a man or
+a woman, white or brown or yellow, for a hand touched her sleeve lightly,
+compelling her attention. Dennison's father stood beside her.
+
+"Pardon me, but may I ask you a question?"
+
+Jane dropped the fur collaret in her confusion. They both stooped for it,
+and collided gently; but in rising the man glimpsed the string of glass
+beads.
+
+"Thank you," said Jane, as she received the collaret. "What is it you wish
+to ask of me?"
+
+"The name of the man you were with."
+
+"Dennison; his own and yours--probably," she said with spirit, for she
+took sides in that moment, and was positive that the blame for the
+estrangement lay with the father. The level, unagitated voice irritated
+her; she resented it. He wasn't human!
+
+"My name is Cleigh--Anthony Cleigh. Thank you."
+
+Cleigh bowed politely and moved away. Behind that calm, impenetrable mask,
+however, was turmoil, kaleidoscopic, whirling too quickly for the brain to
+grasp or hold definite shapes. The boy here! And the girl with those beads
+round her throat! For the subsidence of this turmoil it was needful to
+have space; so Cleigh strode out of the lobby into the fading day, made
+his way across the bridge, and sought the Bund. He forgot all about his
+appointment with Cunningham.
+
+He lit a cigar and walked on and on, oblivious of the cries of the
+'ricksha boys, importunate beggars, the human currents that broke and
+flowed each side of him. The boy here in Shanghai! And that girl with
+those beads round her throat! It was as though his head had become a
+tom-tom in the hands of fate. The drumming made it impossible to think
+clearly. It was the springing up of the electric lights that brought him
+back to actualities. He looked at his watch.
+
+He had been tramping up and down the Bund for two solid hours.
+
+And now came, clearly defined, the idea for which he had been searching.
+He indulged in a series of rumbling chuckles. You will have heard such a
+sound in the forest when a stream suddenly takes on a merry mood--broken
+water.
+
+To return to Jane, whom Cleigh had left in a state of growing hypnosis.
+She was able to act and think intelligently, but the spell lay like a fog
+upon her will, enervating it. She grasped the situation clearly enough; it
+was tremendous. She had heard of Anthony Cleigh. Who in America had not?
+Father and son, and they had passed each other without a nod! Had she not
+been a witness to the episode, she would not have believed such a
+performance possible.
+
+Through the fog burst a clear point of light. This was not the first time
+she had encountered Anthony Cleigh. Where had she seen him before, and
+under what circumstance? Later, when she was alone, she would dig into her
+storehouse of recollection. Certainly she must bring back that episode.
+One thing, she had not known him as Anthony Cleigh.
+
+Father and son, and they had not spoken! It was this that beat
+persistently upon her mind. What dramatic event had created such a
+condition? After seven years! These two, strong mentally and physically,
+in a private war! She understood now how it was that Dennison had been
+able to tell her about Monte Carlo, the South Sea Islands, Africa, Asia;
+he had been his father's companion on the yacht.
+
+Mechanically she approached the lift. In her room all her actions were
+more or less mechanical. From the back of her mind somewhere came the
+order to her hands. She took down the evening gown. This time the subtle
+odour of lavender left her untouched. To be beautiful, to wish that she
+were beautiful! Why? Her hair was lovely; her neck and arms were lovely;
+but her nose wasn't right, her mouth was too large, and her eyes missed
+being either blue or hazel. Why did she wish to be beautiful?
+
+Always to be poor, to be hanging on the edge of things, never enough of
+this or that--genteel poverty. She had inherited the condition, as had her
+mother before her--gentlefolk who had to count the pennies. Her two
+sisters--really handsome girls--had married fairly well; but one lived in
+St. Louis and the other in Seattle, so she never saw them any more.
+
+Tired. That was it. Tired of the war for existence; tired of the following
+odours of antiseptics; tired of the white walls of hospitals, the sight of
+pain. On top of all, the level dullness of the past, the leaden horror of
+these months in Siberia. She laughed brokenly. Gardens scattered all over
+the world, and she couldn't find one--the gardens of imagination! Romance
+everywhere, and she never could touch any of it!
+
+Marriage. Outside of books, what was it save a legal contract to cook and
+bear children in exchange for food and clothes? The humdrum! She flung out
+her arms with a gesture of rage. She had been cheated, as always. She had
+come to this side of the world expecting colour, movement, adventure. The
+Orient of the novels she had read--where was it? Drab skies, drab people,
+drab work! And now to return to America, to exchange one drab job for
+another! Nadir, always nadir, never any zenith!
+
+Her bitter cogitations were interrupted by a knock on the door. She threw
+on her kimono and answered. A yellow hand thrust a bottle toward her. It
+would be the wash for the jade. She emptied the soap dish, cleaned it,
+poured in the germicide, and dropped the jade necklace into the liquid.
+She left it there while she dressed.
+
+Dennison Cleigh, returning to the States to look for a job! Nothing she
+had ever read seemed quite so fantastic. She paused in her dressing to
+stare at some inner thought which she projected upon the starred curtain
+of the night beyond her window. Supposing they had wanted to fling
+themselves into each other's arms and hadn't known how? She had had a
+glimpse or two of Dennison's fierce pride. Naturally he had inherited it
+from his father. Supposing they were just stupid rather than vengeful?
+Poor, foolish human beings!
+
+She proceeded with her toilet. Finishing that, she cleansed the jade
+necklace with soap and water, then realized that she would not be able to
+wear it, because the string would be damp. So she put on the glass beads
+instead--another move by the Madonna of the Pagan. Jane Norman was to have
+her fling.
+
+Dennison was in the lobby waiting for her. He gave a little gasp of
+delight as he beheld her. Of whom and of what did she remind him? Somebody
+he had seen, somebody he had read about? For the present it escaped him.
+Was she handsome? He could not say; but there was that in her face that
+was always pulling his glance and troubling him for the want of knowing
+why.
+
+The way she carried herself among men had always impressed him. Fearless
+and friendly, and with deep understanding, she created respect wherever
+she went. Men, toughened and coarsened by danger and hardship, somehow
+understood that Jane Norman was not the sort to make love to because one
+happened to be bored. On the other hand, there was something in her that
+called to every man, as a candle calls to the moth; only there were no
+burnt wings; there seemed to be some invisible barrier that kept the
+circling moths beyond the zone of incineration.
+
+Was there fire in her? He wondered. That copper tint in her hair suggested
+it. Magnificent! And what the deuce was the colour of her eyes? Sometimes
+there was a glint of topaz, or cornflower sapphire, gray agate; they were
+the most tantalizing eyes he had ever gazed into.
+
+"Hungry?" he greeted her.
+
+"For fourteen months!"
+
+"Do you know what?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I'd give a year of my life for a club steak and all the regular
+fixings."
+
+"That isn't fair! You've gone and spoiled my dinner."
+
+"Wishy-washy chicken! How I hate tin cans! Pancakes and maple syrup!
+What?"
+
+"Sliced tomatoes with sugar and vinegar!"
+
+"You don't mean that!"
+
+"I do! I don't care how plebeian it is. Bread and butter and sliced
+tomatoes with sugar and vinegar--better than all the ice cream that ever
+was! Childhood ambrosia! For mercy's sake, let's get in before all the
+wings are gone!"
+
+They entered the huge dining room with its pattering Chinese boys--entered
+it laughing--while all the time there was at bottom a single identical
+thought--the father.
+
+Would they see him again? Would he be here at one of the tables? Would a
+break come, or would the affair go on eternally?
+
+"I know what it is!" he cried, breaking through the spell.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Ever read 'Phra the Phoenician'?"
+
+"Why, yes. But what is what?"
+
+"For days I've been trying to place you. You're the British heroine!"
+
+She thought for a moment to recall the physical attributes of this
+heroine.
+
+"But I'm not red-headed!" she denied, indignantly.
+
+"But it is! It is the most beautiful head of hair I ever laid eyes on."
+
+"And that is the beginning and the end of me," she returned with a little
+catch in her voice.
+
+The knowledge bore down upon her that her soul was thirsty for this kind
+of talk. She did not care whether he was in earnest or not.
+
+"The beginning, but not the end of you. Your eyes are fine, too. They keep
+me wondering all the time what colour they really are."
+
+"That's very nice of you."
+
+"And the way you carry yourself!"
+
+"Good gracious!"
+
+"You look as if you had come down from Olympus and had lost the way
+back."
+
+"Captain, you're a dear! I've just been wild to have a man say foolish
+things to me." She knew that she might play with this man; that he would
+never venture across the line. "Men have said foolish things to me, but
+always when I was too busy to bother. To-night I haven't anything in this
+wide world to do but listen. Go on."
+
+He laughed, perhaps a little ruefully.
+
+"Is there any fire in you, I wonder?"
+
+"Well?"--tantalizing.
+
+"Honestly, I should like to see you in a rage. I've been watching you for
+weeks, and have found myself irritated by that perpetual calm of yours.
+That day of the riot you stood on the curb as unconcerned as though you
+had been witnessing a movie."
+
+"It is possible that it is the result of seeing so much pain and misery. I
+have been a machine too long. I want to be thrust into the middle of some
+fairy story before I die. I have never been in love, in a violent rage. I
+haven't known anything but work and an abiding discontent. Red hair----"
+
+"But it really isn't red. It's like the copper beech in the sunshine, full
+of glowing embers."
+
+"Are you a poet?"
+
+"On my word, I don't know what I am."
+
+"There is fire enough in you. The way you tossed about our boys and the
+Japs!"
+
+"In the blood. My father and I used to dress for dinner, but we always
+carried the stone axe under our coats. We were both to blame, but only a
+miracle will ever bring us together. I'm sorry I ran into him. It brings
+the old days crowding back."
+
+"I'm sorry."
+
+"Oh, I'll survive! Somewhere there's a niche for me, and sooner or later
+I'll find it."
+
+"He stopped me in the lobby after you left. Wanted to know what name you
+were using. I told him rather bluntly--and he went on. Something in his
+voice--made me want to strike him!"
+
+Dennison balanced a fork on a finger.
+
+"Funny old world, isn't it?"
+
+"Very. But I've seen him somewhere before. Perhaps in a little while it
+will come back.... What an extraordinarily handsome man!"
+
+"Where?"--with a touch of brusqueness.
+
+"Sitting at the table on your left."
+
+The captain turned. The man at the other table caught his eye, smiled, and
+rose. As he approached Jane noticed with a touch of pity that the man
+limped oddly. His left leg seemed to slue about queerly just before it
+touched the floor.
+
+"Well, well! Captain Cleigh!"
+
+Dennison accepted the proffered hand, but coldly.
+
+"On the way back to the States?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The _Wanderer_ is down the river. I suppose you'll be going home on
+her?"
+
+"My orders prevent that."
+
+"Run into the old boy?"
+
+"Naturally," with a wry smile at Jane. "Miss Norman, Mr. Cunningham. Where
+the shark is, there will be the pilot fish."
+
+The stranger turned his eyes toward Jane's. The beauty of those dark eyes
+startled her. Fire opals! They seemed to dig down into her very soul, as
+if searching for something. He bowed gravely and limped back to his
+table.
+
+"I begin to understand," was Dennison's comment.
+
+"Understand what?"
+
+"All this racket about those beads. My father and this man Cunningham in
+the same town generally has significance. It is eight years since I saw
+Cunningham. Of course I could not forget his face, but it's rather
+remarkable that he remembered mine. He is--if you tear away the
+romance--nothing more or less than a thief."
+
+"A thief?"--astonishedly.
+
+"Not the ordinary kind; something of a prince of thieves. He makes it
+possible--he and his ilk--for men like my father to establish private
+museums. And now I'm going to ask you to do me a favour. It's just a
+hunch. Hide those beads the moment you reach your room. They are yours as
+much as any one's, and they may bring you a fancy penny--if my hunch is
+worth anything. Hang that pigtail, for getting you mixed up in this! I
+don't like it."
+
+Jane's hand went slowly to her throat; and even as her fingers touched the
+beads, now warm from contact, she became aware of something electrical
+which drew her eyes compellingly toward the man with the face of Ganymede
+and the limp of Vulcan. Four times she fought in vain, during dinner, that
+drawing, burning glance--and it troubled her. Never before had a man's eye
+forced hers in this indescribable fashion. It was almost as if the man had
+said, "Look at me! Look at me!"
+
+After coffee she decided to retire, and bade Dennison good-night. Once in
+her room she laid the beads on the dresser and sat down by the window to
+recast the remarkable ending of this day. From the stars to the room, from
+the room to the stars, her glance roved uneasily. Had she fallen upon an
+adventure? Was Dennison's theory correct regarding the beads? She rose and
+went to the dresser, inspecting the beads carefully. Positively glass!
+That Anthony Cleigh should be seeking a string of glass beads seemed
+arrant nonsense.
+
+She hung the beads on her throat and viewed the result in the mirror. It
+was then that her eye met a golden glint. She turned to see what had
+caused it, and was astonished to discover on the floor near the molding
+that poor Chinaman's brass hand warmer. She picked it up and turned back
+the jigsawed lid. The receptacle was filled with the ash of punk and
+charcoal.
+
+There came a knock on the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+Now, then, the further adventures of Ling Foo of Woosung Road. He was an
+honest Chinaman. He would beat you down if he were buying, or he would
+overcharge you if he were selling. There was nothing dishonest in this; it
+was legitimate business. He was only shrewd, not crooked. But on this day
+he came into contact with a situation that tried his soul, and tricked him
+into overplaying his hand.
+
+That morning he had returned to his shop in a contented frame of mind. He
+stood clear of the tragedy of the night before. That had never happened;
+he had dreamed it. Of course he would be wondering whether or not the man
+had died.
+
+When Ling Foo went forth with his business in his pack he always closed
+the shop. Here in upper Woosung Road it would not have paid him to hire a
+clerk. His wife, obedient creature though she was, spoke almost no
+pidgin--business--English; and besides that, she was a poor bargainer.
+
+It was hard by noon when he let himself into the shop. The first object he
+sought was his metal pipe. Two puffs, and the craving was satisfied. He
+took up his counting rack and slithered the buttons back and forth. He had
+made three sales at the Astor and two at the Palace, which was fair
+business, considering the times.
+
+A shadow fell across the till top. Ling Foo raised his slanted eyes. His
+face was like a graven Buddha's, but there was a crackling in his ears as
+of many fire-crackers. There he stood--the man with the sluing walk! Ling
+Foo still wore a queue, so his hair could not very well stand on end.
+
+"You speak English."
+
+It was not a question; it was a statement.
+
+Ling Foo shrugged.
+
+"Can do."
+
+"Cut out the pidgin. Your neighbour says you speak English fluently. At
+Moy's tea-house restaurant they say that you lived in California for
+several years."
+
+"Twelve," said Ling Foo with a certain dry humour.
+
+"Why didn't you admit me last night?"
+
+"Shop closed."
+
+"Where is it?"
+
+"Where is what?" asked the merchant.
+
+"The string of glass beads you found on the floor last night."
+
+A sense of disaster rolled over the Oriental. Had he been overhasty in
+ridding himself of the beads? Patience! Wait a bit! Let the stranger open
+the door to the mystery.
+
+"Glass beads?" he repeated, ruminatively.
+
+"I will give you ten gold for them."
+
+Ha! Now they were getting somewhere. Ten gold! Then those devil beads had
+some worth outside a jeweller's computations? Ling Foo smiled and spread
+his yellow hands.
+
+"I haven't them."
+
+"Where are they?"
+
+The Oriental loaded his pipe and fired it.
+
+"Where is the man who stumbled in here last night?" he countered.
+
+"His body is probably in the Yang-tse by now," returned Cunningham,
+grimly.
+
+He knew his Oriental. He would have to frighten this Chinaman badly, or
+engage his cupidity to a point where resistance would be futile.
+
+There was a devil brooding over his head. Ling Foo felt it strangely. His
+charms were in the far room. He would have to fend off the devil without
+material aid, and that was generally a hopeless job. With that twist of
+Oriental thought which will never be understood by the Occidental, Ling
+Foo laid down his campaign.
+
+"I found it, true. But I sold it this morning."
+
+"For how much?"
+
+"Four Mex."
+
+Cunningham laughed. It was actually honest laughter, provoked by a lively
+sense of humour.
+
+"To whom did you sell it, and where can I find the buyer?"
+
+Ling Foo picked up the laughter, as it were, and gave his individual quirk
+to it.
+
+"I see," said Cunningham, gravely.
+
+"So?"
+
+"Get that necklace back for me and I will give you a hundred gold."
+
+"Five hundred."
+
+"You saw what happened last night."
+
+"Oh, you will not beat in my head," Ling Foo declared, easily. "What is
+there about this string of beads that makes it worth a hundred gold--and
+life worth nothing?"
+
+"Very well," said Cunningham, resignedly. "I am a secret agent of the
+British Government. That string of glass beads is the key to a code
+relating to the uprisings in India. The loss of it will cost a great deal
+of money and time. Bring it back here this afternoon, and I will pay down
+five hundred gold."
+
+"I agree," replied Ling Foo, tossing his pipe into the alcove. "But no one
+must follow me. I do not trust you. There is nothing to prevent you from
+robbing me in the street and refusing to pay me. And where will you get
+five hundred gold? Gold has vanished. Even the leaf has all but
+disappeared."
+
+Cunningham dipped his hand into a pocket, and magically a dozen double
+eagles rolled and vibrated upon the counter, sending into Ling Foo's ears
+that music so peculiar to gold. Many days had gone by since he had set his
+gaze upon the yellow metal. His hand reached down--only to feel--but not
+so quickly as the white hand, which scooped up the coin trickily, with the
+skill of a prestidigitator.
+
+"Five hundred gold, then. But are you sure you can get the beads back?"
+
+Ling Foo smiled.
+
+"I have a way. I will meet you in the lobby of the Astor House at five";
+and he bowed with Oriental courtesy.
+
+"Agreed. All aboveboard, remember, or you will feel the iron hand of the
+British Government."
+
+Ling Foo doubted that, but he kept this doubt to himself.
+
+"I warn you, I shall go armed. You will bring the gold to the Astor House.
+If I see you after I depart----"
+
+"Lord love you, once that code key is in my hands you can go to heaven or
+the devil, as you please! We live in rough times, Ling Foo."
+
+"So we do. There is a stain on the floor, about where you stand. It is the
+blood of a white man."
+
+"What would you, when a comrade attempts to deceive you?"
+
+"At five in the lobby of the Astor House. Good day," concluded Ling Foo,
+fingering the buttons on his counting rack.
+
+Cunningham limped out into the cold sunshine. Ling Foo shook his head. So
+like a boy's, that face! He shuddered slightly. He knew that a savage
+devil lay ready behind that handsome mask--he had seen it last night. But
+five hundred gold--for a string of glass beads!
+
+Ling Foo was an honest man. He would pay you cash for cash in a bargain.
+If he overcharged you that was your fault, but he never sold you
+imitations on the basis that you would not know the difference. If he sold
+you a Ming jar--for twice what it was worth in the great marts--experts
+would tell you that it was Ming. He had some jade of superior quality--the
+translucent deep apple-green. He never carried it about; he never even
+spoke of it unless he was sure that the prospective customer was wealthy.
+
+His safe was in a corner of his workshop. An American yegg would have
+laughed at it, opened it as easily as a ripe peach; but in this district
+it was absolute security. Ling Foo was obliged to keep a safe, for often
+he had valuable pearls to take care of, sometimes to put new vigour in
+dying lustre, sometimes to peel a pearl on the chance that under the dull
+skin lay the gem.
+
+He trotted to the front door and locked it; then he trotted into his
+workshop, planning. If the glass beads were worth five hundred, wasn't it
+likely they would be worth a thousand? If this man who limped had stuck to
+the hundred Ling Foo knew that he would have surrendered eventually. But
+the ease with which the stranger made the jump from one to five convinced
+Ling Foo that there could be no harm in boosting five to ten. If there was
+a taint of crookedness anywhere, that would be on the other side. Ling Foo
+knew where the beads were, and he would transfer them for one thousand
+gold. Smart business, nothing more than that. He had the whip hand.
+
+Out of his safe he took a blackwood box, beautifully carved, Cantonese.
+Headbands, earrings, rings, charms, necklaces, tomb ornaments, some of
+them royal, all of them nearly as ancient as the hills of Kwanlun, from
+which most of them had been quarried--jade. He trickled them from palm to
+palm and one by one returned the objects to the box. In the end he
+retained two strings of beads so alike that it was difficult to discern
+any difference. One was Kwanlun jade, royal loot; the other was a copy in
+Nanshan stone. The first was priceless, worth what any fool collector was
+ready to pay; the copy was worth perhaps a hundred gold. Held to the
+light, there was a subtle difference; but only an expert could have told
+you what this difference was. The royal jade did not catch the light so
+strongly as the copy; the touch of human warmth had slightly dulled the
+stone.
+
+Ling Foo transferred the copy to a purse he wore attached to his belt
+under the blue jacket. The young woman would never be able to resist the
+jade. She would return the glass instantly. A thousand gold, less the cost
+of the jade! Good business!
+
+But for once his Oriental astuteness overreached, as has been seen. And to
+add to his discomfiture, he never again saw the copy of the Kwanlun,
+representing the virtue of the favourite wife.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I am an honest man," he said. "The tombs of my ancestors are not
+neglected. When I say I could not get it I speak the truth. But I believe
+I can get it later."
+
+"How?" asked Cunningham. They were in the office, or bureau, of the Astor
+House, which the manager had turned over to them for the moment.
+"Remember, the arm of the British Government is long."
+
+Ling Foo shrugged.
+
+"Being an honest man, I do not fear. She would have given it to me but for
+that officer. He knew something about jade."
+
+Cunningham nodded.
+
+"Conceivably he would." He jingled the gold in his pocket. "How do you
+purpose to get the beads?"
+
+"Go to the lady's room late. I left the jade with her. Alone, she will not
+resist. I saw it in her eyes. But it will be difficult."
+
+"I see. For you to get into the hotel late. I'll arrange that with the
+manager. You will be coming to my room. What floor is her room on?"
+
+"The third."
+
+"The same as mine. That falls nicely. Return then at half after ten. You
+will come to my room for the gold."
+
+Ling Foo saw his thousand shrink to the original five hundred, but there
+was no help for it. At half after ten he knocked on the panel of Jane's
+door and waited. He knocked again; still the summons was not answered. The
+third assault was emphatic. Ling Foo heard footsteps, but behind him. He
+turned. The meddling young officer was striding toward him.
+
+"What are you doing here?" Dennison demanded.
+
+His own appearance in the corridor at this hour might have been
+subjectable to inquiry. He had left Jane at nine. He had seen her to the
+lift. Perhaps he had walked the Bund for an hour or two, but worriedly.
+The thought of the arrival in Shanghai of his father and the rogue
+Cunningham convinced him that some queer game was afoot, and that it
+hinged somehow upon those beads.
+
+There was no sighing in regard to his father, for the past that was. An
+astonishing but purely accidental meeting; to-morrow each would go his
+separate way again. All that was a closed page. He had long ago readjusted
+his outlook on the basis that reconciliation was hopeless.
+
+A sudden impulse spun him on his heel, and he hurried back to the Astor.
+The hour did not matter, or the possibility that Jane might be abed. He
+would ask permission to become the temporary custodian of the beads. What
+were they, to have brought his father across the Pacific--if indeed they
+had? Anyhow, he would end his own anxiety in regard to Jane by assuming
+the risks, if any, himself.
+
+No one questioned him; his uniform was a passport that required no vise.
+
+Ling Foo eyed him blandly.
+
+"I am leaving for the province in the morning, so I had to come for my
+jade to-night. But the young lady is not in her room."
+
+"She must be!" cried Dennison, alarmed. "Miss Norman?" he called, beating
+on the door.
+
+No sound answered from within. Dennison pondered for a moment. Ling Foo
+also pondered--apprehensively. He suspected that some misfortune had
+befallen the young woman, for her kind did not go prowling alone round
+Shanghai at night. Slue-Foot! Should he utter his suspicion to this
+American officer? But if it should become a police affair! Bitterly he
+arraigned himself for disclosing his hand to Slue-Foot. That demon had
+forestalled him. No doubt by now he had the beads. Ten thousand devils
+pursue him!
+
+Dennison struck his hands together, and by and by a sleepy Chinese boy
+came scuffling along the corridor.
+
+"Talkee manager come topside," said Dennison. When the manager arrived,
+perturbed, Dennison explained the situation.
+
+"Will you open the door?"
+
+The manager agreed to do that. The bedroom was empty. The bed had not been
+touched. But there was no evidence that the occupant did not intend to
+return.
+
+"We shall leave everything just as it is," said Dennison, authoritatively.
+"I am her friend. If she does not return by one o'clock I shall notify the
+police and have the young lady's belongings transferred to the American
+consulate. She is under the full protection of the United States
+Government. You will find out if any saw her leave the hotel, and what the
+time was. Stay here in the doorway while I look about."
+
+He saw the jade necklace reposing in the soap dish, and in an ironical
+mood he decided not to announce the discovery to the Chinaman. Let him pay
+for his cupidity. In some mysterious manner he had got his yellow claws on
+those infernal beads, and the rogue Cunningham had gone to him with a
+substantial bribe. So let the pigtail wail for his jade.
+
+On the dresser he saw a sheet of paper partly opened. Beside it lay a torn
+envelope. Dennison's heart lost a beat. The handwriting was his father's!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+Jane had gone to meet his father. How to secrete this note without being
+observed by either the manager or the Chinaman? An accident came to his
+aid. Someone in the corridor banged a door violently, and as the manager's
+head and Ling Foo's jerked about, Dennison stuffed the note into a
+pocket.
+
+A trap! Dennison wasn't alarmed--he was only furious. Jane had walked into
+a trap. She had worn those accursed beads when his father had approached
+her by the bookstall that afternoon. The note had attacked her curiosity
+from a perfectly normal angle. Dennison had absorbed enough of the note's
+contents to understand how readily Jane had walked into the trap.
+
+Very well. He would wait in the lobby until one; then if Jane had not
+returned he would lay the plans of a counter-attack, and it would be a
+rough one. Of course no bodily harm would befall Jane, but she would
+probably be harried and bullied out of those beads. But would she? It was
+not unlikely that she would become a pretty handful, once she learned she
+had been tricked. If she balked him, how would the father act? The old
+boy was ruthless when he particularly wanted something.
+
+If anything should happen to her--an event unlooked for, accidental, over
+which his father would have no control--this note would bring the old boy
+into a peck of trouble; and Dennison was loyal enough not to wish this to
+happen. And yet it would be only just to make the father pay once for his
+high-handedness. That would be droll--to see his father in the dock,
+himself as a witness against him! Here was the germ of a tiptop drama.
+
+But all this worry was doubtless being wasted upon mere supposition. Jane
+might turn over the beads without bargaining, provided the father had any
+legal right to them, which Dennison strongly doubted.
+
+He approached Ling Foo and seized him roughly by the arm.
+
+"What do you know about these glass beads?"
+
+Ling Foo elevated a shoulder and let it fall.
+
+"Nothing, except that the man who owns them demands that I recover them."
+
+"And who is this man?"
+
+"I don't know his name."
+
+"That won't pass. You tell me who he is or I'll turn you over to the
+police."
+
+"I am an honest man," replied Ling Foo with dignity. He appealed to the
+manager.
+
+"I have known Ling Foo a long time, sir. He is perfectly honest."
+
+Ling Foo nodded. He knew that this recommendation, honest as it was, would
+have weight with the American.
+
+"But you have some appointment with this man. Where is that to be? I
+demand to know that."
+
+Ling Foo saw his jade vanish along with his rainbow gold. His early
+suppositions had been correct.
+
+Those were devil beads, and evil befell any who touched them.
+
+Silently he cursed the soldier's ancestors half a thousand years back. If
+the white fool hadn't meddled in the parlour that afternoon!
+
+"Come with me," he said, finally.
+
+The game was played out; the counters had gone back to the basket. He had
+no desire to come into contact with police officials. Only it was as
+bitter as the gall of chicken, and he purposed to lessen his own
+discomfort by making the lame man share it. Oriental humour.
+
+Dennison and the hotel manager followed him curiously. At the end of the
+corridor Ling Foo stopped and knocked on a door. It was opened
+immediately.
+
+"Ah! Oh!"
+
+The inflections touched Dennison's sense of humour, and he smiled. A
+greeting with a snap-back of dismay.
+
+"I'm not surprised," he said. "I had a suspicion I'd find you in this
+somewhere."
+
+"Find me in what?" asked Cunningham, his poise recovered. He, too, began
+to smile. "Won't you come in?"
+
+"What about these glass beads?"
+
+"Glass beads? Oh, yes. But why?"
+
+"I fancy you'd better come out into the clear, Cunningham," said Dennison,
+grimly.
+
+"You wish to know about those beads? Very well, I'll explain, because
+something has happened--I know not what. You all look so infernally
+serious. Those beads are a key to a code. The British Government is keenly
+anxious to recover this key. In the hands of certain Hindus those beads
+would constitute bad medicine."
+
+Ling Foo spread his hands relievedly.
+
+"That is the story. I was to receive five hundred gold for their
+recovery."
+
+"A code key," said Dennison, musing.
+
+He knew Cunningham was lying. Anthony Cleigh wasn't the man to run across
+half the world for a British code key. On the other hand, perhaps it would
+be wise to let the hotel manager and the Chinaman continue in the belief
+that the affair concerned a British code.
+
+"If I did not know you tolerably well----"
+
+"My dear captain, you don't know me at all," interrupted Cunningham. "Have
+you got the beads?"
+
+"I have not. I doubt if you will ever lay eyes on them again."
+
+Something flashed across the handsome face. Ling Foo alone recognized it.
+He had glimpsed it, this expression, outside his window the night before.
+He recalled the dark stain on the floor of his shop, and he also
+recollected a saying of Confucius relative to greed. He wished he was back
+in his shop, well out of this muddle. The jade could go, valuable as it
+was. With his hands tucked in his sleeves he waited.
+
+Dennison turned upon the manager. He wanted to be alone with Cunningham.
+
+"Go down and make inquiries, and take this Chinaman with you. I'll be with
+you shortly." As soon as the two were out of the way Dennison said:
+"Cunningham, the lady who wore those beads at dinner to-night has gone out
+alone, wearing them. If I find that you are anywhere back of this
+venture--if she does not return shortly--I will break you as I would a
+churchwarden pipe."
+
+Cunningham appeared genuinely taken aback.
+
+"She went out alone?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you notified the police?"
+
+"Not yet. I'm giving her until one; then I shall start something."
+
+"Something tells me," said Cunningham, easily, "that Miss Norman is in no
+danger. But she would never have gone out if I had been in the lobby. If
+she has not returned by one call me. Any assistance I can give will be
+given gladly. Women ought never to be mixed up in affairs such as this
+one, on this side of the world. Tell your father that he ought to know by
+this time that he is no match for me."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Innocent! You know very well what I mean. If you hadn't a suspicion of
+what has happened you would be roaring up and down the corridors with the
+police. You run true to the breed. It's a good one, I'll admit. But your
+father will regret this night's work."
+
+"Perhaps. Here, read this."
+
+Dennison extended the note. Cunningham, his brows bent, ran through the
+missive.
+
+  MISS NORMAN: Will you do me the honour to meet me at the bridgehead
+  at half-past nine--practically at once? My son and I are not on
+  friendly terms. Still, I am his father, and I'd like to hear what he
+  has been doing over here. I will have a limousine, and we can ride
+  out on the Bubbling Well Road while we talk.
+
+                                                     ANTHONY CLEIGH.
+
+"Didn't know," said Cunningham, returning the note, "that you two were at
+odds. But this is a devil of a mix-up, if it's what I think."
+
+"What do you think?"
+
+"That he's abducted her--carried her off to the yacht."
+
+"He's no fool," was the son's defense.
+
+"He isn't, eh? Lord love you, sonny, your father and I are the two biggest
+fools on all God's earth!"
+
+The door closed sharply in Dennison's face and the key rasped in the
+lock.
+
+For a space Dennison did not stir. Why should he wish to protect his
+father? Between his father and this handsome rogue there was small choice.
+The old boy made such rogues possible. But supposing Cleigh had wished
+really to quiz Jane? To find out something about these seven years, lean
+and hard, with stretches of idleness and stretches of furious labour,
+loneliness? Well, the father would learn that in all these seven years the
+son had never faltered from the high level he had set for his conduct.
+That was a stout staff to lean on--he had the right to look all men
+squarely in the eye.
+
+He had been educated to inherit millions; he had not been educated to
+support himself by work in a world that specialized. He had in these seven
+years been a jeweller's clerk, an auctioneer in a salesroom; he had
+travelled from Baluchistan to Damascus with carpet caravans, but he had
+never forged ahead financially. Generally the end of a job had been the
+end of his resources. One fact the thought of which never failed to buck
+him up--he had never traded on his father's name.
+
+Then had come the war. He had returned to America, trained, and they had
+assigned him to Russia. But that had not been without its reward--he had
+met Jane.
+
+In a New York bank, to his credit, was the sum of twenty thousand dollars,
+at compound interest for seven years, ready to answer to the scratch of a
+pen, but he had sworn he would never touch a dollar of it. Never before
+had the thought of it risen so strongly to tempt him. His for the mere
+scratch of a pen!
+
+In the lobby he found the manager pacing nervously, while Ling Foo sat
+patiently and inscrutably.
+
+"Why do you wait?" inquired Dennison, irritably.
+
+"The lady has some jade of mine," returned Ling Foo, placidly. "It was a
+grave mistake."
+
+"What was?"
+
+"That you interfered this afternoon. The lady would be in her room at this
+hour. The devil beads would not be casting a spell on us."
+
+"Devil beads, eh?"
+
+Ling Foo shrugged and ran his hands into his sleeves. Somewhere along the
+banks of the Whangpoo or the Yang-tse would be the body of an unknown, but
+Ling Foo's lips were locked quite as securely as the dead man's. Devil
+beads they were.
+
+"When did the man upstairs leave the beads with you?"
+
+"Last night."
+
+"For what reason?"
+
+"He will tell you. It is none of my affair now." And that was all Dennison
+could dig out of Ling Foo.
+
+Jane Norman did not return at one o'clock; in fact, she never returned to
+the Astor House. Dennison waited until three; then he went back to the
+Palace, and Ling Foo to his shop and oblivion.
+
+Dennison decided that he did not want the police in the affair. In that
+event there would be a lot of publicity, followed by the kind of talk that
+stuck. He was confident that he could handle the affair alone. So he
+invented a white lie, and nobody questioned it because of his uniform.
+Miss Norman had found friends, and shortly she would send for her effects;
+but until that time she desired the consulate to take charge. Under the
+eyes of the relieved hotel manager and an indifferent clerk from the
+consulate the following morning Dennison packed Jane's belongings and
+conveyed them to the consulate, which was hard by. Next he proceeded to
+the water front and engaged a motor boat. At eleven o'clock he drew up
+alongside the _Wanderer II_.
+
+"Hey, there!" shouted a seaman. "Sheer off! Orders to receive no
+visitors!"
+
+Dennison began to mount, ignoring the order. It was a confusing situation
+for the sailor. If he threw this officer into the yellow water--as
+certainly he would have thrown a civilian--Uncle Sam might jump on his
+back and ride him to clink. Against this was the old man, the very devil
+for obedience to his orders. If he pushed this lad over, the clink; if he
+let him by, the old man's foot. And while the worried seaman was reaching
+for water with one hand and wind with the other, as the saying goes,
+Dennison thrust him roughly aside, crossed the deck to the main
+companionway, and thundered down into the salon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+Cleigh sat before a card table; he was playing Chinese Canfield. He looked
+up, but he neither rose nor dropped the half-spent deck of cards he held
+in his hand. The bronzed face, the hard agate blue of the eyes that met
+his own, the utter absence of visible agitation, took the wind out of
+Dennison's sails and left him all a-shiver, like a sloop coming about on a
+fresh tack. He had made his entrance stormily enough, but now the hot
+words stuffed his throat to choking.
+
+Cleigh was thirty years older than his son; he was a finished master of
+sentimental emotions; he could keep all his thoughts out of his
+countenance when he so willed. But powerful as his will was, in this
+instance it failed to reach down into his heart; and that thumped against
+his ribs rather painfully. The boy!
+
+Dennison, aware that he stood close to the ridiculous, broke the spell and
+advanced.
+
+"I have come for Miss Norman," he said.
+
+Cleigh scrutinized the cards and shifted one.
+
+"I found your note to her. I've a launch. I don't know what the game is,
+but I'm going to take Miss Norman back with me if I have to break in every
+door on board!"
+
+Cleigh stood up. As he did so Dodge, the Texan appeared in the doorway to
+the dining salon. Dennison saw the blue barrel of a revolver.
+
+"A gunman, eh? All right. Let's see if he'll shoot," said the son, walking
+deliberately toward Dodge.
+
+"No, Dodge!" Cleigh called out as the Texan, raised the revolver. "You may
+go."
+
+Dodge, a good deal astonished, backed out. Once more father and son stared
+at each other.
+
+"Better call it off," advised the son. "You can't hold Miss Norman--and I
+can make a serious charge. Bring her at once, or I'll go for her. And the
+Lord help the woodwork if I start!"
+
+But even as he uttered the threat Dennison heard a sound behind. He
+turned, but not soon enough. In a second he was on the floor, three husky
+seamen mauling him. They had their hands full for a while, but in the end
+they conquered.
+
+"What next, sir?" asked one of the sailors, breathing hard.
+
+"Tie him up and lock him in Cabin Two."
+
+The first order was executed. After Dennison's arms and ankles were bound
+the men stood him up.
+
+"Are you really my father?"
+
+Cleigh returned to his cards and shuffled them for a new deal.
+
+"Don't untie him. He might walk through the partition. He will have the
+freedom of the deck when we are out of the delta."
+
+Dennison was thereupon carried to Cabin Two, and deposited upon the
+stationary bed. He began to laugh. There was a sardonic note in this
+laughter, like that which greets you when you recount some incredible
+tale. His old cabin!
+
+The men shook their heads, as if confronted by something so unusual that
+it wasn't worth while to speculate upon it. The old man's son! They went
+out, locking the door. By this time Dennison's laughter had reached the
+level of shouting, but only he knew how near it was to tears--wrathful,
+murderous, miserable tears! He fought his bonds terrifically for a moment,
+then relaxed.
+
+For seven years he had been hugging the hope that when he and his father
+met blood would tell, and that their differences would vanish in a strong
+handclasp; and here he lay, trussed hand and foot, in his old cabin, not a
+crack in that granite lump his father called a heart!
+
+A childish thought! Some day to take that twenty thousand with accrued
+interest, ride up to the door, step inside, dump the silver on that old
+red Samarkand, and depart--forever.
+
+Where was she? This side of the passage or the other?
+
+"Miss Norman?" he called.
+
+"Yes?" came almost instantly from the cabin aft.
+
+"This is Captain Dennison. I'm tied up and lying on the bed. Can you hear
+me distinctly?"
+
+"Yes. Your father has made a prisoner of you? Of all the inhuman acts! You
+came in search of me?"
+
+"Naturally. Have you those infernal beads?"
+
+"No."
+
+Dennison twisted about until he had his shoulders against the brass rail
+of the bed head.
+
+"What happened?"
+
+"It was a trick. It was not to talk about you--he wanted the beads, and
+that made me furious."
+
+"Were you hurt in the struggle?"
+
+"There wasn't any. I really don't know what possessed me. Perhaps I was a
+bit hypnotized. Perhaps I was curious. Perhaps I wanted--some excitement.
+On my word, I don't know just what happened. Anyhow, here I am--in a
+dinner gown, bound for Hong-Kong, so he says. He offered me ten thousand
+for the beads, and my freedom, if I would promise not to report his
+high-handedness; and I haven't uttered a sound."
+
+"Heaven on earth, why didn't you accept his offer?"
+
+A moment of silence.
+
+"In the first place, I haven't the beads. In the second place, I want to
+make him all the trouble I possibly can. Now that he has me, he doesn't
+know what to do with me. Hoist by his own petard. Do you want the truth?
+Well, I'm not worried in the least. I feel as if I'd been invited to some
+splendiferous picnic."
+
+"That's foolish," he remonstrated.
+
+"Of course it is. But it's the sort of foolishness I've been aching for
+all my life. I knew something was going to happen. I broke my hand mirror
+night before last. Two times seven years' bad luck. Now he has me, I'll
+wager he's half frightened out of his wits. But what made you think of the
+yacht?"
+
+"We forced the door of your room, and I found the note. Has he told you
+what makes those infernal beads so precious?"
+
+"No. I can't figure that out."
+
+"No more can I. Did he threaten you?"
+
+"Yes. Would I enter the launch peacefully, or would he have to carry me? I
+didn't want my gown spoiled--it's the only decent one I have. I'm not
+afraid. It isn't as though he were a stranger. Being your father, he would
+never stoop to any indignity. But he'll find he has caught a tartar. I
+had an idea you'd find me."
+
+"Well, I have. But you won't get to Hong-Kong. The minute he liberates me
+I'll sneak into the wireless room and bring the destroyers. I didn't
+notify the police from a bit of foolish sentiment. I didn't quite want you
+mixed up in the story. I had your things conveyed to the consulate."
+
+"My story--which few men would believe. I've thought of that. Are you
+smoking?"
+
+"Smoking, with my hands tied behind my back? Not so you'd notice it."
+
+"I smell tobacco smoke--a good cigar, too."
+
+"Then someone is in the passage listening."
+
+Silence. Anthony Cleigh eyed his perfecto rather ruefully and tiptoed back
+to the salon. Hoist by his own petard. He was beginning to wonder. Cleigh
+was a man who rarely regretted an act, but in the clear light of day he
+was beginning to have his doubts regarding this one. A mere feather on the
+wrong side of the scale, and the British destroyers would be atop of him
+like a flock of kites. Abduction! Cut down to bedrock, he had laid himself
+open to that. He ran his fingers through his cowlicks. But drat the woman!
+why had she accepted the situation so docilely? Since midnight not a sound
+out of her, not a wail, not a sob. Now he had her, he couldn't let her
+go. She was right there.
+
+There was one man in the crew Cleigh had begun to dislike intensely, and
+he had been manoeuvring ever since Honolulu to find a legitimate excuse to
+give the man his papers. Something about the fellow suggested covert
+insolence; he had the air of a beachcomber who had unexpectedly fallen
+into a soft berth, and it had gone to his head. He had been standing watch
+at the ladder head, and against positive orders he had permitted a visitor
+to pass him. To Cleigh this was the handle he had been hunting for. He
+summoned the man.
+
+"Get your duffle," said Cleigh.
+
+"What's that, sir?"
+
+"Get your stuff. You're through. You had positive orders, and you let a
+man by."
+
+"But his uniform fussed me, sir. I didn't know just how to act."
+
+"Get your stuff! Mr. Cleve will give you your pay. My orders are absolute.
+Off with you!"
+
+The sailor sullenly obeyed. He found the first officer alone in the chart
+house.
+
+"The boss has sent me for my pay, Mr. Cleve. I'm fired." Flint grinned
+amiably.
+
+"Fired? Well, well," said Cleve, "that's certainly tough luck--all this
+way from home. I'll have to pay you in Federal Reserve bills. The old man
+has the gold."
+
+"Federal Reserve it is. Forty-six dollars in Uncle Samuels."
+
+The first officer solemnly counted out the sum and laid it on the palm of
+the discharged man.
+
+"Tough world."
+
+"Oh, I'm not worrying! I'll bet you this forty-six against ten that I've
+another job before midnight."
+
+Mr. Cleve grinned.
+
+"Always looking for sure-thing bets! Better hail that bumboat with the
+vegetables to row you into town. The old man'll dump you over by hand if
+he finds you here between now and sundown."
+
+"I'll try the launch there. Tell the lad his fare ain't goin' back to
+Shanghai. Of course it makes it a bit inconvenient, packing and unpacking;
+but I guess I can live through it. But what about the woman?"
+
+Cleve plucked at his chin.
+
+"Messes up the show a bit. Pippin, though. I like 'em when they walk
+straight and look straight like this one. Notice her hair? You never tame
+that sort beyond parlour manners. But I don't like her on board here, or
+the young fellow, either. Don't know him, but he's likely to bust the
+yacht wide open if he gets loose."
+
+"Well, so long, Mary! Know what my first move'll be?"
+
+"A bottle somewhere. But mind your step! Don't monkey with the stuff
+beyond normal. You know what I mean."
+
+"Sure! Only a peg or two, after all this psalm-singing!"
+
+"I know, Flint. But this game is no joke. You know what happened in town?
+Morrissy was near croaked."
+
+Flint's face lost some of its gayety.
+
+"Oh, I know how to handle the stuff! See you later."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Cleigh decided to see what the girl's temper was, so he entered the
+passage on the full soles of his shoes. He knocked on her door.
+
+"Miss Norman?"
+
+"Well?"
+
+That was a good sign; she was ready to talk.
+
+"I have come to repeat that offer."
+
+"Mr. Cleigh, I have nothing to say so long as the key is on the wrong side
+of the door."
+
+Cleigh heard a chuckle from Cabin Two.
+
+"Very well," he said. "Remember, I offered you liberty conditionally. If
+you suffer inconveniences after to-night you will have only yourself to
+thank."
+
+"Have you calculated that some day you will have to let me go?"
+
+"Yes, I have calculated on that."
+
+"And that I shall go to the nearest authorities and report this action?"
+
+"If you will think a moment," said Cleigh, his tone monotonously level,
+"you will dismiss that plan for two reasons: First, that no one will
+believe you; second, that no one will want to believe you. That's as near
+as I care to put it. Your imagination will grasp it."
+
+"Instantly!" cried the girl, hotly. "I knew you to be cold and hard, but I
+did not believe you were a scoundrel--having known your son!"
+
+"I have no son."
+
+"Oh, yes, you have!"
+
+"I disowned him. He is absolutely nothing to me."
+
+"I do not believe that," came back through the cabin door.
+
+"Nevertheless, it is the truth. The queer part is, I've tried to resurrect
+the father instinct, and can't. I've tried to go round the wall--over it.
+I might just as well try to climb the Upper Himalayas."
+
+In Cabin Two the son stared at the white ceiling. It seemed to him that
+all his vitals had been wrenched out of him, leaving him hollow, empty. He
+knew his father's voice; it rang with truth.
+
+"I offer you ten thousand."
+
+"The key is still on the outside."
+
+"I'm afraid to trust you."
+
+"We understand each other perfectly," said Jane, ironically.
+
+The son smiled. The sense of emptiness vanished, and there came into his
+blood a warmth as sweet as it was strong. Jane Norman, angel of mercy. He
+heard his father speaking again:
+
+"Since you will have it so, you will go to Hong-Kong?"
+
+"To Patagonia if you wish! You cannot scare me by threatening me with
+travel on a private yacht. I had the beads, it is true; but at this moment
+I haven't the slightest idea where they are; and if I had I should not
+tell you. I refuse to buy my liberty; you will have to give it to me
+without conditions."
+
+"I'm sorry I haven't anything on board in shape of women's clothes, but
+I'll send for your stuff if you wish."
+
+"That is the single consideration you have shown me. My belongings are at
+the American consulate, and I should be glad to have them."
+
+"You will find paper and ink in the escritoire. Write me an order and I
+promise to attend to the matter personally."
+
+"And search through everything at your leisure!"
+
+Cleigh blushed, and he heard his son chuckle again. He had certainly
+caught a tartar--possibly two. With a twisted smile he recalled the old
+yarn of the hunter who caught the bear by the tail. Willing to let go, and
+daring not!
+
+"Still I agree," continued the girl. "I want my own familiar things--if I
+must take this forced voyage. But mark me, Mr. Cleigh, you will pay some
+day! I'm not the clinging kind, and I shall fight you tooth and nail from
+the first hour of my freedom. I'm not without friends."
+
+"Never in this world!" came resonantly from Cabin Two.
+
+Cleigh longed to get away. There was a rumbling and a threatening inside
+of him that needed space--Gargantuan laughter. Not the clinging kind, this
+girl! And the boy, walking straight at Dodge's villainous revolver! Why,
+he would need the whole crew behind him when he liberated these two! But
+he knew that the laughter striving for articulation was not the kind heard
+in Elysian fields!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+"If you will write the order I will execute it at once. The consulate
+closes early."
+
+"I'll write it, but how will I get it to you? The door closes below the
+sill."
+
+"When you are ready, call, and I will open the door a little."
+
+"It would be better if you opened it full wide. This is China--I
+understand that. But we are both Americans, and there's a good sound law
+covering an act like this."
+
+"But it does not reach as far as China. Besides, I have an asset back in
+the States. It is my word. I have never broken it to any man or woman, and
+I expect I never shall. You have, or have had, what I consider my
+property. You have hedged the question; you haven't been frank."
+
+The son listened intently.
+
+"I bought that string of glass beads in good faith of a Chinaman--Ling
+Foo. I consider them mine--that is, if they are still in my possession.
+Between the hour I met you last night and the moment of Captain Dennison's
+entrance to my room considerable time had elapsed."
+
+"Sufficient for a rogue like Cunningham to make good use of," supplemented
+the prisoner in Cabin Two. "There's a way of finding out the facts."
+
+"Indeed?"
+
+"Yes. You used to carry a planchette that once belonged to the actress
+Rachel. Why not give it a whirl? Everybody's doing it."
+
+Cleigh eyed Cabin Four, then Cabin Two, and shook his head slightly,
+dubiously. He was not getting on well. To come into contact with a strong
+will was always acceptable; and a strong will in a woman was a novelty.
+All at once it struck him forcibly that he stood on the edge of boredom;
+that the lure which had brought him fully sixteen thousand miles was
+losing its bite. Was he growing old, drying up?
+
+"Will you tell me what it is about these beads that makes you offer ten
+thousand for them? Glass--anybody could see that. What makes them as
+valuable as pearls?"
+
+"They are love beads," answered Cleigh, mockingly. "They are far more
+potent than powdered pearls. You have worn them about your throat, Miss
+Norman, and the sequence is inevitable."
+
+"Nonsense!" cried Jane.
+
+Dennison added his mite to the confusion:
+
+"I thought that scoundrel Cunningham was lying. He said the string was a
+code key belonging to the British Intelligence Office."
+
+"Rot!" Cleigh exploded.
+
+"So I thought."
+
+"But hurry, Miss Norman. The sooner I have that written order on the
+consulate the sooner you'll have your belongings."
+
+"Very well."
+
+Five minutes later she announced that the order was completed, and Cleigh
+opened the door slightly.
+
+"The key will be given you the moment we weigh anchor."
+
+"I say," called the son, "you might drop into the Palace and get my truck,
+too. I'm particular about my toothbrushes." A pause. "I'd like a drink,
+too--if you've got the time."
+
+Cleigh did not answer, but he presently entered Cabin Two, filled a glass
+with water, raised his son's head to a proper angle, and gave him drink.
+
+"Thanks. This business strikes me as the funniest thing I ever heard of!
+You would have done that for a dog."
+
+Cleigh replaced the water carafe in the rack above the wash bowl and went
+out, locking the door. In the salon he called for Dodge:
+
+"I am going into town. I'll be back round five. Don't stir from this
+cabin."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You remember that fellow who was here night before last?"
+
+"The good-looking chap that limped?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And I'm to crease him if he pokes his noodle down the stairs?"
+
+"Exactly! No talk, no palaver! If he starts talking he'll talk you out of
+your boots. Shoot!"
+
+"In the leg? All right."
+
+His employer having gone, Dodge sat in a corner from which he could see
+the companionway and all the passages. He lit a long black cigar, laid his
+formidable revolver on a knee, and began his vigil. A queer job for an old
+cow-punch, for a fact.
+
+To guard an old carpet that didn't have "welcome" on it anywhere--he
+couldn't get that, none whatever. But there was a hundred a week, the best
+grub pile in the world, and the old man's Havanas as often as he pleased.
+Pretty soft!
+
+And he had learned a new trick--shooting target in a rolling sea. He had
+wasted a hundred rounds before getting the hang of it. Maybe these sailors
+hadn't gone pop-eyed when they saw him pumping lead into the bull's-eye
+six times running? Tin cans and raw potatoes in the water, too. Something
+to brag about if he ever got back home.
+
+He broke the gun and inspected the cylinder. There wasn't as much grease
+on the cartridges as he would have liked.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Miss Norman?" called Dennison.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Are you comfortable?"
+
+"Oh, I'm all right. I'm only furious with rage, that's all. You are still
+tied?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"I really don't understand your father."
+
+"I have never understood him. Yet he was very kind to me when I was
+little. I don't suppose there is anything in heaven or on earth that he's
+afraid of."
+
+"He is afraid of me."
+
+"Do you believe that?"
+
+"I know it. He would give anything to be rid of me. But go on."
+
+"With what?"
+
+"Your past."
+
+"Well, I'm something like him physically. We are both so strong that we
+generally burst through rather than take the trouble to go round. I'm
+honestly sorry for him. Not a human being to love or be loved by. He never
+had a dog. I don't recollect my mother; she died when I was three; and
+that death had something to do with the iron in his soul. Our old butler
+used to tell me that Father cursed horribly, I mean blasphemously, when
+they took the mother out of the house. There are some men like that, who
+love terribly, away and beyond the average human ability. After the mother
+died he plunged into the money game. He was always making it, piling it up
+ruthlessly but honestly. Then that craving petered out, and he took a hand
+in the collecting game. What will come next I don't know. As a boy I was
+always afraid of him. He was kind to me, but in the abstract. I was like
+an extra on the grocer's bill. He put me into the hands of a tutor--a
+lovable old dreamer--and paid no more attention to me. He never put his
+arms round me and told me fairy stories."
+
+"Poor little boy! No fairy stories!"
+
+"Nary a one until I began to have playmates."
+
+"Do the ropes hurt?"
+
+"They might if I were alone."
+
+"What do you make of the beads?"
+
+"Only that they have some strange value, or father wouldn't be after them.
+Love beads! Doesn't sound half so plausible as Cunningham's version."
+
+"That handsome man who limped?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"A real adventurer--the sort one reads about!"
+
+"And the queer thing about him, he keeps his word, too, for all his
+business is a shady one. I don't suppose there is a painting or a jewel or
+a book of the priceless sort that he doesn't know about, where it is and
+if it can be got at. Some of his deals are aboveboard, but many of them
+aren't. I'll wager these beads have a story of loot."
+
+"What he steals doesn't hurt the poor."
+
+"So long as the tigers fight among themselves and leave the goats alone,
+it doesn't stir you. Is that it?"
+
+"Possibly."
+
+"And besides, he's a handsome beggar, if there ever was one."
+
+"He has the face of an angel!"
+
+"And the soul of a vandal!"--with a touch of irritability.
+
+"Now you aren't fair. A vandal destroys things; this man only
+transfers----"
+
+"For a handsome monetary consideration----"
+
+"Only transfers a picture from one gallery to another."
+
+"Well, we've seen the last of him for a while, anyhow."
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"Will you answer me a question?"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"Do you know where those beads are?"
+
+"A little while gone I smelt tobacco smoke," she answered, dryly.
+
+"I see. We'll talk of something else then. Have you ever been in love?"
+
+"Have you?"
+
+"Violently--so I believed."
+
+"But you got over it?"
+
+"Absolutely! And you?"
+
+"Oh, I haven't had the time. I've been too busy earning bread and butter.
+What was she like?"
+
+"A beautiful mirage--the lie in the desert, you might say. Has it ever
+occurred to you that the mirage is the one lie Nature utters?"
+
+"I hadn't thought. She deceived you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+A short duration of silence.
+
+"Doesn't hurt to talk about her?"
+
+"Lord, no! Because I wasn't given fairy stories when I was little, I took
+them seriously when I was twenty-three."
+
+"Puppy love."
+
+"It went a little deeper than that."
+
+"But you don't hate women?"
+
+"No. I never hated the woman who deceived me. I was terribly sorry for
+her."
+
+"For having lost so nice a husband?"--with a bit of malice.
+
+He greeted this with laughter.
+
+"It is written," she observed, "that we must play the fool sometime or
+other."
+
+"Have you ever played it?"
+
+"Not yet, but you never can tell."
+
+"Jane, you're a brick!"
+
+"Jane!" she repeated. "Well, I don't suppose there's any harm in your
+calling me that, with partitions in between."
+
+"They used to call me Denny."
+
+"And you want me to call you that?"
+
+"Will you?"
+
+"I'll think it over--Denny!"
+
+They laughed. Both recognized the basic fact in this running patter. Each
+was trying to buck up the other. Jane was honestly worried. She could not
+say what it was that worried her, but there was a strong leaven in her of
+old-wives' prescience. It wasn't due to this high-handed adventure of
+Cleigh, senior; it was something leaning down darkly from the future that
+worried her. That hand mirror!
+
+"Better not talk any more," she advised. "You'll be getting thirsty."
+
+"I'm already that."
+
+"You're a brave man, captain," she said, her tone altering from gayety to
+seriousness. "Don't worry about me. I've always been able to take care of
+myself, though I've never been confronted with this kind of a situation
+before. Frankly, I don't like it. But I suspect that your father will have
+more respect for us if we laugh at him. Has he a sense of humour?"
+
+"My word for it, he has! What could be more humorous than tying me up in
+this fashion and putting me in the cabin that used to be mine? Ten
+thousand for a string of glass beads! I say, Jane!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"When he comes back tell him you might consider twenty thousand, just to
+get an idea what the thing is worth."
+
+"I'll promise that."
+
+"All right. Then I'll try to snooze a bit. Getting stuffy lying on my
+back."
+
+"The brute! If I could only help you!"
+
+"You have--you are--you will!"
+
+He turned on his side, his face toward the door. His arms and legs began
+to sting with the sensation known as sleep. He was glad his father had
+overheard the initial conversation. A wave of terror ran over him at the
+thought of being set ashore while Jane went on. Still he could have sent a
+British water terrier in hot pursuit.
+
+Jane sat down and took inventory. She knew but little about antiques--rugs
+and furniture--but she was full of inherent love of the beautiful. The
+little secretary upon which she had written the order on the consulate was
+an exquisite lowboy of old mahogany of dull finish. On the floor were
+camel saddle-bays, Persian in pattern. On the panel over the lowboy was a
+small painting, a foot broad and a foot and a half long. It was old--she
+could tell that much. It was a portrait, tender and quaint. She would have
+gasped had she known that it was worth a cover of solid gold. It was a
+Holbein, The Younger, for which Cleigh some years gone had paid Cunningham
+sixteen thousand dollars. Where and how Cunningham had acquired it was not
+open history.
+
+An hour passed. By and by she rose and tiptoed to the partition. She held
+her ear against the panel, and as she heard nothing she concluded that
+Denny--why not?--was asleep. Next she gazed out of the port. It was
+growing dark outside, overcast. It would rain again probably. A drab sky,
+a drab shore. She saw a boat filled with those luscious vegetables which
+wrote typhus for any white person who ate them. A barge went by piled high
+with paddy bags--rice in the husk--with Chinamen at the forward and stern
+sweeps. She wondered if these poor yellow people had ever known what it
+was to play?
+
+Suddenly she fell back, shocked beyond measure. From the direction of the
+salon--a pistol shot! This was followed by the tramp of hurrying feet.
+Voices, now sharp, now rumbling--this grew nearer. A struggle of some
+dimensions was going on in the passage. The racket reached her door, but
+did not pause there. She sank into the chair, a-tremble.
+
+Dennison struggled to a sitting posture.
+
+"Jane?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Are you all right?"
+
+"Yes, what has happened?"
+
+"A bit of mutiny, I take it; but it seems to be over."
+
+"But the shot!"
+
+"I heard no cry of pain, only a lot of scuffling and some high words.
+Don't worry."
+
+"I won't. Can't you break a piece of glass and saw your way out?"
+
+"Lord love you, that's movie stuff! If I had a razor, I couldn't manage it
+without hacking off my hands. You are worried!"
+
+"I'm a woman, Denny. I'm not afraid of your father; but if there is
+mutiny, with all these treasures on board--and over here----"
+
+"All right. I'll make a real effort."
+
+She could hear him stumbling about. She heard the crash of the water
+carafe on the floor. Several minutes dragged by.
+
+"Can't be done!" said Dennison. "Can't make the broken glass stay put.
+Can't reach my ankles, either, or I could get my feet free. There's a
+double latch on your door. See to it! Lord!"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Nothing. Just hunting round for some cuss words. Put the chair up against
+the door knob and sit tight for a while."
+
+The hours dragged by in stifling silence.
+
+Meanwhile, Cleigh, having attended to errands, lunched, had gone to the
+American consulate and presented the order. His name and reputation
+cleared away the official red tape. He explained that all the fuss of the
+night before had been without cause. Miss Norman had come aboard the
+yacht, and now decided to go to Hong-Kong with the family. This suggested
+the presence of other women on board. In the end, Jane's worldly goods
+were consigned to Cleigh, who signed the receipt and made off for the
+launch.
+
+It was growing dark. On the way down the river Cleigh made no attempt to
+search for the beads.
+
+The salon lights snapped up as the launch drew alongside. Once below,
+Cleigh dumped Jane's possessions into the nearest chair and turned to
+give Dodge an order--only to find the accustomed corner vacant!
+
+"Dodge!" he shouted. He ran to the passage. "Dodge, where the devil are
+you?"
+
+"Did you call, sir?"
+
+Cleigh spun about. In the doorway to the dining salon stood Cunningham, on
+his amazingly handsome face an expression of anxious solicitude!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+Cleigh was not only a big and powerful man--he was also courageous, but
+the absence of Dodge and the presence of Cunningham offered such sinister
+omen that temporarily he was bereft of his natural wit and initiative.
+
+"Where's Dodge?" he asked, stupidly.
+
+"Dodge is resting quietly," answered Cunningham, gravely. "He'll be on his
+feet in a day or two."
+
+That seemed to wake up Cleigh a bit. He drew his automatic.
+
+"Face to the wall, or I'll send a bullet into you!"
+
+Cunningham shook his head.
+
+"Did you examine the clip this morning? When you carry weapons like that
+for protection never put it in your pocket without a look-see. Dodge
+wouldn't have made your mistake. Shoot! Try it on the floor, or up through
+the lights--or at me if you'd like that better. The clip is empty."
+
+Mechanically Cleigh took aim and bore against the trigger. There was no
+explosion. A depressing sense of unreality rolled over the _Wanderer's_
+owner.
+
+"So you went into town for her luggage? Did you find the beads?"
+
+Cleigh made a negative sign. It was less an answer to Cunningham than an
+acknowledgment that he could not understand why the bullet clip should be
+empty.
+
+"It was an easy risk," explained Cunningham. "You carried the gun, but I
+doubt you ever looked it over. Having loaded it once upon a time, you
+believed that was sufficient, eh? Know what I think? The girl has hidden
+the beads in her hair. Did you search her?"
+
+Again Cleigh shook his head, as much over the situation as over the
+question.
+
+"What, you ran all this risk and hadn't the nerve to search her? Well,
+that's rich! Unless you've read her from my book. She would probably have
+scratched out your eyes. There's an Amazon locked up in that graceful
+body. I'd like to see her head against a bit of clear blue sky--a touch of
+Henner blues and reds. What a whale of a joke! Abduct a young woman, risk
+prison, and then afraid to lay hands on her! You poor old piker!"
+Cunningham laughed.
+
+"Cunningham----"
+
+"All right, I'll be merciful. To make a long story short, it means that
+for the present I am in command of this yacht. I warned you. Will you be
+sensible, or shall I have to lock you up like your two-gun man from
+Texas?"
+
+"Piracy!" cried Cleigh, coming out of his maze.
+
+"Maritime law calls it that, but it isn't really. No pannikins of rum, no
+fifteen men on a dead man's chest. Parlour stuff, you might call it. The
+whole affair--the parlour side of it--depends upon whether you purpose to
+act philosophically under stress or kick up a hullabaloo. In the latter
+event you may reasonably expect some rough stuff. Truth is, I'm only
+borrowing the yacht as far as latitude ten degrees and longitude one
+hundred and ten degrees, off Catwick Island. You carry a boson's whistle
+at the end of your watch chain. Blow it!" was the challenge.
+
+"You bid me blow it?"
+
+"Only to convince you how absolutely helpless you are," said Cunningham,
+amiably. "Yesterday this day's madness did prepare, as our old friend Omar
+used to say. Vedder did great work on that, didn't he? Toot the whistle,
+for shortly we shall weigh anchor."
+
+Like a man in a dream, Cleigh got out his whistle. The first blast was
+feeble and windy. Cunningham grinned.
+
+"Blow it, man, blow it!"
+
+Cleigh set the whistle between his lips and blew a blast that must have
+been heard half a mile away.
+
+"That's something like! Now we'll have results!"
+
+Above, on deck, came the scuffle of hurrying feet, and immediately--as if
+they had been prepared against this moment--three fourths of the crew came
+tumbling down the companionway.
+
+"Seize this man!" shouted Cleigh, thunderously, as he indicated
+Cunningham.
+
+The men, however, fell into line and came to attention. Most of them were
+grinning.
+
+"Do you hear me? Brown, Jessup, McCarthy--seize this man!"
+
+No one stirred. Cleigh then lost his head. With a growl he sprang toward
+Cunningham. Half the crew jumped instantly into the gap between, and they
+were no longer grinning. Cunningham pushed aside the human wall and faced
+the _Wanderer's_ owner.
+
+"Do you begin to understand?"
+
+"No! But whatever your game is, it will prove bad business for you in the
+end. And you men, too. The world has grown mighty small, and you'll find
+it hard to hide--unless you kill me and have done with it!"
+
+"Tut, tut! Wouldn't harm a hair of your head. The world is small, as you
+say, but just at this moment infernally busy mopping up. What, bother
+about a little dinkum dinkus like this, with Russia mad, Germany ugly,
+France grumbling at England, Italy shaking her fist at Greece, and labour
+making a monkey of itself? Nay! I'll shift the puzzle so you can read it.
+When the yacht was released from auxiliary duties she was without a crew.
+The old crew, that of peace times, was gone utterly, with the exception of
+four. You had the yacht keelhauled, gave her another daub of war paint and
+set about to find a crew. And I had one especially picked for you!
+Ordinarily, you've a tolerably keen eye. Didn't it strike you odd to land
+a crew who talked more or less grammatically, who were clean bodily, who
+weren't boozers?"
+
+Cleigh, fully alive now, coldly ran his inspecting glance over the men. He
+had never before given their faces any particular attention. Besides, this
+was the first time he had seen so many of them at once. During boat drill
+they had been divided into four squads. Young faces, lean and hard some of
+them, but reckless rather than bad. All of them at this moment appeared to
+be enjoying some huge joke.
+
+"I can only repeat," said Cleigh, "that you are all playing with
+dynamite."
+
+"Perhaps. Most of these boys fought in the war; they played the game; but
+when they returned nobody had any use for them. I caught them on the
+rebound, when they were a bit desperate. We formed a company--but of that
+more anon. Will you be my guest, or will you be my prisoner?"
+
+The velvet fell away from Cunningham's voice.
+
+"Have I any choice? I'll accept the condition because I must. But I've
+warned you. I suppose I'd better ask at once what the ransom is."
+
+"Ransom? Not a copper cent! You can make Singapore in two days from the
+Catwick."
+
+"And for helping me into Singapore I'm to agree not to hand such men as
+you leave me over to the British authorities?"
+
+"All wrong! The men who will help you into Singapore or take you to Manila
+will be as innocent as newborn babes. Wouldn't believe it, would you, but
+I'm one of those efficiency sharks. Nothing left to chance; all cut and
+dried; pluperfect. Cleigh, I never break my word. I honestly intended
+turning over those beads to you, but Morrissy muddled the play."
+
+"Next door to murder."
+
+"Near enough, but he'll pull out."
+
+"Are you going to take Miss Norman along?"
+
+"What, set her ashore to sic the British Navy on us? I'm sorry. I don't
+want her on board; but that was your play, not mine. You tried to
+double-cross me. But you need have no alarm. I will kill the man who
+touches her. You understand that, boys?"
+
+The crew signified that the order was understood, though one of them--the
+returned Flint--smiled cynically. If Cunningham noted the smile he made no
+verbal comment upon it.
+
+"Weigh anchor, then! Look alive! The sooner we nose down to the delta the
+sooner we'll have the proper sea room."
+
+The crew scurried off, and almost at once came familiar sounds--the rattle
+of the anchor chain on the windlass, the creaking of pulley blocks as the
+launch came aboard, the thud of feet hither and yon as portables were
+stowed or lashed to the deck-house rail. For several minutes Cleigh and
+Cunningham remained speechless and motionless.
+
+"You get all the angles?" asked Cunningham, finally.
+
+"Some of them," admitted Cleigh.
+
+"At any rate, enough to make you accept a bad situation with good grace?"
+
+"You're a foolhardy man, Cunningham. Do you expect me to lie down when
+this play is over? I solemnly swear to you that I'll spend the rest of my
+days hunting you down."
+
+"And I solemnly swear that you shan't catch me. I'm through with the old
+game of playing the genie in the bottle for predatory millionaires.
+Henceforth I'm on my own. I'm romantic--yes, sir--I'm romantic from heel
+to cowlick; and now I'm going to give rein to this stifled longing."
+
+"You will come to a halter round your neck. I have always paid your price
+on the nail, Cunningham."
+
+"You had to. Hang it, passions are the very devil, aren't they? Sooner or
+later one jumps upon your back and rides you like the Old Man of the
+Sea."
+
+Cleigh heard the rumble of steam.
+
+"Objects of art!" went on Cunningham. "It eats into your vitals to hear
+that some rival has picked up a Correggio or an ancient Kirman or a bit of
+Persian plaque. You talk of halters. Lord lumme, how obliquely you look at
+facts! Take that royal Persian there--the second-best animal rug on
+earth--is there no murder behind the woof and warp of it? What? Talk
+sense, Cleigh, talk sense! You cable me: Get such and such. I get it. What
+the devil do you care how it was got, so long as it eventually becomes
+yours? It's a case of the devil biting his own tail--pot calling kettle
+black."
+
+"How much do you want?"
+
+"No, Cleigh, it's the romantic idea."
+
+"I will give you fifty thousand for the rug."
+
+"I'm sorry. No use now of telling you the plot; you wouldn't believe me,
+as the song goes. Dinner at seven. Will you dine in the salon with me, or
+will you dine in the solemn grandeur of your own cabin, in company with Da
+Vinci, Teniers, and that Carlo Dolci the Italian Government has been
+hunting high and low for?"
+
+"I will risk the salon."
+
+"To keep an eye on me as long as possible. That's fair enough. You heard
+what I said to those boys. Well, every mother's son of 'em will toe the
+mark. There will be no change at all in the routine. Simply we lay a new
+course that will carry us outside and round Formosa, down to the South Sea
+and across to the Catwick. I'll give you one clear idea. A million and
+immunity would not stir me, Cleigh."
+
+"What's the game--if it's beyond ransom?"
+
+Cunningham laughed boyishly.
+
+"It's big, and you'll laugh, too, when I tell you."
+
+"On which side of the mouth?"
+
+"That's up to you."
+
+"Is it the rug?"
+
+"Oh, that, of course! I warned you that I'd come for the rug. It took two
+years out of my young life to get that for you, and it has always haunted
+me. I just told you about passions, didn't I? Once on your back, they ride
+you like the devil--down-hill."
+
+"A crook."
+
+"There you go again--pot calling kettle black! If you want to moralize,
+where's the line between the thief and the receiver? Fie on you! Dare you
+hang that Da Vinci, that Dolci, that Holbein in your gallery home? No!
+Stolen goods. What a passion! You sail across the seas alone, alone
+because you can't satisfy your passion and have knowing companions on
+board. When the yacht goes out of commission you store the loot, and
+tremble when you hear a fire alarm. All right. Dinner at seven. I'll go
+and liberate your son and the lady."
+
+"Cunningham, I will kill you out of hand the very first chance."
+
+"Old dear, I'll add a fact for your comfort. There will be guns on board,
+but half an hour gone all the ammunition was dumped into the Whangpoo. So
+you won't have anything but your boson's whistle. You're a bigger man than
+I am physically, and I've a slue-foot, a withered leg; but I've all the
+barroom tricks you ever heard of. So don't make any mistakes in that
+direction. You are free to come and go as you please; but the moment you
+start any rough house, into your cabin you go, and you'll stay there
+until we raise the Catwick. You haven't a leg to stand on."
+
+Cunningham lurched out of the salon and into the passage. He opened the
+door to Cabin Two and turned on the light. Dennison blinked stupidly.
+Cunningham liberated him and stood back.
+
+"Dinner at seven."
+
+"What the devil are you doing on board?" asked Dennison, thickly.
+
+"Well, here's gratitude for you! But in order that there will be no
+misunderstanding, I've turned to piracy for a change. Great sport! I've
+chartered the yacht for a short cruise." His banter turned into cold,
+precise tones. Cunningham went on: "No nonsense, captain! I put this crew
+on board away back in New York. Those beads, though having a merit of
+their own, were the lure to bring your father to these parts. Your
+presence and Miss Norman's are accidents for which I am genuinely sorry.
+But frankly, I dare not turn you loose. That's the milk in the cocoanut. I
+grant you the same privileges as I grant your father, which he has
+philosophically agreed to accept. Your word of honour to take it sensibly,
+and the freedom of the yacht is yours. Otherwise, I'll lock you up in a
+place not half so comfortable as this."
+
+"Piracy!"
+
+"Yes, sir. These are strangely troubled days. We've slumped morally.
+Humanity has been on the big kill, with the result that the tablets of
+Moses have been busted up something fierce. And here we are again, all
+kotowing to the Golden Calf! All I need is your word--the word of a
+Cleigh."
+
+"I give it." Dennison gave his word so that he might be free to protect
+the girl in the adjoining cabin. "But conditionally."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"That the young lady shall at all times be treated with the utmost
+respect. You will have to kill me otherwise."
+
+"These Cleighs! All right. That happens to be my own order to the crew.
+Any man who breaks it will pay heavily."
+
+"What's the game?" asked Dennison, rubbing his wrists tenderly while he
+balanced unsteadily upon his aching legs.
+
+"Later! I'll let Miss Norman out. That's so--her things are in the salon.
+I'll get them, but I'll unlock her door first."
+
+"What in heaven's name has happened?" asked Jane as she and Dennison stood
+alone in the passage.
+
+"The Lord knows!" gloomily. "But that scoundrel Cunningham has planted a
+crew of his own on board, and we are all prisoners."
+
+"Cunningham?"
+
+"The chap with the limp."
+
+"With the handsome face? But this is piracy!"
+
+"About the size of it."
+
+"Oh, I knew something was going to happen! But a pirate! Surely it must be
+a joke?"
+
+So it was--probably the most colossal joke that ever flowered in the mind
+of a man. The devil must have shouted and the gods must have held their
+sides, for it took either a devil or a god to understand the joke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+That first dinner would always remain vivid and clear-cut in Jane Norman's
+mind. It was fantastic. To begin with, there was that picturesque stone
+image at the head of the table--Cleigh--who appeared utterly oblivious of
+his surroundings, who ate with apparent relish, and who ignored both men,
+his son and his captor. Once or twice Jane caught his glance--a blue eye,
+sharp-pupiled, agate-hard. But what was it she saw--a twinkle or a
+sparkle? The breadth of his shoulders! He must be very powerful, like the
+son. Why, the two of them could have pulverized this pretty fellow
+opposite!
+
+Father and son! For seven years they had not met. Their indifference
+seemed so inhuman! Still, she fancied that the son dared not make any
+approach, however much he may have longed to. A woman! They had quarrelled
+over a woman! Something reached down from the invisible and pinched her
+heart.
+
+All this while Cunningham had been talking--banter. The blade would flash
+toward the father or whirl upon the son, or it would come toward her by
+the handle. She could not get away from the initial idea--that his eyes
+were like fire opals.
+
+"Miss Norman, you have very beautiful hair."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"It looks like Judith's. You remember, Cleigh, the one that hangs in the
+Pitti Galleria in Florence--Allori's?"
+
+Cleigh reached for a piece of bread, which he broke and buttered.
+
+Cunningham turned to Jane again.
+
+"Will you do me the favour of taking out the hairpins and loosing it?"
+
+"No!" said Dennison.
+
+"Why not?" said Jane, smiling bravely enough, though there ran over her
+spine a chill.
+
+It wasn't Cunningham's request--it was Dennison's refusal. That syllable,
+though spoken moderately, was the essence of battle, murder, and sudden
+death. If they should clash it would mean that Denny--how easy it was to
+call him that!--Denny would be locked up and she would be all alone. For
+the father seemed as aloof and remote as the pole.
+
+"You shall not do it!" declared Dennison. "Cunningham, if you force her I
+will break every bone in your body here and now!"
+
+Cleigh selected an olive and began munching it.
+
+"Nonsense!" cried Jane. "It's all awry anyhow." And she began to extract
+the hairpins. Presently she shook her head, and the ruddy mass of hair
+fell and rippled across and down her shoulders.
+
+"Well?" she said, looking whimsically into Cunningham's eyes. "It wasn't
+there, was it?"
+
+This tickled Cunningham.
+
+"You're a woman in a million! You read my thought perfectly. I like ready
+wit in a woman. I had to find out. You see, I had promised those beads to
+Cleigh, and when I humanly can I keep my promises. Sit down, captain!" For
+Dennison had risen to his feet. "Sit down! Don't start anything you can't
+finish." To Jane there was in the tone a quality which made her compare it
+with the elder Cleigh's eyes--agate-hard. "You are younger and stronger,
+and no doubt you could break me. But the moment my hand is withdrawn from
+this business--the moment I am off the board--I could not vouch for the
+crew. They are more or less decent chaps, or they were before this damned
+war stood humanity on its head. We wear the same clothes, use the same
+phrases; but we've been thrust back a thousand years. And Miss Norman is a
+woman. You understand?"
+
+Dennison sat down.
+
+"You'd better kill me somewhere along this voyage."
+
+"I may have to. Who knows? There's no real demarcation between comedy and
+tragedy; it's the angle of vision. It's rough medicine, this; but your
+father has agreed to take it sensibly, because he knows me tolerably well.
+Still, it will not do him any good to plan bribery. Buy the crew, Cleigh,
+if you believe you can. You'll waste your time. I do not pretend to hold
+them by loyalty. I hold them by fear. Act sensibly, all of you, and this
+will be a happy family. For after all, it's a joke, a whale of a joke. And
+some day you'll smile over it--even you, Cleigh."
+
+Cleigh pressed the steward's button.
+
+"The jam and the cheese, Togo," he said to the Jap.
+
+"Yess, sair!"
+
+A hysterical laugh welled into Jane's throat, but she did not permit it to
+escape her lips. She began to build up her hair clumsily, because her
+hands trembled.
+
+Adventure! She thrilled! She had read somewhere that after seven thousand
+years of tortuous windings human beings had formed about themselves a thin
+shell which they called civilization. And always someone was breaking
+through and retracing those seven thousand years. Here was an example in
+Cunningham. Only a single step was necessary. It took seven thousand years
+to build your shell, and only a minute to destroy it. There was something
+fascinating in the thought. A reckless spirit pervaded Jane, a longing to
+burst through this shell of hers and ride the thunderbolt. Monotony--that
+had been her portion, and only her dreams had kept her from withering.
+From the house to the hospital and back home again, days, weeks, years.
+She had begun to hate white; her soul thirsted for colour, movement,
+thrill. The call that had been walled in, suppressed, broke through.
+Piracy on high seas, and Jane Norman in the cast!
+
+She was not in the least afraid of the whimsical rogue opposite. He was
+more like an uninvited dinner guest. Perhaps this lack of fear had its
+origin in the oily smoothness by which the yacht had changed hands. Beyond
+the subjugation of Dodge, there had not been a ripple of commotion. It was
+too early to touch the undercurrents. All this lulled and deceived her.
+Piracy? Where were the cutlasses, the fierce moustaches, the red
+bandannas, the rattle of dice, and the drunken songs?--the piracy of
+tradition? If she had any fear at all it was for the man at her
+left--Denny--who might run amuck on her account and spoil everything. All
+her life she would hear the father's voice--"The jam and the cheese,
+Togo." What men, all three of them!
+
+Cunningham laid his napkin on the table and stood up.
+
+"Absolute personal liberty, if you will accept the situation sensibly."
+
+Dennison glowered at him, but Jane reached out and touched the soldier's
+sleeve.
+
+"Please!"
+
+"For your sake, then. But it's tough medicine for me to swallow."
+
+"To be sure it is," agreed the rogue. "Look upon me as a supercargo for
+the next ten days. You'll see me only at lunch and dinner. I've a lot of
+work to do in the chart house. By the way, the wireless man is mine,
+Cleigh, so don't waste any time on him. Hope you're a good sailor, Miss
+Norman, for we are heading into rough weather, and we haven't much beam."
+
+"I love the sea!"
+
+"Hang it, you and I shan't have any trouble! Good-night."
+
+Cunningham limped to the door, where he turned and eyed the elder Cleigh,
+who was stirring his coffee thoughtfully. Suddenly the rogue burst into a
+gale of laughter, and they could hear recurrent bursts as he wended his
+way to the companion.
+
+When this sound died away Cleigh turned his glance levelly upon Jane. The
+stone-like mask dissolved into something that was pathetically human.
+
+"Miss Norman," he said, "I don't know what we are heading into, but if we
+ever get clear I will make any reparation you may demand."
+
+"Any kind of a reparation?"--an eager note in her voice.
+
+Dennison stared at her, puzzled, but almost instantly he was conscious of
+the warmth of shame in his cheeks. This girl wasn't that sort--to ask for
+money as a balm for the indignity offered her. What was she after?
+
+"Any kind of reparation," repeated Cleigh.
+
+"I'll remember that--if we get through. And somehow I believe we shall."
+
+"You trust that scoundrel?" asked Cleigh, astonishedly.
+
+"Inexplicably--yes."
+
+"Because he happens to be handsome?"--with frank irony.
+
+"No." But she looked at the son as she spoke. "He said he never broke his
+word. No man can be a very great villain who can say that. Did he ever
+break his word to you?"
+
+"Except in this instance."
+
+"The beads?"
+
+"I am quite confident he knows where they are."
+
+"Are they so precious? What makes them precious?"
+
+"I have told you--they are love beads."
+
+"That's rank nonsense! I'm no child!"
+
+"Isn't love rank nonsense?" Cleigh countered. He was something of a
+banterer himself.
+
+"Have you never loved anybody?" she shot back at him.
+
+A shadow passed over the man's face, clearing the ironic expression.
+
+"Perhaps I loved not wisely but too well."
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean----"
+
+"You are young; all about you is sunshine; I myself have gone down among
+the shadows. Cunningham may keep his word; but there is always the
+possibility of his not being able to keep it. He has become an outlaw; he
+is in maritime law a pirate. The crew are aware of it; prison stares them
+in the face, and that may make them reckless. If you weren't on board I
+shouldn't care. But you are young, vital, attractive, of the type that
+appeals to strong men. In the dry stores there are many cases of liquor
+and wine. The men may break into the stuff before we reach the Catwick.
+That will take ten or twelve days if Cunningham lays a course outside
+Formosa. What's his game? I don't know. Probably he will maroon us on the
+Catwick, an island I know nothing about, except that it is nearer to
+Saigon than to Singapore. So then in the daytime stay where I am or where
+Captain Dennison is. Good-night."
+
+Dennison balanced his spoon on the rim of the coffee cup--not a
+particularly easy job.
+
+"Whatever shall I do with the jade?" Jane asked, irrelevantly.
+
+"What?"
+
+"The jade necklace. That poor Chinaman!"
+
+"Ling Foo? I wish I had broken his infernal yellow neck! But for him
+neither of us would be here. But he is right," Dennison added, with a jerk
+of his head toward the door. "You must always be with one or the other of
+us--preferably me." He smiled.
+
+"Will you promise me one thing?"
+
+"Denny."
+
+"Will you promise me one thing, Denny?"
+
+"And that is not to attempt to mix it with the scoundrel?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I promise--so long as he keeps his. But if he touches you--well, God help
+him!"
+
+"And me! Oh, I don't mean him. It is you that I am afraid of. You're so
+terribly strong--and--and so heady. I can never forget how you went into
+that mob of quarrelling troopers. But you were an officer there; your
+uniform doesn't count here. If only you and your father stood together!"
+
+"We do so far as you are concerned. Never doubt that. Otherwise, though,
+it's hopeless. What are you going to demand of him--supposing we come
+through safely?"
+
+"That's my secret. Let's go on deck."
+
+"It's raining hard, and there'll be a good deal of pitching shortly.
+Better turn in. You've been through enough to send the average woman into
+hysterics."
+
+"It won't be possible to sleep."
+
+"I grant that, but I'd rather you would go at once to your cabin."
+
+"I wonder if you will understand. I'm not really afraid. I know I ought to
+be, but I'm not. All my life has been a series of humdrum--and here is
+adventure, stupendous adventure!" She rose abruptly, holding out her arms
+dramatically toward space. "All my life I have lived in a shell, and
+chance has cracked it. If only you knew how wonderfully free I feel at
+this moment! I want to go on deck, to feel the wind and the rain in my
+face!"
+
+"Go to bed," he said, prosaically.
+
+Though never had she appeared so poignantly desirable. He wanted to seize
+her in his arms, smother her with kisses, bury his face in her hair. And
+swiftly upon this desire came the thought that if she appealed to him so
+strongly, might she not appeal quite as strongly to the rogue? He laid the
+spoon on the rim of the cup again and teetered it.
+
+"Go to bed," he repeated.
+
+"An order?"
+
+"An order. I'll go along with you to the cabin. Come!" He got up.
+
+"Can you tell me you're not excited?"
+
+"I am honestly terrified. I'd give ten years of my life if you were safely
+out of this. For seven long years I have been knocking about this world,
+and among other things I have learned that plans like Cunningham's never
+get through per order. I don't know what the game is, but it's bound to
+fail. So I'm going to ask you, in God's name, not to let any romantical
+ideas get into your head. This is bad business for all of us."
+
+There was something in his voice, aside from the genuine seriousness, that
+subdued her.
+
+"I'll go to bed. Shall we have breakfast together?"
+
+"Better that way."
+
+To reach the port passage they had to come out into the main salon. Cleigh
+was in his corner reading.
+
+"Good-night," she called. All her bitterness toward him was gone. "And
+don't worry about me."
+
+"Good-night," replied Cleigh over the top of the book. "Be sure of your
+door. If you hear any untoward sounds in the night call to the captain
+whose cabin adjoins yours."
+
+When she and Dennison arrived at the door of her cabin she turned
+impulsively and gave him both her hands. He held them lightly, because his
+emotions were at full tide, and he did not care to have her sense it in
+any pressure. Her confidence in him now was absolute, and he must guard
+himself constantly. Poor fool! Why hadn't he told her that last night on
+the British transport? What had held him back?
+
+The uncertain future--he had let that rise up between. And now he could
+not tell her. If she did not care, if her regard did not go beyond
+comradeship, the knowledge would only distress her.
+
+The yacht was beginning to roll now, for they were making the East China
+Sea. The yacht rolled suddenly to starboard, and Jane fell against him. He
+caught her, instantly turned her right about and gently but firmly forced
+her into the cabin.
+
+"Good-night. Remember! Rap on the partition if you hear anything you don't
+like."
+
+"I promise."
+
+After she had locked and latched the door she set about the business of
+emptying her kit bags. She hung the evening gown she had worn all day in
+the locker, laid her toilet articles on the dresser, and set the brass
+hand warmer on the lowboy. Then she let down her hair and began to brush
+it. She swung a thick strand of it over her shoulder and ran her hand down
+under it. The woman in "Phra the Phoenician," Allori's Judith--and she had
+always hated the colour of it! She once more applied the brush, balancing
+herself nicely to meet the ever-increasing roll.
+
+Nevertheless, she did feel free, freer than she had felt in all her life
+before. A stupendous adventure! After the braids were completed she flung
+them down her back, turned off the light, and peered out of the
+rain-blurred port. She could see nothing except an occasional flash of
+angry foam as it raced past. She slipped into bed, but her eyes remained
+open for a long time.
+
+Dennison wondered if there would be a slicker in his old locker. He opened
+the door. He found an oilskin and a yellow sou'wester on the hooks. He
+took them down and put them on and stole out carefully, a hand extended
+each side to minimize the roll. He navigated the passage and came out into
+the salon.
+
+Cleigh was still immersed in his book. He looked up quickly, but
+recognizing the intruder, dropped his gaze instantly. Dennison crossed the
+salon to the companionway and staggered up the steps. Had his father ever
+really been afraid of anything? He could not remember ever having seen the
+old boy in the grip of fear. What a devil of a world it was!
+
+Dennison was an able seaman. He had been brought up on the sea--seven
+years on the first _Wanderer_ and five on the second. He had, in company
+with his father, ridden the seven seas. But he had no trade; he hadn't the
+money instinct; he would have to stumble upon fortune; he knew no way of
+making it. And this knowledge stirred his rancor anew--the father hadn't
+played fair with the son.
+
+He gripped the deck-house rail to steady himself, for the wind and rain
+caught him head-on.
+
+Then he worked his way slowly along to the bridge. Twice a comber broke on
+the quarter and dropped a ton of water, which sloshed about the deck,
+drenching his feet. He climbed the ladder, rather amused at the recurrence
+of an old thought--that climbing ship ladders in dirty weather was a good
+deal like climbing in nightmares: one weighed thousands of pounds and had
+feet of lead.
+
+Presently he peered into the chart room, which was dark except for the
+small hooded bulbs over the navigating instruments. He could see the chin
+and jaws of the wheelman and the beard of old Captain Newton. From time to
+time a wheel spoke came into the light.
+
+On the chart table lay a pocket lamp, facing sternward, the light pouring
+upon what looked to be a map; and over it were bent three faces, one of
+which was Cunningham's. A forefinger was tracing this map.
+
+Dennison opened the door and stepped inside.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+"How are you making out, Newton?" he asked, calmly.
+
+"Denny? Why, God bless me, boy, I'm glad to see you! How's your dad?"
+
+"Reading."
+
+"That would be like him. I don't suppose if hell opened under his feet
+he'd do anything except look interested. And it 'pears to me's though hell
+had opened up right now!"
+
+A chuckle came from the chart table.
+
+"What's your idea of hell, Newton?" asked Cunningham.
+
+"Anything you might have a hand in," was the return bolt.
+
+"Why, you used to like me!"
+
+"Yes, yes! But I didn't know you then. The barometer's dropping. If it was
+August I'd say we were nosing into a typhoon. I always hated this yellow
+muck they call a sea over here. Did you pick up that light?"
+
+"Yes, sir," answered the wheelman. "I take it she's making
+south--Hong-Kong way. There's plenty of sea room. She'll be well down
+before we cross her wake."
+
+Silence except for the rumble of the weather canvas standing up against
+the furious blasts of the wind. Dennison stepped over to the chart table.
+
+"Cunningham, I would like to have a word with you."
+
+"Go ahead. You can have as many as you like."
+
+"At dinner you spoke of your word."
+
+"So I did. What about it?"
+
+"Do you keep it?"
+
+"Whenever I humanly can. Well?"
+
+"What's this Catwick Island?"
+
+"Hanged if I know!"
+
+"Are you going to maroon us there?"
+
+"No. At that point the yacht will be turned back to your father, and he
+can cruise until the crack o' doom without further interference from yours
+truly."
+
+"That's your word?"
+
+"It is--and I will keep it. Anything else?"
+
+"Yes. I will play the game as it lies, provided that Miss Norman is in
+nowise interfered with or annoyed."
+
+"How is she taking it?"
+
+"My reply first."
+
+"Neither I nor the crew will bother her. She shall come and go free as the
+gull in the air. If at any time the men do not observe the utmost
+politeness toward her you will do me a favour to report to me. That's my
+word, and I promise to keep it, even if I have to kill a man or two. I
+wish to come through clean in the hands so far as your father, Miss
+Norman, and yourself are concerned. I'm risking my neck and my liberty,
+for this is piracy on the high seas. But every man is entitled to one good
+joke during his lifetime, and when we raise the Catwick I'll explain this
+joke in full. If you don't chuckle, then you haven't so much as a grain of
+humour in your make-up."
+
+"Well, there's nothing for me to do but take your word as you give it."
+
+"That's the way to talk. Now, Flint, this bay or lagoon----"
+
+The voice dropped into a low, indistinguishable murmur. Dennison realized
+that the moment had come to depart; the edge of the encounter was in
+Cunningham's favour and to remain would only serve to sharpen this edge.
+So he went outside, slamming the door behind him.
+
+The word of a rogue! There was now nothing to do but turn in. He believed
+he had a glimmer. Somewhere off the Catwick Cunningham and his crew were
+to be picked up. He would not be going to the Catwick himself, not
+knowing whether it was jungle or bald rock. But if a ship was to pick him
+up, why hadn't she made Shanghai and picked him up there? Why commit
+piracy--unless he was a colossal liar, which Dennison was ready enough to
+believe. The word of a rogue!
+
+Some private war? Was Cunningham paying off an old grudge? But was any
+grudge worth this risk? The old boy wasn't to be scared; Cunningham ought
+to have known that. If Cleigh came through with a whole skin he'd hunt the
+beggar down if it carried him to the North Pole. Cunningham ought to have
+known that, too. A planted crew, piracy--and he, Dennison Cleigh, was
+eventually to chuckle over it! He had his doubts. And where did the glass
+beads come in? Or had Cunningham spoken the truth--a lure? A big game
+somewhere in the offing. And the rogue was right! The world, dizzily
+stewing in a caldron of monumental mistakes, would give scant attention to
+an off-side play such as this promised to be. Not a handhold anywhere to
+the puzzle. The old boy might have the key, but Dennison Cleigh could not
+go to him for the solution.
+
+His own father! Just as he had become used to the idea that the separation
+was final, absolute, to be thrown together in this fantastic manner! The
+father's arm under his neck and the cup at his lips had shaken him
+profoundly. But Cleigh would not have denied a dog drink had the dog
+exhibited signs of thirst. So nothing could be drawn from that.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Morning. Jane opened her eyes, only to shut them quickly. The white
+brilliancy of the cabin hurt. Across the ceiling ran a constant flicker of
+silver--reflected sunshine on the water. Southward--they were heading
+southward. She jumped out of bed and stepped over to the port. Flashing
+yellow water, a blue sky, and far off the oddly ribbed sails of a Chinese
+junk labouring heavily in the big sea that was still running. Glorious!
+
+She dressed hurriedly and warmly, bundling her hair under a velours hat
+and ramming a pin through both.
+
+"Denny?" she called.
+
+There was no answer. He was on deck, probably.
+
+An odd scene awaited her in the main salon. Cleigh, senior, stood before
+the phonograph listening to Caruso. The roll of the yacht in nowise
+disturbed the mechanism of the instrument. There was no sudden sluing of
+the needle, due to an amateurish device which Cleigh himself had
+constructed. The son, stooping, was searching the titles of a row of new
+novels. The width of the salon stretched between the two.
+
+"Good morning, everybody!"
+
+There was a joyousness in her voice she made not the least attempt to
+conceal. She was joyous, alive, and she did not care who knew it.
+
+Dennison acknowledged her greeting with a smile, a smile which was a
+mixture of wonder and admiration. How in the world was she to be made to
+understand that they were riding a deep-sea volcano?
+
+"Nothing disturbed you through the night?" asked Cleigh, lifting the pin
+from the record.
+
+"Nothing. I lay awake for an hour or two, but after that I slept like a
+log. Have I kept you waiting?"
+
+"No. Breakfast isn't quite ready," answered Cleigh.
+
+"What makes the sea so yellow?"
+
+"All the big Chinese rivers are mud-banked and mud-bottomed. They pour
+millions of tons of yellow mud into these waters. By this afternoon,
+however, I imagine we'll be nosing into the blue. Ah!"
+
+"Breakfast iss served," announced Togo the Jap.
+
+The trio entered the dining salon in single file, and once more Jane found
+herself seated between the two men. One moment she was carrying on a
+conversation with the father, the next moment with the son. The two
+ignored each other perfectly. Under ordinary circumstances it would have
+been strange enough; but in this hour, when no one knew where or how this
+voyage would end! A real tragedy or some absurd trifle? Probably a trifle;
+trifles dug more pits than tragedies. Perhaps tragedy was mis-named. What
+humans called tragedy was epic, and trifles were real tragedies. And then
+there were certain natures to whom the trifle was epical; to whom the
+inconsequent was invariably magnified nine diameters; and having made a
+mistake, would die rather than admit it.
+
+To bring these two together, to lure them from behind their ramparts of
+stubbornness, to see them eventually shake hands and grin as men will who
+recognize that they have been playing the fool! She became fired with the
+idea. Only she must not move prematurely; there must arrive some
+psychological moment.
+
+During the meal, toward the end of it, one of the crew entered. He was
+young--in the early twenties. The manner in which he saluted convinced
+Dennison that the fellow had recently been in the United States Navy.
+
+"Mr. Cunningham's compliments, sir. Canvas has been rigged on the port
+promenade and chairs and rugs set out."
+
+Another salute and he was off.
+
+"Well, that's decent enough," was Dennison's comment. "That chap has been
+in the Navy. It's all miles over my head, I'll confess. Cunningham spoke
+of a joke when I accosted him in the chart house last night."
+
+"You went up there?" cried Jane.
+
+"Yes. And among other things he said that every man is entitled to at
+least one good joke. What the devil can he mean by that?"
+
+Had he been looking at his father Dennison would have caught a fleeting,
+grim, shadowy smile on the strong mouth.
+
+"You will find a dozen new novels on the shelves, Miss Norman," said
+Cleigh as he rose. "I'll be on deck. I generally walk two or three miles
+in the morning. Let us hang together this day to test the scalawag's
+promise."
+
+"Mr. Cleigh, when you spoke of reparation last night, you weren't thinking
+in monetary terms, were you?"
+
+Cleigh's brows lowered a trifle, but it was the effect of puzzlement.
+
+"Because," she proceeded, gravely, "all the money you possess would not
+compensate me for the position you have placed me in."
+
+"Well, perhaps I did have money in mind. However, I hold to my word.
+Anything you may ask."
+
+"Some day I will ask you for something."
+
+"And if humanly possible I promise to give it," and with this Cleigh took
+leave.
+
+Jane turned to Dennison.
+
+"It is so strange and incomprehensible! You two sitting here and ignoring
+each other! Surely you don't hate your father?"
+
+"I have the greatest respect and admiration for him. To you no doubt it
+seems fantastic; but we understand each other thoroughly, my father and I.
+I'd take his hand instantly, God knows, if he offered it! But if I offered
+mine it would be glass against diamond--I'd only get badly scratched.
+Suppose we go on deck? The air and the sunshine----"
+
+"But this catastrophe has brought you together after all these years.
+Isn't there something providential in that?"
+
+"Who can say?"
+
+On deck they fell in behind Cleigh, and followed him round for fully an
+hour; then Jane signified that she was tired, and Dennison put her in the
+centre chair and wrapped the rug about her. He selected the chair at her
+right.
+
+Jane shut her eyes, and Dennison opened a novel. It was good reading, and
+he became partially absorbed. The sudden creak of a chair brought his
+glance round. His father had seated himself in the vacant chair.
+
+The phase that dug in and hurt was that his father made no endeavour to
+avoid him--simply ignored his existence. Seven years and not a crack in
+the granite! He laid the book on his knees and stared at the rocking
+horizon.
+
+One of the crew passed. Cleigh hailed him.
+
+"Send Mr. Cleve to me."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+The air and the tone of the man were perfectly respectful.
+
+When Cleve, the first officer, appeared his manner was solicitous.
+
+"Are you comfortable, sir?"
+
+"Would ten thousand dollars interest you?" said Cleigh, directly.
+
+"If you mean to come over to your side, no. My life wouldn't be worth a
+snap of the thumb. You know something about Dick Cunningham. I know him
+well. The truth is, Mr. Cleigh, we're off on a big gamble, and if we win
+out ten thousand wouldn't interest me. Life on board will be exactly as it
+was before you put into Shanghai. More I am not at liberty to tell you."
+
+"How far is the Catwick?"
+
+"Somewhere round two thousand--eight or nine days, perhaps ten. We're not
+piling on--short of coal. It's mighty difficult to get it for a private
+yacht. You may not find a bucketful in Singapore. In America you can
+always commandeer it, having ships and coal mines of your own. The drop
+down to Singapore from the Catwick is about forty hours. You have coal in
+Manila. You can cable for it."
+
+"You are honestly leaving us at that island?"
+
+"Yes, sir. You can, if you wish, take the run up to Saigon; but your
+chance for coal there is nil."
+
+"Cleve," said Cleigh, solemnly, "you appreciate the risks you are
+running?"
+
+"Mr. Cleigh, there are no risks. It's a dead certainty. Cunningham is one
+of your efficiency experts. Everything has been thought of."
+
+"Except fate," supplemented Cleigh.
+
+"Fate? Why, she's our chief engineer!"
+
+Cleve turned away, chuckling; a dozen feet off this chuckle became
+boisterous laughter.
+
+"What can they be after? Sunken treasure?" cried Jane, excitedly.
+
+"Hangman's hemp--if I live long enough," was the grim declaration, and
+Cleigh drew the rug over his knees.
+
+"But it can't be anything dreadful if they can laugh over it!"
+
+"Did you ever hear Mephisto laugh in Faust? Cunningham is a queer duck. I
+don't suppose there's a corner on the globe he hasn't had a peek at. He
+has a vast knowledge of the arts. His real name nobody seems to know. He
+can make himself very likable to men and attractive to women. The sort of
+women he seeks do not mind his physical deformity. His face and his
+intellect draw them, and he is as cruel as a wolf. It never occurred to me
+until last night that men like me create his kind. But I don't understand
+him in this instance. A play like this, with all the future risks! After I
+get the wires moving he won't be able to stir a hundred miles in any
+direction."
+
+"But so long as he doesn't intend to harm us--and I'm convinced he
+doesn't--perhaps we'd better play the game as he asks us to."
+
+"Miss Norman," said Cleigh in a tired voice, "will you do me the favour to
+ask Captain Dennison why he has never touched the twenty thousand I
+deposited to his account?"
+
+Astonished, Jane turned to Dennison to repeat the question, but was
+forestalled.
+
+"Tell Mr. Cleigh that to touch a dollar of that money would be a tacit
+admission that Mr. Cleigh had the right to strike Captain Dennison across
+the mouth."
+
+Dennison swung out of the chair and strode off toward the bridge, his
+shoulders flat and his neck stiff.
+
+"You struck him?" demanded Jane, impulsively.
+
+But Cleigh did not answer. His eyes were closed, his head rested against
+the back of the chair so Jane did not press the question. It was enough
+that she had seen behind a corner of this peculiar veil. And, oddly, she
+felt quite as much pity for the father as for the son. A wall of pride,
+Alpine high, and neither would force a passage!
+
+They did not see the arch rogue during the day, but he came in to dinner.
+He was gay--in a story-telling mood. There was little or no banter, for he
+spoke only to Jane, and gave her flashes of some of his amazing activities
+in search of art treasures. He had once been chased up and down Japan by
+the Mikado's agents for having in his possession some royal-silk tapestry
+which it is forbidden to take out of the country. Another time he had gone
+into Tibet for a lama's ghost mask studded with raw emeralds and
+turquoise, and had suffered untold miseries in getting down into India.
+Again he had entered a Rajput haremlik as a woman, and eventually escaped
+with the fabulous rug which hung in the salon. Adventure, adventure, and
+death always at his elbow! There was nothing of the braggart in the man;
+he recounted his tales after the manner of a boy relating some college
+escapades, deprecatingly.
+
+Often Jane stole a glance at one or the other of the Cleighs. She was
+constantly swung between--but never touched--the desire to laugh and the
+desire to weep over this tragedy, which seemed so futile.
+
+"Why don't you write a book about these adventures?" she asked.
+
+"A book? No time," said Cunningham. "Besides, the moment one of these
+trips is over it ends; I can recount it only sketchily."
+
+"But even sketchily it would be tremendously interesting. It is as if you
+were playing a game with death for the mere sport of it."
+
+"Maybe that hits it, though I've never stopped to analyze. I never think
+of death; it is a waste of gray matter. I should be no nearer death in
+Tibet than I should be asleep in a cradle. Why bother about the absolute,
+the inevitable? Humanity wears itself out building bridges for imaginary
+torrents. I am an exception; that is why I shall be young and handsome up
+to the moment the grim stalker puts his claw on my shoulder."
+
+He smiled whimsically.
+
+"But you, have you never caught some of the passion for possessing rare
+paintings, rugs, manuscripts?"
+
+"You miss the point. What does the sense of possession amount to beside
+the sense of seeking and finding? Cleigh here thinks he is having a thrill
+when he signs a check. It is to laugh!"
+
+"Have you ever killed a man?" It was one of those questions that leap
+forth irresistibly. Jane was a bit frightened at her temerity.
+
+Cunningham drank his coffee deliberately.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+Jane shrank back a little.
+
+"But never willfully," Cunningham added--"always in self-defence, and
+never a white man."
+
+There was a peculiar phase about the man's singular beauty. Animated, it
+was youthful; in grim repose, it was sad and old.
+
+"Death!" said Jane in a kind of awed whisper. "I have watched many die,
+and I cannot get over the terror of it. Here is a man with all the
+faculties, physical and mental; a human being, loving, hating, working,
+sleeping; and in an instant he is nothing!"
+
+"A Chinaman once said that the thought of death is as futile as water in
+the hand. By the way, Cleigh--and you too, captain--give the wireless a
+wide berth. There's death there."
+
+Jane saw the fire opals leap into the dark eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+The third day out they were well below Formosa, which had been turned on a
+wide arc. The sea was blue now, quiescent, waveless; there was only the
+eternal roll. Still Jane could not help comparing the sea with the
+situation--the devil was slumbering. What if he waked?
+
+Time after time she tried to force her thoughts into the reality of this
+remarkable cruise, but it was impossible. Romance was always smothering
+her, edging her off, when she approached the sinister. Perhaps if she had
+heard ribald songs, seen evidence of drunkenness; if the crew had loitered
+about and been lacking in respect, she would have been able to grasp the
+actuality; but so far the idea persisted that this could not be anything
+more than a pleasure cruise. Piracy? Where was it?
+
+So she measured her actions accordingly, read, played the phonograph, went
+here and there over the yacht, often taking her stand in the bow and
+peering down the cutwater to watch the antics of some humorous porpoise or
+to follow the smother of spray where the flying fish broke. In fact, she
+conducted herself exactly as she would have done on board a passenger
+ship. There were moments when she was honestly bored.
+
+Piracy! This was an established fact. Cunningham and his men had stepped
+outside the pale of law in running off with the _Wanderer_. But piracy
+without drunken disorder, piracy that wiped its feet on the doormat and
+hung its hat on the rack! There was a touch of the true farce in it.
+Hadn't Cunningham himself confessed that the whole affair was a joke?
+
+Round two o'clock on the afternoon of the third day Jane, for the moment
+alone in her chair, heard the phonograph--the sextet from Lucia. She left
+her chair, looked down through the open transom and discovered Dennison
+cranking the machine. He must have seen her shadow, for he glanced up
+quickly.
+
+He crooked a finger which said, "Come on down!" She made a negative sign
+and withdrew her head.
+
+Here she was again on the verge of wild laughter. Donizetti! Pirates!
+Glass beads for which Cleigh had voyaged sixteen thousand miles! A father
+and son who ignored each other! She choked down this desire to laugh,
+because she was afraid it might end suddenly in hysteria and tears. She
+returned to her chair, and there was the father arranging himself
+comfortably. He had a book.
+
+"Would you like me to read a while to you?" she offered.
+
+"Will you? You see," he confessed, "I'm troubled with insomnia. If I read
+by myself I only become interested in the book, but if someone reads aloud
+it makes me drowsy."
+
+"As a nurse I've done that hundreds of times. But frankly, I can't read
+poetry; I begin to sing-song it at once; it becomes rime without reason.
+What is the book?"
+
+Cleigh extended it to her. The moment her hands touched the volume she saw
+that she was holding something immeasurably precious. The form was unlike
+the familiar shapes of modern books. The covers consisted of exquisitely
+hand-tooled calf bound by thongs; there was a subtle perfume as she opened
+them. Illuminated vellum. She uttered a pleasurable little gasp.
+
+"The Song of Songs, which is Solomon's," she read.
+
+"Fifteenth century--the vellum. The Florentine covers were probably added
+in the seventeenth. I have four more downstairs. They are museum pieces,
+as we say."
+
+"That is to say, priceless?"
+
+"After a fashion."
+
+"'Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it; if a
+man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly
+be contemned!'"
+
+"Why did you select that?"
+
+"I didn't select it; I remembered it--because it is true."
+
+"You have a very pleasant voice. Go on--read."
+
+Thus for an hour she read to him, and by the time she grew tired Cleigh
+was sound asleep. The look of granite was gone from his face, and she saw
+that he, too, had been handsome in his youth. Why had he struck Denny on
+the mouth? What had the son done so to enrage the father? Some woman! And
+where had she met the man? Oh, she was certain that she had encountered
+him before! But for the present the gate to recollection refused to swing
+outward. Gently she laid the beautiful book on his knees and stole over to
+the rail. For a while she watched the flying fish.
+
+Then came one of those impulses which keep human beings from becoming half
+gods--a wrong impulse, surrendered to immediately, unweighed, unanalyzed,
+unchallenged. The father asleep, the son amusing himself with the
+phonograph, she was now unobserved by her guardians; and so she put into
+execution the thought that had been urging and intriguing her since the
+strange voyage began--a visit to the chart house. She wanted to ask
+Cunningham some questions. He would know something about the Cleighs.
+
+The port door to the chart house was open, latched back against the side.
+She hesitated for a moment outside the high-beamed threshold--hesitated
+because Captain Newton was not visible. The wheelman was alone. Obliquely
+she saw Cunningham, Cleve, and a third man seated round a table which was
+littered. This third man sat facing the port door, and sensing her
+presence he looked up. Rather attractive until one noted the thin, hard
+lips, the brilliant blue eyes. At the sight of Jane something flitted over
+his face, and Jane knew that he was bad.
+
+"What's the matter, Flint?" asked Cunningham, observing the other's
+abstraction.
+
+"We have a visitor," answered Flint.
+
+Cunningham spun his chair round and jumped to his feet.
+
+"Miss Norman? Come in, come in! Anything you need?" he asked with lively
+interest.
+
+"I should like to ask you some questions, Mr. Cunningham."
+
+"Oh! Well, if I can answer them, I will."
+
+He looked significantly at his companions, who rose and left the house by
+the starboard door.
+
+"They can't keep away from him, can they?" said Flint, cynically.
+"Slue-Foot has the come-hither, sure enough. I had an idea she'd be hiking
+this way the first chance she got."
+
+"You haven't the right dope this trip," replied Cleve. "The contract
+reads: Hands off women and booze."
+
+"Psalm-singing pirates! We'll be having prayers Sunday. But that woman is
+my style."
+
+"Better begin digging up a prayer if you've got that bug in your head. If
+you make any fool play in that direction Cunningham will break you. I saw
+you last night staring through the transom. Watch your step, Flint. I'm
+telling you."
+
+"But if she should happen to take a fancy to me, who shall say no?"
+
+"Hate yourself, eh? There was liquor on your breath last night. Did you
+bring some aboard?"
+
+"What's that to you?"
+
+"It's a whole lot to me, my bucko--to me and to the rest of the boys.
+Cleigh will not prosecute us for piracy if we play a decent game until we
+raise the Catwick. On old Van Dorn's tub we can drink and sing if we want
+to. If Cunningham gets a whiff of your breath, when you've had it, you'll
+get yours. Most of the boys have never done anything worse than apple
+stealing. It was the adventure. All keyed up for war and no place to go,
+and this was a kind of safety valve. Already half of them are beginning to
+knock in the knees. Game, understand, but now worried about the future."
+
+"A peg or two before turning in won't hurt anybody. I'm not touching it in
+the daytime."
+
+"Keep away from him when you do--that's all. We're depending on you and
+Cunningham to pull through. If you two get to scrapping the whole business
+will go blooey. If we play the game according to contract there's a big
+chance of getting back to the States without having the sheriff on the
+dock to meet us. But if you mess it up because an unexpected stroke put a
+woman on board, you'll end up as shark bait."
+
+"Maybe I will and maybe I won't," was the truculent rejoinder.
+
+"Lord!" said Cleve, a vast discouragement in his tone. "You lay a course
+as true and fine as a hair, and run afoul a rotting derelict in the
+night!"
+
+Flint laughed.
+
+"Oh, I shan't make any trouble. I'll say my prayers regular until we make
+shore finally. The agreement was to lay off the Cleigh booze. I brought on
+board only a couple of quarts, and they'll be gone before we raise the
+Catwick. But if I feel like talking to the woman I'll do it."
+
+"It's your funeral, not mine," was the ominous comment. "You've been on
+the beach once too often, Flint, to play a game like this straight. But
+Cunningham had to have you, because you know the Malay lingo. Remember, he
+isn't afraid of anything that walks on two feet or four."
+
+"Neither am I--when I want anything. But glass beads!"
+
+"That was only a lure for Cleigh, who'd go round the world for any curio
+he was interested in."
+
+"That's what I mean. If it were diamonds or pearls or rubies, all well and
+good. But a string of glass beads! The old duffer is a nut!"
+
+"Maybe he is. But if you had ten or twelve millions, what would you do?"
+
+"Jump for Prome and foot it to the silk bazaar, where there are three or
+four of the prettiest Burmese girls you ever laid your eyes on. Then I'd
+buy the Galle Face Hotel in Colombo and close it to the public."
+
+"And in five years--the old beach again!"
+
+Flint scowled at the oily, heaving rolls, brassy and dazzling. He was
+bored. For twelve weeks he had circled the dull round of ship routine,
+with never shore leave that was long enough for an ordinary drinking bout.
+He was bored stiff. Suddenly his thin lips broke into a smile. Cleve,
+noting the smile, divined something of the impellent thought behind that
+smile, and he grew uneasy. He recalled his own expression of a few moments
+gone--the unreckoned derelict.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Thank you for coming up," said Cunningham. "It makes me feel that you
+trust me."
+
+"I want to," admitted Jane.
+
+A disturbing phenomenon. Always there was a quickening of her heart-beats
+at the beginning of each encounter with this unusual gentleman rover. It
+was no longer fear. What was it? Was it the face of him, too strong and
+vital for a woman's, too handsome for a man's? Was it his dark, fiery eye
+which was always reversing what his glib tongue said? Some hidden
+magnetism? Alone, the thought of him was recurrent, no matter how
+resolutely she cast it forth. Even now she could not honestly say whether
+she was here to ask questions of Cunningham or of herself. Perhaps it was
+because he was the unknown, whereas Denny was for the most part as
+readable as an open book. The one like the forest stream, sometimes
+turbulent but always clear; the other like the sea through which they
+plowed, smooth, secret, ominous.
+
+"Do your guardians know where you are?"--raillery in his voice.
+
+"No. I came to ask some questions."
+
+"Curiosity. Sit down. What is it you wish to know?"
+
+"All this--and what will be the end?"
+
+"Well, doubtless there will be an end, but I'm not seer enough to foretell
+it."
+
+"Then you have some doubts?"
+
+"Only those that beset all of us."
+
+"But somehow--well, you don't seem to belong to this sort of game."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Unexpectedly he had set a wall between. She had no answer, and her
+embarrassment was visible on her cheeks.
+
+"Here and there across the world rough men call me Slue-Foot. Perhaps my
+deformity has reacted upon my soul and twisted that. Perhaps if my
+countenance had been homely and rugged I would have walked the beaten
+paths of respectability. But the two together!"
+
+"I'm sorry!"
+
+"A woman such as you are would be. You are a true daughter of the great
+mother--Pity. But I have never asked pity of any. I have asked only that a
+man shall keep his word to me as I will keep mine to him."
+
+"But you are risking your liberty, perhaps your life!"
+
+"I've been risking that for more than twenty years. The habit has become
+normal. All my life I've wanted a real adventure."
+
+She gazed at him in utter astonishment.
+
+"An adventure? Why, you yourself told me that you had risked your life a
+hundred times!"
+
+"That?"--with a smile and a shrug. "That was business, the day's work. I
+mean an adventure in which I am accountable to no man."
+
+"Only to God?"
+
+"Well, of course, if you want it that way. For myself, I'm something of a
+pagan. I have dreamed of this day. When you were a little girl didn't you
+dream of a wonderful doll that could walk and make almost human noises?
+Well, I'm realizing my doll. I am going pearl hunting in the South
+Seas--the thing I dreamed of when I was a boy."
+
+"But why commit piracy? Why didn't you hire a steamer?"
+
+"Oh, I must have my joke, too. But I hadn't counted on you. In every
+campaign there is the hollow road of Ohain. Napoleon lost Waterloo because
+of it. Your presence here has forced me to use a hand without velvet.
+These men expected a little fun--cards and drink; and some of them are
+grumbling with discontent. But don't worry. In five days we'll be off on
+our own."
+
+"What is the joke?"
+
+"That will have to wait. For a few minutes I heard you reading to-day.
+Your voice is like a bell at sea in the evening. 'Many waters cannot
+quench love,'" he quoted, the flash of opals in his eyes, though his lips
+were smiling gently. "The Bible is a wonderful book. Its authors were
+poets who were not spoiled by the curse of rime. Does it amuse you to hear
+me talk of the Bible?--an unregenerate scalawag? Well, it is like this: I
+am something of an authority on illuminated manuscripts. I've had to wade
+through hundreds of them. That is the method by which I became acquainted
+with the Scriptures. The Song of Songs! Lord love you, if that isn't pure
+pagan, what is? I prefer the Proverbs. Ask Cleigh if he has that
+manuscript with him. It's in a remarkable state of preservation. Remember?
+'There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I
+know not: The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a
+rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with
+a maid.' Ask Cleigh to show you that."
+
+Cleigh! The name swung her back to the original purpose of this visit.
+
+"Do you know the Cleighs well?"
+
+"I know the father. He has the gift of strong men--unforgetting and
+unforgiving. I know little or nothing about the son, except that he is a
+chip of the old block. Queer twist in events, eh?"
+
+"Have you any idea what estranged them?"
+
+"Didn't know they were at outs until the night before we sailed. They
+don't speak?"
+
+"No. And it seems so utterly foolish!"
+
+"_Cherchez la femme!_"
+
+"You believe that was it?"
+
+"It is always so, always and eternally the woman. I don't mean that she is
+always to blame; I mean that she is always there--in the background. But
+you! I say, now, here's the job for you! Bring them together. That's your
+style. For weeks now you three will be together. Within that time you'll
+be able to twist both of them round your finger. I wonder if you realize
+it? You're not beautiful, but you are something better--splendid. Strong
+men will always be gravitating toward you, wanting comfort, peace. You're
+not the kind that sets men's hearts on fire, that makes absconders, fills
+the divorce courts, and all that. You're like a cool hand on a hot
+forehead. And you have a voice as sweet as a bell."
+
+Instinct--the female fear of the trap--warned Jane to be off, but
+curiosity held her to the chair. She was human; and this flattery, free of
+any suggestion of love-making, gave her a warming, pleasurable thrill.
+Still there was a fly in the amber. Every woman wishes to be credited with
+hidden fires, to possess equally the power to damn men as well as to save
+them.
+
+"Has there never been----"
+
+"A woman? Have I not just said there is always a woman?" He was sardonic
+now. "Mine, seeing me walk, laughed."
+
+"She wasn't worth it!"
+
+"No, she wasn't. But when we are twenty the heart is blind. So Cleigh and
+the boy don't speak?"
+
+"Cleigh hasn't injured you in any way, has he?"
+
+"Injured me? Of course not! I am only forced by circumstance--and an
+oblique sense of the comic--to make a convenience of him. And by the Lord
+Harry, it's up to you to help me out!"
+
+"I?"--bewildered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+Jane gazed through the doorway at the sea. There was apparently no
+horizon, no telling where the sea ended and the faded blue of the sky
+began. There was something about this sea she did not like. She was
+North-born. It seemed to her that there was really less to fear from the
+Atlantic fury than from these oily, ingratiating, rolling mounds. They
+were the Uriah Heep of waters. She knew how terrible they could be, far
+more terrible than the fiercest nor'easter down the Atlantic. Typhoon! How
+could a yacht live through a hurricane? She turned again toward
+Cunningham.
+
+"You are like that," she said, irrelevantly.
+
+"Like what?"
+
+"Like the sea."
+
+Cunningham rose and peered under the half-drawn blind.
+
+"That may be complimentary, but hanged if I know! Smooth?--is that what
+you mean?"
+
+"Kind of terrible."
+
+He sat down again.
+
+"That rather cuts. I might be terrible. I don't know--never met the
+occasion; but I do know that I'm not treacherous. You certainly are not
+afraid of me."
+
+"I don't exactly know. It's--it's too peaceful."
+
+"To last? I see. But it isn't as though I were forcing you to go through
+with the real voyage. Only a few days more, and you'll have seen the last
+of me."
+
+"I hope so."
+
+He chuckled.
+
+"What I meant was," she corrected, "that nothing might happen, nobody get
+hurt. Human beings can plan only so far."
+
+"That's true enough. Every programme is subject to immediate change. But,
+Lord, what a lot of programmes go through per schedule! Still, you are
+right. It all depends upon chance. We say a thing is cut and dried, but we
+can't prove it. But so far as I can see into the future, nothing is going
+to happen, nobody is going to walk the plank. Piracy on a basis of 2.75
+per cent.--the kick gone out of it! But if you can bring about the
+reconciliation of the Cleighs the old boy will not be so keen for chasing
+me all over the map when this job is done."
+
+"Will you tell me what those beads are?"
+
+"To be sure I will--all in due time. What does Cleigh call them?"
+
+"Love beads!" scornfully.
+
+"On my solemn word, that's exactly what they are."
+
+"Very well. But remember, you promise to tell me when the time comes."
+
+"That and other surprising things."
+
+"I'll be going."
+
+"Come up as often as you like."
+
+Cunningham accompanied her to the bridge ladder and remained until she was
+speeding along the deck; then he returned to his chart. But the chart was
+no longer able to hold his attention. So he levelled his gaze upon the
+swinging horizon and kept it there for a time. Odd fancy, picturing the
+girl on the bridge in a hurricane, her hair streaming out behind her, her
+fine body leaning on the wind. A shadow in the doorway broke in upon this
+musing. Cleigh.
+
+"Come in and sit down," invited Cunningham.
+
+But Cleigh ignored the invitation and stepped over to the steersman.
+
+"Has Miss Norman been in here?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"How long was she here?"
+
+"I don't know, sir; perhaps half an hour."
+
+Cleigh stalked to the door, but there he turned, and for the first time
+since Cunningham had taken the yacht Cleigh looked directly, with grim
+intentness, into his enemy's eyes.
+
+"Battle, murder, and sudden death!" Cunningham laughed. "You don't have to
+tell me, Cleigh! I can see it in your eyes. If Miss Norman wants to come
+here and ask questions, I'm the last man to prevent her."
+
+Cleigh thumped down the ladder. Cunningham was right--there was murder in
+his heart. He hurried into the main salon, and there he found Jane and
+Dennison conversing.
+
+"Miss Norman, despite my warning you went up to the chart house."
+
+"I had some questions to ask."
+
+"I forbid you emphatically. I am responsible for you."
+
+"I am no longer your prisoner, Mr. Cleigh; I am Mr. Cunningham's."
+
+"You went up there alone?" demanded Dennison.
+
+"Why not? I'm not afraid. He will not break his word to me."
+
+"Damn him!" roared Dennison.
+
+"Where are you going?" she cried, seizing him by the sleeve.
+
+"To have it out with him! I can't stand this any longer!"
+
+"And what will become of me--if anything happens to you, or anything
+happens to him? What about the crew if he isn't on hand to hold them?"
+
+The muscular tenseness of the arm she held relaxed. But the look he gave
+his father was on a par with that which Cleigh had so recently spent upon
+Cunningham. Cleigh could not support it, and turned his head aside.
+
+"All right. But mind you keep in sight! If you will insist upon talking
+with the scoundrel, at least permit me to be within call. What do you want
+to talk to him for, anyhow?"
+
+"Neither of you will stoop to ask him questions, so I had to. And I have
+learned one thing. He is going pearl hunting."
+
+"What? Off the Catwick? There's no pearl oyster in that region," Dennison
+declared. "Either he is lying or the Catwick is a blind. The only chance
+he'd have would be somewhere in the Sulu Archipelago; and this time of
+year the pearl fleets will be as thick as flies in molasses. Of course if
+he is aware of some deserted atoll, why, there might be something in it."
+
+"Have you ever hunted pearls?"
+
+"In a second-hand sort of way. But if pearls are his game, why commit
+piracy when he could have chartered a tramp to carry his crew? There's
+more than one old bucket hereabouts ready to his hand for coal and
+stores. He'll need a shoe spoon to get inside or by the Sulu fleets, since
+the oyster has been pretty well neglected these five years, and every
+official pearler will be hiking down there. But it requires a certain
+amount of capital and a stack of officially stamped paper, and I don't
+fancy Cunningham has either."
+
+Cleigh smiled dryly, but offered no comment. He knew all about
+Cunningham's capital.
+
+"Did he say anything about being picked up by another boat?" asked
+Dennison.
+
+"No," answered Jane. "But I don't believe it will be hard for me to make
+him tell me that. I believe that he will keep his word, too."
+
+"Jane, he has broken the law of the sea. I don't know what the penalty is
+these days, but it used to be hanging to the yard-arm. He won't be
+particular about his word if by breaking it he can save his skin. He's
+been blarneying you. You've let his plausible tongue and handsome face
+befog you."
+
+"That is not true!" she flared. Afterward she wondered what caused the
+flash of perversity. "And I resent your inference!" she added with
+uplifted chin.
+
+Dennison whirled her about savagely, stared into her eyes, then walked to
+the companion, up which he disappeared. This rudeness astonished her
+profoundly. She appealed silently to the father.
+
+"We are riding a volcano," said Cleigh. "I'm not sure but he's setting
+some trap for you. He may need you as a witness for the defense. Of course
+I can't control your actions, but it would relieve me immensely if you'd
+give him a wide berth."
+
+"He was not the one who brought me aboard."
+
+"No. And the more I look at it, the more I am convinced that you came on
+board of your own volition. You had two or three good opportunities to
+call for assistance."
+
+"You believe that?"
+
+"I've as much right to believe that as you have that Cunningham will keep
+his word."
+
+"Oh!" she cried, but it was an outburst of anger. And it had a peculiar
+twist, too. She was furious because both father and son were partly
+correct; and yet there was no diminution of that trust she was putting in
+Cunningham. "Next you'll be hinting that I'm in collusion with him!"
+
+"No. Only he is an extraordinarily fascinating rogue, and you are wearing
+the tinted goggles of romance."
+
+Fearing that she might utter something regrettable, she flew down the port
+passage and entered her cabin, where she remained until dinner. She spent
+the intervening hours endeavouring to analyze the cause of her temper, but
+the cause was as elusive as quicksilver. Why should she trust Cunningham?
+What was the basis of this trust? He had, as Denny said, broken the law of
+the sea. Was there a bit of black sheep in her, and was the man calling to
+it? And this perversity of hers might create an estrangement between her
+and Denny; she must not let that happen. The singular beauty of the man's
+face, his amazing career, and his pathetic deformity--was that it?
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Where's the captain?" asked Cunningham, curiously, as he noted the vacant
+chair at the table that night.
+
+"On deck, I suppose."
+
+"Isn't he dining to-night?"--an accent of suspicion creeping into his
+voice. "He isn't contemplating making a fool of himself, is he? He'll get
+hurt if he approaches the wireless."
+
+"Togo," broke in Cleigh, "bring the avocats and the pineapple."
+
+Cunningham turned upon him with a laugh.
+
+"Cleigh, when I spin this yarn some day I'll carry you through it as the
+man who never batted an eye. I can see now how you must have bluffed Wall
+Street out of its boots."
+
+When Cunningham saw that Jane was distrait he made no attempt to pull her
+out of it. He ate his dinner, commenting only occasionally. Still, he bade
+her a cheery good-night as he returned to the chart house, where he stayed
+continually, never quite certain what old Captain Newton might do to the
+wheel and the compass if left alone too long.
+
+Dennison came in immediately after Cunningham's departure and contritely
+apologized to Jane for his rudeness.
+
+"I suppose I'm on the rack; nerves all raw; tearing me to pieces to sit
+down and twiddle my thumbs. Will you forgive me?"
+
+"Of course I will! I understand. You are all anxious about me.
+Theoretically, this yacht is a volcano, and you're trying to keep me from
+kicking off the lid. But I've an idea that the lid will stay on tightly if
+we make believe we are Mr. Cunningham's guests. But it is almost
+impossible to suspect that anything is wrong. Whenever a member of the
+crew comes in sight he is properly polite, just as he would be on a liner.
+If I do go to the bridge again I'll give you warning. Good-night, Mr.
+Cleigh, I'll read to you in the morning. Good-night--Denny."
+
+Cleigh, sighing contentedly, dipped his fingers into the finger bowl and
+brushed his lips.
+
+The son drank a cup of coffee hastily, lit his pipe, and went on deck. He
+proceeded directly to the chart house.
+
+"Cunningham, I'll swallow my pride and ask a favour of you."
+
+"Ah!"--in a neutral tone.
+
+"The cook tells me that all the wine and liquor are in the dry-stores
+compartment. Will you open it and let me chuck the stuff overboard?"
+
+"No," said Cunningham, promptly. "When I turn this yacht back to your
+father not a single guy rope will be out of order. It would be a fine
+piece of work to throw all those rare vintages over the rail simply to
+appease an unsubstantial fear on your part! No!"
+
+"But if the men should break in? And it would be easy, because it is
+nearer them than us."
+
+"Thank your father for building the deck like a city flat. But if the boys
+should break in, there's the answer," said Cunningham, laying his
+regulation revolver on the chart table. "And every mother's son of them
+knows it."
+
+"You refuse?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"All right. But if anything happens I'll be on top of you, and all the
+bullets in that clip won't stop me."
+
+"Captain, you bore me. Your father and the girl are good sports. You ought
+to be one. I've given you the freedom of the yacht for the girl's sake
+when caution bids me dump you into the brig. I begin to suspect that your
+misfortunes are due to a violent temper. Run along with your thunder; I
+don't want you hurt."
+
+"If I come through this alive----"
+
+"You'll join your dad peeling off my hide--if you can catch me!"
+
+It was with the greatest effort that Dennison crushed down the desire to
+leap upon his tormentor. He stood tense for a moment, then stepped out
+upon the bridge. His fury was suffocating him, and he realized that he was
+utterly helpless.
+
+Ten minutes later the crew in their quarters were astonished to see the
+old man's son enter. None of them stirred.
+
+"I say, any you chaps got an extra suit of twill? This uniform is getting
+too thick for this latitude. I'm fair melting down to the bone."
+
+"Sure!" bellowed a young giant, swinging out of his bunk. He rummaged
+round for a space and brought forth a light-weight khaki shirt and a pair
+of ducks. "Guess these'll fit you, sir."
+
+"Thanks. Navy stores?"
+
+"Yes, sir. You're welcome."
+
+Dennison's glance travelled from face to face, and he had to admit that
+there was none of the criminal type here. They might carry through
+decently. Nevertheless, hereafter he would sleep on the lounge in the
+main salon. If any tried to force the dry-stores door he would be likely
+to hear it.
+
+At eleven o'clock the following morning there occurred an episode which
+considerably dampened Jane's romantical point of view regarding this
+remarkable voyage. Cleigh had gone below for some illuminated manuscripts
+and Dennison was out of sight for the moment. She leaned over the rail and
+watched the flying fish. Suddenly out of nowhere came the odour of
+whisky.
+
+"You ought to take a trip up to the cutwater at night and see the flying
+fish in the phosphorescence."
+
+She did not stir. Instinctively she knew who the owner of this voice would
+be--the man Cunningham called Flint. A minute--an unbearable
+minute--passed.
+
+"Oh! Too haughty to be a good fellow, huh?"
+
+Footsteps, a rush of wind, a scuffling, and an oath brought her head
+about. She saw Flint go balancing and stumbling backward, finally to sprawl
+on his hands and knees, and following him, in an unmistakable attitude,
+was Dennison. Jane was beginning to understand these Cleighs; their rage
+was terrible because it was always cold.
+
+"Denny!" she called.
+
+But Dennison continued on toward Flint.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+Flint was a powerful man, or had been. The surprise of the attack over, he
+jumped to his feet, and blazing with murderous fury rushed Dennison. Jane
+saw a tangle of arms, and out of this tangle came a picture that would
+always remain vivid--Flint practically dangling at the end of Dennison's
+right arm. The rogue tore and heaved and kicked and struck, but futilely,
+because his reach was shorter. Dennison let go unexpectedly.
+
+"Listen to me, you filthy beachcomber! If you ever dare speak to Miss
+Norman again or come within ten feet of her I'll kill you with bare hands!
+There are no guns on board this yacht--bare hands. Now go back to your
+master and say that I'd like to do the same to him."
+
+Flint, his hands touching his throat with inquiring solicitude--Flint eyed
+Dennison with that mixture of pain and astonishment that marks the face of
+a man who has been grossly deceived. Slowly he revolved on his shaking
+legs and staggered forward, shortly to disappear round the deck house.
+
+"Oh, Denny, you've done a foolish thing! You've shamed that man before me
+and put murder in his heart. It isn't as if we were running the yacht. We
+are prisoners of that man and his fellows. It would have been enough for
+you to have stepped in between."
+
+"I haven't any parlour varnish left, Jane. His shoulder was almost
+touching yours. It was an intentional insult, and that was enough for me.
+The dog! Still looking at the business romantically?"
+
+His tone was bitter. Her reproach, no doubt justified, cut deeply.
+
+"No, I'm beginning to become a little afraid--afraid that the men may get
+out of hand. I don't care what you and your father think, but I believe
+Cunningham honestly wishes us to reach the Catwick without any conflict."
+
+"Ah, Cunningham!"
+
+"There you go again--angry and bitter! Why can't you take it sensibly,
+like your father?"
+
+"My father doesn't happen to be----"
+
+He stopped with mystifying abruptness.
+
+"Doesn't happen to be what?"
+
+"The sort of fool I am!"
+
+"You're not so good a comrade as you were."
+
+"Can't you understand? I've been stood upon my head. The worry about you
+on one side and the contact with my father on the other would be
+sufficient. But Cunningham and this pirate crew as a tail to the kite!
+But, thank God, I had the wit to come in search of you!"
+
+"I thank God every minute, Denny! You are very strong," she added, shyly.
+
+"Glad of that, too. But I repeat, I've lost the parlour varnish and the
+art of parlour talk. For seven years I've been wandering in strange
+places, most of them hard; so I say what I think and act on the spur. That
+dog had liquor on his breath. Is Cunningham secretly letting them into the
+dry-stores?"
+
+"The man may have brought it aboard at Shanghai. What a horrible thing a
+great war is! In a week it knocks aside all the bars of restraint it took
+years to erect. Could a venture like this have happened in 1913? I doubt
+it. There comes your father. But who is the man with him? He's been
+hurt."
+
+"Father's watchdog. They had to beat him up to get his gun away from him.
+That was the racket we heard. Evidently Father expects you to read to him,
+so I'll take a constitutional."
+
+"Why, where's your uniform?" she cried.
+
+"Laid it aside. From now on it will be stuffy. Those military boots were
+killing me. I borrowed the rig from one of the pirates, but I'll have to
+go barefoot."
+
+"Will you come to your chair soon? I shall worry otherwise. You might run
+into that man again."
+
+"I shan't go below," he promised, starting off.
+
+Twenty thousand at compound interest for seven years, he thought, as he
+made the first turn. A tidy sum to start life with. Could he swallow his
+pride? And yet what hope was there of making a real living? He had never
+specialized in anything, and the world was calling for specialists and
+discarding the others. Another point to consider: Foot-loose for seven
+years, could he stand the shackles of office work, routine, the sameness
+day in and day out? He was returning to the States without the least idea
+what he wanted to do; that was the disturbing phase of it. If only he were
+keen for something! A typical son of the rich man. The only point in his
+favour was that he had not spent his allowances up and down Broadway. No,
+he would never touch a dollar of that money. That was final.
+
+What lay back of this sudden desire to make good in the world? Love! There
+wasn't the slightest use in lying to himself. He wanted Jane Norman with
+all the blood in his body, with all the marrow in his bones; and he had
+nothing to offer her but empty hands.
+
+He shot a glance toward the bridge. And because he had no right to
+speak--obligated to silence by two reasons--that easy-speaking scoundrel
+might trap her fancy. It could not be denied that he was handsome, but he
+was nevertheless a rogue. The two reasons why he must not speak were
+potent. In the first place, he had nothing to offer; in the second place,
+the terror she was no doubt hiding bravely would serve only to confuse
+her--that is, she might confuse a natural desire for protection with
+something deeper and tenderer, and then discover her mistake when it was
+too late.
+
+What was she going to ask of his father when the time came for reparation?
+That puzzled him.
+
+He made the rounds steadily for an hour, and during this time Jane
+frequently looked over the top of the manuscript she was reading aloud. At
+length she laid the manuscript upon her knees.
+
+"Mr. Cleigh, what is it that makes art treasures so priceless?"
+
+"Generally the depth of the buyer's purse. That is what they say of me in
+the great auction rooms."
+
+"But you don't buy them just because you are rich enough to outbid
+somebody else?"
+
+"No, I am actually fond of all the treasures I possess. Aside from this,
+it is the most fascinating game there is. The original! A painting that
+Holbein laid his own brushes on, mixed his own paint for! I have then
+something of the man, tangible, visible; something of his beautiful
+dreams, his poverty, his success. There before me is the authentic labour
+of his hand, which was guided by the genius of his brain--before machinery
+spoiled mankind. Oh, yes, machinery has made me rich! It has given the
+proletariat the privilege of wearing yellow diamonds and riding about in
+flivvers. That must be admitted. But to have lived in those days when
+ambition thought only in beauty! To have been the boon companions of men
+like Da Vinci, Cellini, Michelangelo! Then there are the adventures of
+this concrete dream of the artist. I can trace it back to the bare studio
+in which it was conceived, follow its journeys, its abiding places, down
+to the hour it comes to me."
+
+Jane stared at him astonishedly. All that had been crampedly hidden in his
+soul flowed into his face, warming and mellowing it, even beautifying it.
+Cleigh went on:
+
+"Where will it go when I have done my little span? What new adventures lie
+in store for it? Across the Ponte Vecchio in Florence runs a gallery of
+portraits: at the south end of this gallery there is or was a corner given
+over to a copyist. He strikes you dumb with the cleverness of his work,
+but he has only an eye and a hand--he hasn't a soul. A copy is to the
+original what a dummy is to a live man, no matter how amazingly well done
+the copy is. The original, the dream; nothing else satisfies the true
+collector."
+
+"I didn't know," said Jane, "that you had so much romance in you."
+
+"Romance?" It was almost a bark.
+
+"Why, certainly. No human being could love beauty the way you do and not
+be romantic."
+
+"Romantic!" Cleigh leaned back in his chair. "That's a new point of view
+for Tungsten Cleigh. That's what my enemies call me--the hardest metal on
+earth. Romantic!" He chuckled. "To hear a woman call me romantic!"
+
+"It does not follow that to be romantic one must be sentimental. Romance
+is something heroic, imaginative, big; it isn't a young man and a girl
+spooning on a park bench. I myself am romantic, but nobody could possibly
+call me sentimental."
+
+"No?"
+
+"Why, if I knew that we'd come through this without anybody getting hurt
+I'd be gloriously happy. All my life I've been cooped up. For a little
+while to be free! But I don't like that."
+
+She indicated Dodge, who sat in Dennison's chair, his head bandaged, his
+arm in a sling, thousands of miles from his native plains, at odds with
+his environment. His lean brown jaws were set and the pupils of his blue
+eyes were mere pin points. During the discussion of art, during the
+reading, he had not stirred.
+
+"You mean," said Cleigh, gravely, "that Dodge may be only the beginning?"
+
+"Yes. Your--Captain Dennison had an encounter with the man Flint before
+you came up. He is very strong and--and a bit intolerant."
+
+"Ah!" Cleigh rubbed his jaw and smiled ruminatively. "He was always rather
+handy with his fists. Did he kill the ruffian?"
+
+"No, held him at arm's length and threatened to kill him. I'm afraid Flint
+will not accept the situation with good grace."
+
+"Flint? I never liked that rogue's face."
+
+"He has found liquor somewhere, and I saw murder in his eyes. Denny isn't
+afraid, and that's why I am--afraid he'll run amuck uselessly. His very
+strength will react against him."
+
+"I was like that thirty years ago." So she called him Denny? Cleigh laid
+his hand over hers. "Keep your chin up. There's a revolver handy should we
+need it. I dare not carry it for fear Cunningham might discover and
+confiscate it. Six bullets."
+
+"And if worse comes to worse, will--will you save one for me? Please don't
+let Denny do it! You are old, and if you lived after it wouldn't be in
+your thoughts so long as it would be in his--if he killed me. Will you
+promise?"
+
+"Yes--if worse comes to worse. Will you forgive me?"
+
+"I do. But still I'm going to hold you to your word."
+
+"I'll pay the score, whatever it is. Now suppose you come below with me
+and take a look at the paintings? You haven't seen my cabin yet."
+
+What was this unusual young woman going to ask of him? He wondered. The
+more he thought over it the more convinced he was that she had assisted in
+the abduction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+After they had gone below Dennison dropped into Jane's chair. Immediately
+Dodge began to talk: "So you nearly throttled that ornery coyote, huh?
+Whata you know about this round-up? The three o' 'em came in, and I never
+smelt nothin' until they were on top o' me. How should I smell anythin'?
+Hobnobbing together for days, how was I to know they were a bunch of
+pirates? Is your old man sore?"
+
+"Naturally."
+
+"I mean appertainin' to me?"
+
+"I don't see how he could be. Who took care of you--bound you up?"
+
+"That nice-lookin' greaser with the slue foot. Soft speakin' like a woman
+and an eye like a timber wolf. Some _hombre_! Where we bound for?"
+
+"God knows!"--dejectedly.
+
+"Bad as that, huh? Your girl?"
+
+"No."
+
+"No place for a girl. If they hadn't busted my arm I wouldn't care so
+much! If it comes to a show-down I won't be no good to anybody. Gimme my
+guns and we'd be headin' home in five minutes. These _hombres_ know
+somethin' o' my gun play. Gee, it's lonesome here!" Dodge mused for a
+moment. "Say, what's your old man's idea hog-tyin' you that-a-way?"
+
+"He'll tell you perhaps."
+
+"Uh-huh. Say, what did the Lord make all that stuff for?" with a gesture
+toward the brazen sea. "What's it good for, anyhow?"
+
+"But for the sea we wouldn't have any oysters or codfish," said Dennison,
+soberly.
+
+Dodge chuckled.
+
+"Oysters and codfish! Say, you're all right! Never knew the old man had a
+son until you blew in. Back in New York nobody ever said nothin' about
+you. Where you been?"
+
+"Lots of places."
+
+"Any ridin'?"
+
+"Some."
+
+"Can you shoot?"
+
+"A little."
+
+"Kill any o' them Bolsheviks?"
+
+"That would be guesswork. Did you ever kill a man?"
+
+"Nope. Didn't have to. I'm pretty good on the draw, and where I come from
+they knew it and didn't bother me."
+
+"I see."
+
+"Shootin' these days is all in the movies. I was ridin' for a film company
+when your old man lassoed me for this job. Never know when you're well
+off--huh? I thought there wouldn't be nothin' to do but grub pile three
+times a day and the old man's cheroots in between. And here I be now,
+ridin' along with a bunch of pirates! Whata you know about that? And some
+of them nice boys, too. If they were riff-raff, barroom bums, I could get
+a line on it. But I'll have to pass the buck."
+
+"You haven't got an extra gun anywhere, have you?"
+
+"We'd be headin' east if I had"--grimly. "I'd have pared down the odds
+this mornin'. That _hombre_ with the hop-a-long didn't leave me a quill
+toothpick. Was you thinkin' of startin' somethin'?"--hopefully.
+
+"No, but I'd feel more comfortable if Miss Norman could carry a gun."
+
+"Uh-huh. Say, she's all right. No hysterics. Ain't many of 'em that
+wouldn't 'a' been snivellin' all day and night in her bunk. Been listenin'
+to her readin'. Gee, you'd think we were floatin' round this codfish lake
+just for the fun of it! She won't run to cover if a bust-up comes. None
+whatever! And I bet she can cook, too. Them kind can always cook."
+
+Conversation lapsed.
+
+Below, Jane was passing through an unusual experience.
+
+Said Cleigh at the start: "I'm going to show you the paintings--there are
+fourteen in all. I will tell you the history of each. And above all,
+please bear in mind the price of each picture."
+
+"I'll remember."
+
+But she thought the request an odd one, coming from the man as she knew
+him.
+
+Most of the treasures were in his own spacious cabin. There was a
+Napoleonic corner--a Meissonier on one side and a Detaille on the other.
+In a stationary cabinet there were a pair of stirrups, a riding crop, a
+book on artillery tactics, a pair of slippers beaded with seed pearls, and
+a buckle studded with sapphires.
+
+"What are those?" she asked, attracted.
+
+"They belonged to the Emperor and his first Empress."
+
+"Napoleon?"
+
+"The Corsican. Next to the masters, I've a passion for things genuinely
+Napoleonic. The hussar is by Meissonier and the skirmish by Detaille."
+
+"How much is this corner worth?"
+
+"I can't say, except that I would not part with those objects for a
+hundred thousand; and there are friends of mine who would pay half that
+sum for them--behind my back. This is a Da Vinci."
+
+Half an hour passed. Jane honestly tried to be thrilled by the splendour
+of the names she heard, but her eye was always travelling back toward the
+slippers and the buckle. The Empress Josephine! Romance and gallantry in
+the old, old days!
+
+"The painting in your cabin is by Holbein. It cost me sixteen thousand.
+Now let us go out and look at the rug. That is the apple of my eye. It is
+the second finest example of the animal rug in the world. A sheet of pure
+gold, half an inch thick, covering the rug from end to end, would not
+equal its worth."
+
+Jane admired the rug, but she would have preferred the gold. Her sense of
+the beautiful was alive, but there was always in her mind the genteel
+poverty of the past. She was beginning to understand. To go in quest of
+the beautiful required an unlimited purse and an endless leisure; and she
+would have never the one nor the other.
+
+"How much gold would that be?" she inquired, naively.
+
+"Nearly eighty thousand. Have you kept in mind the sums I have given
+you?"
+
+"Yes. Let me see--good heavens, a quarter of a million! But why do you
+carry them about like this?"
+
+"Because I'm something of a rogue myself. I could not enjoy the rug and
+the paintings except on board. The French, the Italian, and the Spanish
+governments could confiscate every solitary painting except the Meissonier
+and the Detaille, for the simple reason that they were stolen. Oh, I did
+not steal them myself; I merely purchased them with one eye shut. If I
+hadn't bought them they would have gone to some other collector. Do you
+get a glimmer of the truth now?"
+
+"The truth?"--perplexedly.
+
+"Yes--where Cunningham will get his pearls?"--bitterly.
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"And I could not touch him. A quarter of a million! And with his knowledge
+of the secret marts he could easily dispose of them. Worth a bold stroke,
+eh?"
+
+"But how will he get them off the yacht--transship them?"
+
+Her faith in Cunningham began to waver. A quarter of a million! The
+thought was as bells in her ears.
+
+"Of the outside issues I have no inkling. But I have shown you his
+pearls."
+
+"But the crew! Certainly they will not return to any port with us. And why
+should he lie to me? There is no reason in the world why he shouldn't
+have told me, if he had committed piracy to obtain your paintings. And he
+was poring over maps."
+
+"Some tramp is probably going to pick him up. He's ordered us away from
+the wireless. Cunningham must have his joke, so he is beguiling you with
+twaddle about hunting pearls. He is robbing me of my treasures, and I
+can't strike back on that count. But I can land him in prison on the count
+of piracy; and by the Lord Harry, I'll do it if it takes my last dollar!
+He'll rue this adventure, or they call me Tungsten for nothing!"
+
+"I wanted so to believe in him!"
+
+"Not difficult to understand why. He has a silver tongue and a face like
+John the Baptist--del Sarto's--and you are romantic. The picture of him
+has enlisted your sympathies. You are filled with pity that he should be
+so richly endowed, facially and mentally, and to be a cripple such as
+children laugh over."
+
+"Have you never considered what mental anguish must be the portion of a
+man whose body is twisted as his is? I know. So I pity him profoundly,
+even if he is a rogue. That's all I was born for--to pity and to bind up.
+And I pity you, Mr. Cleigh, you who have walled your heart in granite."
+
+"You're plain-spoken, young lady."
+
+"Yes, certain sick minds need plain speaking."
+
+"Then my mind is sick?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And only a little while gone it was romantic!"
+
+"Two hundred million hands begging for bread, and you crossing the world
+for a string of glass beads whose value is only sentimental!"
+
+"I can't let that pass, Miss Norman. I have trusted lieutenants who attend
+to my charities. I'm not a miser."
+
+"You are, with the greatest thing in the world--human love."
+
+"Shall a man give it where it is not wanted? But enough of this talk. I
+have shown you Cunningham's pearls."
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Night and wheeling stars. It was stuffy in the crew's quarters. Half
+naked, the men lolled about, some in their bunks, some on the floor. The
+orders were that none should sleep on deck during the voyage to the
+Catwick.
+
+"All because the old man brings a skirt on board, we have to sweat blood
+in the forepeak!" growled Flint. "We've got a right to a little sport."
+
+"Sure we have!"
+
+The speaker was sitting on the edge of his bunk. He was a fine specimen
+of young manhood, with a pleasant, rollicking Irish countenance. He looked
+as if he had been brought up clean and had carried his cleanliness into
+the world. The blue anchor and love birds on his formidable forearms
+proclaimed him a deep-sea man. It was he who had given Dennison the shirt
+and the ducks.
+
+"Sure, we have a right to a little sport! But why call in the undertaker
+to help us out? You poor fish, all the way from San Francisco you've been
+grousing because shore leaves weren't long enough for you to get prime
+soused in. What's two months in our young lives?"
+
+"I've always been free to do as I liked."
+
+"You look it! I'll say so! The chief laid down the rules of this game, and
+we all took oath to follow those rules. The trouble with you is, you've
+been reading dime novels. Where do you think you are--raiding the Spanish
+Main? There's every chance of our coming out top hole, as those
+lime-juicers say, with oodles of dough and a whole skin."
+
+"Say, don't I know this Sulu game? I tell you, if he does find his atoll
+there won't be any shell. Not a chance in a hundred! Somebody's been
+giving him a song and dance. As I get the dope, some pearl-hunting friend
+of his croaks and leaves him this chart. Old stuff! I bet a million boobs
+have croaked trying to locate the red cross on a chart."
+
+"Why the devil did you sign on, then?"
+
+"I wanted a little fun, and I'm going to have it. There's champagne and
+Napoleon brandy in the dry-stores. Wouldn't hurt us to have a little of
+it. If we've got to go to jail we might as well go lit up."
+
+"Flint, you talk too much," said a voice from the doorway. It was
+Cunningham's. He leaned carelessly against the jamb. The crew fell silent
+and motionless. "Boys, you've heard Hennessy. Play it my way and you'll
+wear diamonds; mess it up and you'll all wear hemp. The world will forgive
+us when it finds out we've only made it laugh." Cunningham strolled over
+to Flint, who rose to his feet. "Flint, I want that crimp-house whisky
+you've been swigging on the sly. No back talk! Hand it over!"
+
+"And if I don't?" said Flint, his jaw jutting.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+Cunningham did not answer immediately. From Flint his glance went roving
+from man to man, as if trying to read what they expected of him.
+
+"Flint, you were recommended to me for your knowledge of the Sulu lingo.
+We'll need a crew of divers, and we'll have to pick them up secretly.
+That's your job. It's your only job outside doing your watch with the
+shovel below. Somehow you've got the wrong idea. You think this is a
+junket of the oil-lamp period. All wrong! You don't know me, and that's a
+pity; because if you did know something about me you'd walk carefully.
+When we're off this yacht, I don't say. If you want what old-timers used
+to call their pannikin of rum, you'll be welcome to it. But on board the
+_Wanderer_, nothing doing. Get your duffel out. I'll have a look at it."
+
+"Get it yourself," said Flint.
+
+Cunningham appeared small and boyish beside the ex-beachcomber.
+
+"I'm speaking to you decently, Flint, when I ought to bash in your head."
+
+The tone was gentle and level.
+
+"Why don't you try it?"
+
+The expectant men thereupon witnessed a feat that was not only deadly in
+its precision but oddly grotesque. Cunningham's right hand flew out with
+the sinister quickness of a cobra's strike, and he had Flint's brawny
+wrist in grip. He danced about, twisted and lurched until he came to an
+abrupt stop behind Flint's back. Flint's mouth began to bend at the
+corners--a grimace.
+
+"You'll break it yourself, Flint, if you move another inch," said
+Cunningham, nonchalantly. "This is the gentlest trick I have in the bag.
+Cut out the booze until we're off this yacht. Be a good sport and play the
+game according to contract. I don't like these side shows. But you wanted
+me to show you. Want to call it off?"
+
+Sweat began to bead Flint's forehead. He was straining every muscle in his
+body to minimize that inexorable turning of his elbow and shoulder.
+
+"The stuff is in Number Two bunker," he said, with a ghastly grin. "I'll
+chuck it over."
+
+"There, now!" Cunningham stepped back. "I might have made it your neck.
+But I'm patient, because I want this part of the game to go through
+according to schedule. When I turn back this yacht I want nothing missing
+but the meals I've had."
+
+Flint rubbed his arm, scowling, and walked over to his bunk.
+
+"Boys," said Cunningham, "so far you've been bricks. Shortly we'll be
+heading southeast on our own. Wherever I am known, men will tell you that
+I never break my word. I promised you that we'd come through with clean
+heels. Something has happened which we could not forestall. There is a
+woman on board. It is not necessary to say that she is under my
+protection."
+
+He clumped out into the passage.
+
+"Well, say!" burst out the young sailor named Hennessy. "I'm a tough guy,
+but I couldn't have turned that trick. Hey, you! If you've got any hooch
+in the coal bunkers, heave it over. I'm telling you! These soft-spoken
+guys are the kind I lay off, believe you me! I've seen all kinds, and I
+know."
+
+"Did they kick you out of the Navy?" snarled Flint.
+
+"Say, are you asking me to do it?" flared the Irishman. "You poor boob,
+you'd be in the sick bay if there hadn't been a lady on board."
+
+"A lady?"
+
+"I said a lady! Stand up, you scut!"
+
+But Flint rolled into his bunk and turned his face to the partition.
+
+Cunningham leaned against the port rail. These bursts of fury always left
+him depressed. He was not a fighting man at all and fate was always
+flinging him into physical contests. He might have killed the fool: he had
+been in a killing mood. He was tired. Somehow the punch was gone from the
+affair, the thrill. Why should that be?
+
+For years he had been planning something like this, and then to have it
+taste like stale wine! Vaguely he knew that he had made a discovery. The
+girl! If he were poring over his chart, his glance would drift away; if he
+were reading, the printed page had a peculiar way of vanishing. Of course
+it was all nonsense. But that night in Shanghai something had drawn him
+irresistibly to young Cleigh's table. It might have been the colour of her
+hair. At any rate, he hadn't noticed the beads until he had spoken to
+young Cleigh.
+
+Glass beads! Queer twist. A little trinket, worthless except for
+sentimental reasons, throwing these lives together. Of course an oil would
+have lured the elder Cleigh across the Pacific quite as successfully. The
+old chap had been particularly keen for a sea voyage after having been
+cooped up for four years. But in the event of baiting the trap with a
+painting neither the girl nor the son would have been on board. And Flint
+could have had his noggin without anybody disturbing him, even if the
+contract read otherwise.
+
+Law-abiding pirates! How the world would chuckle if the yarn ever reached
+the newspapers! He had Cleigh in the hollow of his hand. In fancy he saw
+Cleigh placing his grievance with the British Admiralty. He could imagine
+the conversation, too.
+
+"They returned the yacht in perfect condition?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did they steal anything?"
+
+Cunningham could positively see Cleigh's jowls redden as he shook his head
+to the query.
+
+"Sorry. You can't expect us to waste coal hunting for a scoundrel who only
+borrowed your yacht."
+
+But what was the row between Cleigh and his son? That was a puzzler. Not a
+word! They ignored each other absolutely. These dinners were queer games,
+to be sure. All three men spoke to the girl, but neither of the Cleighs
+spoke to him or to each other. A string of glass beads!
+
+What about himself? What had caused his exuberance to die away, his
+enthusiasm to grow dim? Why, a month gone he would burst into such gales
+of laughter that his eyes would fill with tears at the thought of this
+hour! And the wine tasted flat. The greatest sea joke of the age, and he
+couldn't boil up over it any more!
+
+Love? He had burnt himself out long ago. But had it been love? Rather had
+it not been a series of false dawns? To a weepy-waily woman he would have
+offered the same courtesies, but she would not have drawn his thoughts in
+any manner. And this one kept entering his thoughts at all times. That
+would be a joke, wouldn't it? At this day to feel the scorch of genuine
+passion!
+
+To dig a pit for Cleigh and to stumble into another himself! In setting
+this petard he hadn't got out of range quickly enough. His sense of humour
+was so keen that he laughed aloud, with a gesture which invited the gods
+to join him.
+
+Jane, who had been watching the solitary figure from the corner of the
+deck house and wondering who it was, recognized the voice. The cabin had
+been stuffy, her own mental confusion had driven sleep away, so she had
+stolen on deck for the purpose of viewing the splendours of the Oriental
+night. The stars that seemed so near, so soft; the sea that tossed their
+reflections hither and yon, or spun a star magically into a silver thread
+and immediately rolled it up again; the brilliant electric blue of the
+phosphorescence and the flash of flying fish or a porpoise that ought to
+have been home and in bed.
+
+She hesitated. She was puzzled. She was not afraid of him--the puzzle lay
+somewhere else. She was a little afraid of herself. She was afraid of
+anything that could not immediately be translated into ordinary terms of
+expression. The man frankly wakened her pity. He seemed as lonely as the
+sea itself. Slue-Foot! And somewhere a woman had laughed at him. Perhaps
+that had changed everything, made him what he was.
+
+She wondered if she would ever be able to return to the shell out of which
+the ironic humour of chance had thrust her. Wondered if she could pick up
+again philosophically the threads of dull routine. Jane Norman, gliding
+over this mysterious southern sea, a lone woman among strong and reckless
+men! Piracy! Pearls! Rugs and paintings worth a quarter of a million!
+Romance!
+
+Did she want it to last? Did she want romance all the rest of her days?
+What was this thing within her that was striving for expression? For what
+was she hunting? What worried her and put fear into her heart was the
+knowledge that she did not know what she wanted. From all directions came
+questions she could not answer.
+
+Was she in love? If so, where was the fire that should attend? Was it
+Denny--or yonder riddle? She felt contented with Denny, but Cunningham's
+presence seemed to tear into unexplored corners of her heart and brain.
+If she were in love with Denny, why didn't she thrill when he approached?
+There was only a sense of security, contentment.
+
+The idea of racing round the world romantically with Denny struck her as
+absurd. Equally contrary to reason was the picture of herself and
+Cunningham sitting before a wood fire. What was the matter with Jane
+Norman?
+
+There was one bar of light piercing the fog. She knew now why she had
+permitted Cleigh to abduct her. To bring about a reconciliation between
+father and son. And apparently there was as much chance as of east meeting
+west. She walked over to the rail and joined Cunningham.
+
+"You?" he said.
+
+"The cabin was stuffy. I couldn't sleep."
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"If there isn't a wild streak in you that corresponds with mine. You fall
+into the picture naturally--curious and unafraid."
+
+"Why should I be afraid, and why shouldn't I be curious?"
+
+"The greatest honour a woman ever paid me. I mean that you shouldn't be
+afraid of me when everything should warn you to give me plenty of sea
+room."
+
+"I know more about men than I do about women."
+
+"And I know too much about both."
+
+"There have been other women--besides the one who laughed?"
+
+"Yes. Perhaps I was cruel enough to make them pay for that.
+
+         "'Funny an' yellow an' faithful--
+         Doll in a teacup she were,
+         But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair,
+         An' I learned about women from 'er!'
+
+"But I wonder what would have happened if it had been a woman like you
+instead of the one who laughed."
+
+"I shouldn't have laughed."
+
+"This damned face of mine!"
+
+"You mustn't say that! Why not try to make over your soul to match it?"
+
+"How is that done?"
+
+The irony was so gentle that she fell silent for a space.
+
+"Are you going to take Mr. Cleigh's paintings when you leave us?"
+
+"My dear young lady, all I have left to be proud of is my word. I give it
+to you that I am going after pearls. It may sound crazy, but I can't help
+that. I am realizing a dream. I'm something of a fatalist--I've had to
+be. I've always reasoned that if I could make the dream come true--this
+dream of pearls--I'd have a chance to turn over a new leaf. I've had to
+commit acts at times that were against my nature, my instincts. I've had
+to be cruel and terrible, because men would not believe a pretty man could
+be a strong one. Do you understand? I have been forced to cruel deeds
+because men would not credit a man's heart behind a woman's face. I
+possess tremendous nervous energy. That's the principal curse. I can't sit
+still; I can't remain long anywhere; I must go, go, go! Like the Wandering
+Jew, Ishmael."
+
+"Do you know what Ishmael means?"
+
+"No. What?"
+
+"'God heareth.' Have you ever asked Him for anything?"
+
+"No. Why should I, since He gave me this withered leg? Please don't preach
+to me."
+
+"I won't, then. But I'm terribly sorry."
+
+"Of course you are. But--don't become too sorry. I might want to carry you
+off to my atoll."
+
+"If you took me away with you by force, I'd hate you and you'd hate
+yourself. But you won't do anything like that."
+
+"What makes you believe so?"
+
+"I don't know why, but I do believe it."
+
+"To be trusted by a woman, a good woman! I'll tell that to the stars. Tell
+me about yourself--what you did and how you lived before you came this
+side."
+
+It was not a long story, and he nodded from time to time understandingly.
+Genteel poverty, a life of scrimp and pare--the cage. Romance--a flash of
+it--and she would return to the old life quite satisfied. Peace, a stormy
+interlude; then peace again indefinitely. It came to him that he wanted
+the respect of this young woman for always. But the malice that was ever
+bubbling up to his tongue and finding speech awoke.
+
+"Suppose I find my pearls--and then come back for you? Romance and
+adventure! These warm stars always above us at night; the brilliant days;
+the voyages from isle to isle; palms and gay parrakeets, cocoanuts and
+mangosteens--and let the world go hang!"
+
+She did not reply, but she moved a little away. He waited for a minute,
+then laughed softly.
+
+"My dear young lady, this is the interlude you've always been longing for.
+Fate has popped you out of the normal for a few days, and presently she'll
+pop you back into it. Some day you'll marry and have children; you'll sink
+into the rut of monotony again and not be conscious of it. On winter
+nights, before the fire, when the children have been put to bed, your man
+buried behind his evening paper, you will recall Slue-Foot and the
+interlude and be happy over it. You'll hug and cuddle it to your heart
+secretly. A poignant craving in your life had been satisfied. Kidnapped by
+pirates, under Oriental stars! Fifteen men on a dead man's chest--yo-ho,
+and a bottle of rum! A glorious adventure, with three meals the day and
+grand opera on the phonograph. Shades of Gilbert and Sullivan! And you
+will always be wondering whether the pirate made love to you in jest or in
+earnest--and he'll always be wondering, too!"
+
+Cunningham turned away abruptly and clumped toward the bridge ladder,
+which he mounted.
+
+For some inexplicable reason her heart became filled with wild resentment
+against him. Mocking her, when she had only offered him kindness! She
+clung to the idea of mockery because it was the only tangible thing she
+could pluck from her confusion. Thus when she began the descent of the
+companionway and ran into Dennison coming up her mood was not receptive to
+reproaches.
+
+"Where have you been?" he demanded.
+
+"Watching the stars and the phosphorescence. I could not sleep."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"No. Mr. Cunningham was with me."
+
+"I warned you to keep away from that scoundrel!"
+
+"How dare you use that tone to me? Have you any right to tell me what I
+shall and shall not do?" she stormed at him. "I've got to talk to someone.
+You go about in one perpetual gloom. I purpose to see and talk to
+Cunningham as often as I please. At least he amuses me."
+
+With this she rushed past him and on to her cabin, the door of which she
+closed with such emphasis that it was heard all over the yacht--so sharp
+was the report that both Cleigh and Dodge awoke and sat up, half convinced
+that they had heard a pistol shot!
+
+Jane sat down on her bed, still furious. After a while she was able to
+understand something of this fury. The world was upside down, wrong end
+to. Dennison, not Cunningham, should have acted the debonair, the
+nonchalant. Before this adventure began he had been witty, amusing,
+companionable; now he was as interesting as a bump on a log. At table he
+was only a poor counterfeit of his father, whose silence was maintained
+admirably, at all times impressively dignified. Whereas at each encounter
+Dennison played directly into Cunningham's hands, and the latter was too
+much the banterer not to make the most of these episodes.
+
+What if he was worried? Hadn't she more cause to worry than any one else?
+For all that, she did not purpose to hide behind the barricaded door of
+her cabin. If there was a tragedy in the offing it would not fall less
+heavily because one approached it with melancholy countenance.
+
+Heaven knew that she was no infant as regarded men! In the six years of
+hospital work she had come into contact with all sorts and conditions of
+men. Cunningham might be the greatest scoundrel unhung, but so far as she
+was concerned she need have no fear. This knowledge was instinctive.
+
+But when her cheek touched the pillow she began to cry softly. She was so
+terribly lonely!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+The space through which Jane had passed held Dennison's gaze for two or
+three minutes. Then he sat down on the companionway step, his arms across
+his knees and his forehead upon his arms. What to say? What to do? She
+expected him to be amusing!--when he knew that the calm on board was of
+the same deceptive quality as that of the sea--below, the terror!
+
+It did not matter that the crew was of high average. They would not be
+playing such a game unless they were a reckless lot. At any moment they
+might take it into their heads to swarm over Cunningham and obliterate
+him. Then what? If the episode of the morning had not convinced Jane, what
+would? The man Flint had dropped his mask; the others were content to wear
+theirs yet awhile. Torture for her sake, the fear of what might actually
+be in store for her, and she expected him to talk and act like a chap out
+of a novel!
+
+Ordinarily so full of common sense, what had happened to her that her
+vision should become so obscured as not to recognize the danger of the
+man? Had he been ugly, Jane would probably have ignored him. But that face
+of his, as handsome as a Greek god's, and that tongue with its roots in
+oil! And there was his deformity--that had drawn her pity. Playing with
+her, and she deliberately walked into the trap because he was amusing! Why
+shouldn't he be, knowing that he held their lives in the hollow of his
+hand? What imp of Satan wouldn't have been amiable?
+
+Because the rogues did not run up the skull and crossbones; because they
+did not swagger up and down the deck, knives and pistols in their sashes,
+she couldn't be made to believe them criminals!
+
+Amusing! She could not see that if he spoke roughly it was only an
+expression of the smothered pain of his mental crucifixion. He could not
+tell her he loved her for fear she might misinterpret her own sentiments.
+Besides, her present mood was not inductive to any declaration on his
+part; a confession might serve only to widen the breach. Who could say
+that it wasn't Cunningham's game to take Jane along with him in the end?
+There was nothing to prevent that. His father holding aloof, the loyal
+members of the crew in a most certain negligible minority, what was there
+to prevent Cunningham from carrying off Jane?
+
+Blood surged into Dennison's throat; a murderous fury boiled up in him;
+but he remembered in time what these volcanic outbursts had cost him in
+the past. So he did not rush to the chart house. Cunningham would lash him
+with ridicule or be forced to shoot him. But his rage carried him as far
+as the wireless room. He could hear the smack of the spark, but that was
+all. He tried the door--locked. He tried the shutters--latched.
+Cunningham's man was either calling or answering somebody. Ten minutes
+inside that room and there would be another tale to tell.
+
+In the end Dennison spent his fury by travelling round the deck until the
+sea and sky became like pearly smoke. Then he dropped into a chair and
+fell asleep.
+
+Cunningham had also watched through the night. The silent steersman heard
+him frequently rustling papers on the chart table or clumping to the
+bridge or lolling on the port sills--a restlessness that had about it
+something of the captive tiger.
+
+Retrospection--he could not break the crowding spell of it, twist mentally
+as he would; and the counter-thought was dimly suicidal. The sea there; a
+few strides would carry him to the end of the bridge, and then--oblivion.
+And the girl would not permit him to enact this thought. He laughed. God
+had mocked him at his birth, and the devil had played with him ever
+since. He had often faced death hotly and hopefully, but to consider
+suicide coldly!
+
+A woman who had crossed his path reluctantly, without will of her own; the
+sort he had always ignored because they had been born for the peace of
+chimney corners! She--the thought of her--could bring the past crowding
+upon him and create in his mind a suicidal bent!
+
+Pearls! A great distaste of life fell upon him; the adventure grew flat.
+The zest that had been his ten days gone, where was it?
+
+Imagination! He had been cursed with too much of it. In his youth he had
+skulked through alleys and back streets--the fear of laughter and ridicule
+dogging his mixed heels. Never before to have paused to philosophize over
+what had caused his wasted life! Too much imagination! Mental strabismus!
+He had let his over-sensitive imagination wreck and ruin him. A woman's
+laughter had given him the viewpoint of a careless world; and he had fled,
+and he had gone on fleeing all these years from pillar to post. From a
+shadow!
+
+He was something of a monster. He saw now where the fault lay. He had
+never stayed long enough in any one place for people to get accustomed to
+him. His damnable imagination! And there was conceit of a sort. Probably
+nobody paid any attention to him after the initial shock and curiosity
+had died away. There was Scarron in his wheel chair--merry and cheerful
+and brave, jesting with misfortune; and men and women had loved him.
+
+A moral coward, and until this hour he had never sensed the truth! That
+was it! He had been a moral coward; he had tried to run away from fate;
+and here he was at last, in the blind alley the coward always found at the
+end of the run. He had never thought of anything but what he was--never of
+what he might have been. For having thrust him unfinished upon a
+thoughtless rather than a heartless world he had been trying to punish
+fate, and had punished only himself. A wastrel, a roisterer by night, a
+spendthrift, and a thief!
+
+What had she said?--reknead his soul so that it would fit his face? Too
+late!
+
+One staff to lean on, one only--he never broke his word. Why had he laid
+down for himself this law? What had inspired him to hold always to that?
+Was there a bit of gold somewhere in his grotesque make-up? A straw on the
+water, and he clutched it! Why? Cunningham laughed again, and the
+steersman turned his head slightly.
+
+"Williams, do you believe in God?" asked Cunningham.
+
+"Well, sir, when I'm holding down the wheel--perhaps. The screw is always
+edging a ship off, and the lighter the ballast the wider the yaw. So you
+have to keep hitching her over a point to starboard. You trust to me to
+keep that point, and I trust to God that the north stays where it is."
+
+"And yet legally you're a pirate."
+
+"Oh, that? Well, a fellow ain't much of a pirate that plays the game we
+play. And yet----"
+
+"Ah! And yet?"
+
+"Well, sir, some of the boys are getting restless. And I'll be mighty glad
+when we raise that old Dutch bucket of yours. They ain't bad, understand;
+just young and heady and wanting a little fun. They growl a lot because
+they can't sleep on deck. They growl because there's nothing to drink. Of
+course it might hurt Cleigh's feelings, but I'd like to see all his grog
+go by the board. You see, sir, it ain't as if we'd just dropped down from
+Shanghai. It's been tarnation dull ever since we left San Francisco."
+
+"Once on the other boat, they can make a night of it if they want to. But
+I've given my word on the _Wanderer_."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And it's final."
+
+Cunningham returned to his chart. All these cogitations because a woman
+had entered his life uninvited! Ten days ago he had not been aware of her
+existence; and from now on she would be always recurring in his thoughts.
+
+She was not conscious of it, but she was as a wild thing that had been
+born in captivity, and she was tasting the freedom of space again without
+knowing what the matter was. But it is the law that all wild things born
+in captivity lose everything but the echo; a little freedom, a flash of
+what might have been, and they are ready to return to the cage. So it
+would be with her.
+
+Supposing--no, he would let her return to her cage. He wondered--had he
+made his word a law simply to meet and conquer a situation such as this?
+Or was his hesitance due to the fear of her hate? That would be immediate
+and unabating. She was not the sort that would bend--she would break. No,
+he wasn't monster enough to play that sort of game. She should take back
+her little adventure to her cage, and in her old age it would become a
+pleasant souvenir.
+
+He rose and leaned on his arms against a port sill and stared at the stars
+until they began to fade, until the sea and the sky became like the pearls
+he would soon be seeking. A string of glass beads, bringing about all
+these events!
+
+At dawn he went down to the deck for a bit of exercise before he turned
+in. When he beheld Dennison sound asleep in the chair, his mouth slightly
+open, his bare feet standing out conspicuously on the foot rest, a
+bantering, mocking smile twisted the corners of Cunningham's lips.
+Noiselessly he settled himself in the adjacent chair, and cynically hoping
+that Dennison would be first to wake he fell asleep.
+
+The _Wanderer's_ deck toilet was begun and consummated between six and
+six-thirty, except in rainy weather. Hose, mops, and holystone, until the
+teak looked as if it had just left the Rangoon sawmills; then the brass,
+every knob and piping, every latch and hinge and port loop. The care given
+the yacht since leaving the Yang-tse might be well called ingratiating.
+Never was a crew more eager to enact each duty to the utmost--with mighty
+good reason.
+
+But when they came upon Dennison and Cunningham, asleep side by side, they
+drew round the spot, dumfounded. But their befuddlement was only a tithe
+of that which struck Cleigh an hour later. It was his habit to take a
+short constitutional before breakfast; and when he beheld the two, asleep
+in adjoining chairs, the fact suggesting that they had come to some
+friendly understanding, he stopped in his tracks, as they say, never more
+astonished in all his days.
+
+For as long as five minutes he remained motionless, the fine, rugged face
+of his son on one side and the amazing beauty of Cunningham's on the
+other. But in the morning light, in repose, Cunningham's face was tinged
+with age and sadness. There was, however, no grain of pity in Cleigh's
+heart. Cunningham had made his bed of horsehair; let him twist and writhe
+upon it.
+
+But the two of them together, sleeping as peacefully as babes! Dennison
+had one arm flung behind his head. It gave Cleigh a shock, for he
+recognized the posture. As a lad Dennison had slept that way. Cunningham's
+withered leg was folded under his sound one.
+
+What had happened? Cleigh shook his head; he could not make it out.
+Moreover, he could not wake either and demand the solution to the puzzle.
+He could not put his hand on his son's shoulder, and he would not put it
+on Cunningham's. Pride on one side and distaste on the other. But the two
+of them together!
+
+He got round the impasse by kicking out the foot rest of the third chair.
+Immediately Cunningham opened his eyes. First he turned to see if Dennison
+was still in his chair. Finding this to be the case, he grinned amiably at
+the father. Exactly the situation he would have prayed for had he believed
+in the efficacy of prayer.
+
+"Surprises you, eh? Looks as if he had signed on with the Great Adventure
+Company."
+
+His voice woke Dennison, who blinked in the sunshine for a moment, then
+looked about. He comprehended at once.
+
+With easy dignity he swung his bare feet to the deck and made for the
+companion; never a second glance at either his father or Cunningham.
+
+"Chip of the old block!" observed Cunningham. "You two! On my word, I
+never saw two bigger fools in all my time! What's it about? What the devil
+did he do--murder someone, rob the office safe, or marry Tottie Lightfoot?
+And Lord, how you both love me! And how much more you'll love me when I
+become the dear departed!"
+
+Cleigh, understanding that the situation was a creation of pure malice on
+Cunningham's part--Cleigh wheeled and resumed his tramp round the deck.
+
+Cunningham plowed his fingers through his hair, gripped and pulled it in a
+kind of ecstasy. Cleigh's phiz. The memory of it would keep him in good
+humour all day. After all, there was a lot of good sport in the world. The
+days were all right. It was only in the quiet vigils of the night that the
+uninvited thought intruded. On board the old Dutch tramp he would sleep
+o'nights, and the past would present only a dull edge.
+
+If the atoll had cocoanut palms, hang it, he would build a shack and make
+it his winter home! _Dolce far niente!_ Maybe he might take up the brush
+again and do a little amateur painting. Yes, in the daytime the old top
+wasn't so bad. He hoped he would have no more nonsense from Flint. A surly
+beggar, but a necessary pawn in the game.
+
+Pearls! Some to sell and some to play with. Lovely, tenderly beautiful
+pearls--a rope of them round Jane Norman's throat. He slid off the chair.
+As a fool, he hung in the same gallery as the Cleighs.
+
+Cleigh ate his breakfast alone. Upon inquiry he learned that Jane was
+indisposed and that Dennison had gone into the pantry and picked up his
+breakfast there. Cleigh found the day unspeakably dull. He read, played
+the phonograph, and tried all the solitaires he knew; but a hundred times
+he sensed the want of the pleasant voice of the girl in his ears.
+
+What would she be demanding of him as a reparation? He was always sifting
+this query about, now on this side, now on that, without getting anywhere.
+Not money. What then?
+
+That night both Jane and Dennison came in to dinner. Cleigh saw instantly
+that something was amiss. The boy's face was gloomy and his lips locked,
+and the girl's mouth was set and cheerless. Cleigh was fired by curiosity
+to ascertain the trouble, but here again was an impasse.
+
+"I'm sorry I spoke so roughly last night," said Dennison, unexpectedly.
+
+"And I am sorry that I answered you so sharply. But all this worry and
+fuss over me is getting on my nerves. You've written down Cunningham as a
+despicable rogue, when he is only an interesting one. If only you would
+give banter for banter, you might take some of the wind out of his sails.
+But instead you go about as if the next hour was to be our last!"
+
+"Who knows?"
+
+"There you go! In a minute we'll be digging up the hatchet again."
+
+But she softened the reproach by smiling. At this moment Cunningham came
+in briskly and cheerfully. He sat down, threw the napkin across his knees,
+and sent an ingratiating smile round the table.
+
+"Cleigh"--he was always talking to Cleigh, and apparently not minding in
+the least that he was totally ignored--"Cleigh, they are doing a good job
+in the Santa Maria delle Grazie, so I am told. Milan, of course. They are
+restoring Da Vinci's Cenacolo. What called it to mind is the fact that
+this is also the last supper. To-morrow at this hour you will be in
+possession and I'll be off for my pearls."
+
+The recipients of this remarkable news appeared petrified for a space.
+Cunningham enjoyed the astonishment.
+
+"Sounds almost too good to be true, doesn't it? Still, it's a fact."
+
+"That's tiptop news, Cunningham," said Dennison. "I hope when you go down
+the ladder you break your infernal neck. But the luck is on your side."
+
+"Let us hope that it stays there," replied Cunningham, unruffled. He
+turned to Cleigh again: "I say, we've always been bewailing that job of Da
+Vinci's. But the old boy was a seer. He knew that some day there would be
+American millionaires and that I'd become a force in art. So he put his
+subject on a plaster wall so I couldn't lug it off. A canvas the same
+size, I don't say; but the side of a church!"
+
+"A ship is going to pick you up to-morrow?" asked Jane.
+
+"Yes. The crew of the _Wanderer_ goes to the _Haarlem_ and the _Haarlem_
+crew transships to the _Wanderer_. You see, Cleigh, I'm one of those
+efficiency sharks. In this game I have left nothing to chance. Nothing
+except an act of God--as they say on the back of your steamer ticket--can
+derange my plans. Not the least bit of inconvenience to you beyond going
+out of your course for a few days. The new crew was signed on in
+Singapore--able seamen wanting to return to the States. Hired them in your
+name. Clever idea of me, eh?"
+
+"Very," said Cleigh, speaking directly to Cunningham for the first time
+since the act of piracy.
+
+"And this will give you enough coal to turn and make Manila, where you can
+rob the bunkers of one of your freighters. Now, then, early last winter in
+New York a company was formed, the most original company in all this rocky
+old world--the Great Adventure Company, of which I am president and
+general adviser. Pearls! Each member of the crew is a shareholder,
+undersigned at fifteen hundred shares, par value one dollar. These shares
+are redeemable October first in New York City if the company fails, or are
+convertible into pearls of equal value if we succeed. No widows and
+orphans need apply. Fair enough."
+
+"Fair enough, indeed," admitted Cleigh.
+
+Dennison stared at his father. He did not quite understand this
+willingness to hold converse with the rogue after all this rigorously
+maintained silence.
+
+"Of course the Great Adventure Company had to be financed," went on
+Cunningham with a deprecating gesture.
+
+"Naturally," assented Cleigh. "And that, I suppose, will be my job?"
+
+"Indirectly. You see, Eisenfeldt told me he had a client ready to pay
+eighty thousand for the rug, and that put the whole idea into my noodle."
+
+"Ah! Well, you will find the crates and frames and casings in the forward
+hold," said Cleigh in a tone which conveyed nothing of his thoughts. "It
+would be a pity to spoil the rug and the oils for the want of a little
+careful packing."
+
+Cunningham rose and bowed.
+
+"Cleigh, you are a thoroughbred!"
+
+Cleigh shook his head.
+
+"I'll have your hide, Cunningham, if it takes all I have and all I am!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+Cunningham sat down. "The spirit is willing, Cleigh, but the flesh is
+weak. You'll never get my hide. How will you go about it? Stop a moment
+and mull it over. How are you going to prove that I've borrowed the rug
+and the paintings? These are your choicest possessions. You have many at
+home worth more, but these things you love. Out of spite, will you inform
+the British, the French, the Italian governments that you had these
+objects and that I relieved you of them? In that event you'll have my
+hide, but you'll never set eyes upon the oils again except upon their
+lawful walls--the rug, never! On the other hand, there is every chance in
+the world of my returning them to you."
+
+"Your word?" interrupted Jane, ironically.
+
+So Cleigh was right? A quarter of a million in art treasures!
+
+"My word! I never before realized," continued Cunningham, "what a fine
+thing it is to possess something to stand on firmly--a moral plank."
+
+Dennison's laughter was sardonic.
+
+"Moral plank is good," was his comment.
+
+"Miss Norman," said Cunningham, maliciously, "I slept beside the captain
+this morning, and he snores outrageously." The rogue tilted his chin and
+the opal fire leaped into his eyes. "Do you want me to tell you all about
+the Great Adventure Company, or do you want me to shut up and merely
+proceed with the company's business without further ado? Why the devil
+should I care what you think of me? Still, I do care. I want you to get my
+point of view--a rollicking adventure, in which nobody loses anything and
+I have a great desire fulfilled. Hang it, it's a colossal joke, and in the
+end the laugh will be on nobody! Even Eisenfeldt will laugh," he added,
+enigmatically.
+
+"Do you intend to take the oils and the rug and later return them?"
+demanded Jane.
+
+"Absolutely! That's the whole story. Only Cleigh here will not believe it
+until the rug and oils are dumped on the door-step of his New York home. I
+needed money. Nobody would offer to finance a chart with a red cross on
+it. So I had to work it out in my own fashion. The moment Eisenfeldt sees
+these oils and the rug he becomes my financier, but he'll never put his
+claw on them except for one thing--that act of God they mention on the
+back of your ticket. Some raider may have poked into this lagoon of mine.
+In that case Eisenfeldt wins."
+
+Cleigh smiled.
+
+"A pretty case, Cunningham, but it won't hold water. It is inevitable that
+Eisenfeldt gets the rug and the paintings, and you are made comfortable
+for the rest of your days. A shabby business, and you shall rue it."
+
+"My word?"
+
+"I don't believe in it any longer," returned Cleigh.
+
+Cunningham appealed to Jane.
+
+"Give me the whole story, then I'll tell you what I believe," she said.
+"You may be telling the truth."
+
+What a queer idea--wanting his word believed! Why should it matter to him
+whether they believed in the honour of his word or not, when he held the
+whip hand and could act as he pleased? The poor thing! And as that phrase
+was uttered in thought, the glamour of him was dissipated; she saw
+Cunningham as he was, a poor benighted thing, half boy, half demon, a
+thing desperately running away from his hurt and lashing out at friends
+and enemies alike on the way.
+
+"Tell your story--all of it."
+
+Cunningham began:
+
+"About a year ago the best friend I had--perhaps the only friend I
+had--died. He left me his chart and papers. The atoll is known, but
+uncharted, because it is far outside the routes. I have no actual proofs
+that there will be shell in the lagoon; I have only my friend's word--the
+word of a man as honest as sunshine. Where this shell lies there is never
+any law. Some pearl thiever may have fallen upon the shell since my friend
+discovered it."
+
+"In that case," said Cleigh, "I lose?"
+
+"Frankly, yes! All financial ventures are attended by certain risks."
+
+"Money? Why didn't you come to me for that?"
+
+"What! To you?"
+
+Cunningham's astonishment was perfect.
+
+"Yes. There was a time when I would have staked a good deal on your
+word."
+
+Cunningham rested his elbows on the table and clutched his hair--a
+despairing gesture.
+
+"No use! I can't get it to you! I can't make you people understand! It
+isn't the pearls, it's the game; it's all the things that go toward the
+pearls. I want to put over a game no man ever played before."
+
+Jane began to find herself again drawn toward him, but no longer with the
+feeling of unsettled mystery. She knew now why he drew her. He was the
+male of the species to which she belonged--the out-trailer, the hater of
+humdrum, of dull orbits and of routine. The thrilling years he had
+spent--business! This was the adventure of which he had always dreamed,
+and since it would never arrive as a sequence, he had proceeded to
+dramatize it! He was Tom Sawyer grown up; and for a raft on the
+Mississippi substitute a seagoing yacht. There was then in this
+matter-of-fact world such a man, and he sat across the table from her!
+
+"Supposing I had come to you and you had advanced the money?" said
+Cunningham, earnestly. "All cut and dried, not a thrill, not a laugh,
+nothing but the pearls! I have never had a boyhood dream realized but,
+hang it, I'm going to realize this one!" He struck the table violently.
+"Set the British after me, and you'll never see this stuff again. You'll
+learn whether my word is worth anything or not. Lay off for eight months,
+and if your treasures are not yours again within that time you won't have
+to chase me. I'll come to you and have the tooth pulled without gas."
+
+Dennison's eyes softened a little. Neither had he realized any of his
+boyhood dreams. For all that, the fellow was as mad as a hatter.
+
+"Of course I'm a colossal ass, and half the fun is knowing that I am." The
+banter returned to Cunningham's tongue. "But this thing will go
+through--I feel it. I will have had my fun, and you will have loaned your
+treasures to me for eight months, and Eisenfeldt will have his principal
+back without interest. The treasures go directly to a bank vault. There
+will be two receipts, one dated September--mine; and one dated
+November--Eisenfeldt's. I hate Eisenfeldt. He's tricky; his word isn't
+worth a puff of smoke; he's ready at all times to play both ends from the
+middle. I want to pay him out for crossing my path in several affairs.
+He's betting that I will find no pearls. So to-morrow I will exhibit the
+rug and the Da Vinci to convince him, and he will advance the cash. Can't
+you see the sport of it?"
+
+"That would make very good reading," said Cleigh, scraping the shell of
+his avocado pear. "I can get you on piracy."
+
+"Prove it! You can say I stole the yacht, but you can't prove it. The crew
+is yours; you hired it. The yacht returns to you to-morrow without a
+scratch on her paint. And the new crew will know absolutely nothing, being
+as innocent as newborn babes. Cleigh, you're no fool. What earthly chance
+have you got? You love that rug. You're not going to risk losing it
+positively, merely to satisfy a thirst for vengeance. You're human. You'll
+rave and storm about for a few days, then you'll accept the game as it
+lies. Think of all the excitement you'll have when a telegram arrives or
+the phone rings! I told you it was a whale of a joke; and in late October
+you'll chuckle. I know you, Cleigh. Down under all that tungsten there is
+the place of laughter. It will be better to laugh by yourself than to have
+the world laugh at you. Hoist by his own petard! There isn't a newspaper
+syndicate on earth that wouldn't give me a fortune for just the yarn. Now,
+I don't want the world to laugh at you, Cleigh."
+
+"Considerate of you."
+
+"Because I know what that sort of laughter is. Could you pick up the old
+life, the clubs? Could a strong man like you exist in an atmosphere of
+suppressed chuckles? Mull it over. If these treasures were honourably
+yours I'd never have thought of touching them. But you haven't any more
+right to them than I have, or Eisenfeldt."
+
+Dennison leaned back in his chair. He began to laugh.
+
+"Cunningham, my apologies," he said. "I thought you were a scoundrel, and
+you are only a fool--the same brand as I! I've been aching to wring your
+neck, but that would have been a pity. For eight months life will be full
+of interest for me--like waiting for the end of a story in the magazines."
+
+"But there is one thing missing out of the tale," Jane interposed.
+
+"And what is that?" asked Cunningham.
+
+"Those beads."
+
+"Oh, those beads! They belonged to an empress of France, and the French
+Government is offering sixty thousand for their return. Napoleonic. And
+now will you answer a question of mine? Where have you hidden them?"
+
+Jane did not answer, but rose and left the dining salon. Silence fell upon
+the men until she returned. In her hand she held Ling Foo's brass hand
+warmer. She set it on the table and pried back the jigsawed lid. From the
+heap of punk and charcoal ashes she rescued the beads and laid them on the
+cloth.
+
+"Very clever. They are yours," said Cunningham.
+
+"Mine?"
+
+"Why not? Findings is keepings. They are as much yours as mine."
+
+Jane pushed the string toward Cleigh.
+
+"For me?" he said.
+
+"Yes--for nothing."
+
+"There is sixty thousand dollars in gold in my safe. When we land in San
+Francisco I will turn over the money to you. You have every right in the
+world to it."
+
+Cleigh blew the ash from the glass beads and circled them in his palm.
+
+"I repeat," she said, "they are yours."
+
+Cunningham stood up.
+
+"Well, what's it to be?"
+
+"I have decided to reserve my decision," answered Cleigh, dryly. "To hang
+you 'twixt wind and water will add to the thrill, for evidently that's
+what you're after."
+
+"If it's on your own you'll only be wasting coal."
+
+Cleigh toyed with the beads.
+
+"The _Haarlem_. Maybe I can save you a lot of trouble," said Cunningham.
+"The name is only on her freeboard and stern, not on her master's ticket.
+The moment we are hull down the old name goes back." Cunningham turned to
+Jane. "Do you believe I've put my cards on the table?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And that if I humanly can I'll keep my word?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That's worth many pearls of price!"
+
+"Supposing," said Cleigh, trickling the beads from palm to
+palm--"supposing I offered you the equivalent in cash?"
+
+"No, Eisenfeldt has my word."
+
+"You refuse?" Plainly Cleigh was jarred out of his calm. "You refuse?"
+
+"I've already explained," said Cunningham, wearily. "I've told you that I
+like sharp knives to play with. If you handle them carelessly you're cut.
+How about you?" Cunningham addressed the question to Dennison.
+
+"Oh, I'm neutral and interested. I've always had a sneaking admiration for
+a tomfool. They were Shakespeare's best characters. Consider me neutral."
+
+Cleigh rose abruptly and stalked from the salon.
+
+Cunningham lurched and twisted to the forward passage and disappeared.
+
+When next Jane saw him in the light he was bloody and terrible.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+Jane and Dennison were alone. "I wonder," he said, "are we two awake, or
+are we having the same nightmare?"
+
+"The way he hugs his word! Imagine a man stepping boldly and mockingly
+outside the pale, and carrying along his word unsullied with him! He's
+mad, Denny, absolutely mad! The poor thing!"
+
+That phrase seemed to liberate something in his mind. The brooding
+oppression lifted its siege. His heart was no longer a torture chamber.
+
+"I ought to be his partner, Jane. I'm as big a fool as he is. Who but a
+fool would plan and execute a game such as this? But he's sound on one
+point. It's a colossal joke."
+
+"But your father?"
+
+"Cunningham will have to dig a pretty deep hole somewhere if he expects to
+hide successfully. It's a hundred-to-one shot that father will never see
+his rug again. He probably realizes that, and he will be relentless. He'll
+coal at Manila and turn back. He'll double or triple the new crew's wages.
+Money will mean nothing if he starts after Cunningham. Of course I'll be
+out of the picture at Manila."
+
+"Do you know why your father kidnaped me so easily? I thought maybe I
+could find a chink in his armour and bring you two together."
+
+"And you've found the job hopeless!" Dennison shrugged.
+
+"Won't you tell me what the cause was?"
+
+"Ask him. He'll tell it better than I can. So you hid the beads in that
+hand-warmer! Not half bad. But why don't you take the sixty thousand?"
+
+"I've an old-fashioned conscience."
+
+"I don't mean Father's gold, but the French Government's. Comfort as long
+as you lived."
+
+"No, I could not touch even that money. The beads were stolen."
+
+"Lord, Lord! Then there are three of us--Cunningham, myself, and you!"
+
+"Are you calling me a tomfool?"
+
+"Not exactly. What's the feminine?"
+
+She laughed and rose.
+
+"You are almost human to-night."
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"I'm going to have a little talk with your father."
+
+"Good luck. I'm going to have a fresh pot of coffee. I shall want to keep
+awake to-night."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, just an idea. You'd better turn in when the interview is over. Good
+luck."
+
+Jane stood framed in the doorway for a moment. Under the reading lamp in
+the main salon she saw Cleigh. He was running the beads from hand to hand
+and staring into space. Behind her she heard Dennison's spoon clatter in
+the cup as he stirred the coffee.
+
+Wild horses! She felt as though she were being pulled two ways by wild
+horses! For she was about to demand of Anthony Cleigh the promised
+reparation. And which of two things should she demand? All this time,
+since Cleigh had uttered the promise, she had had but one thought--to
+bring father and son together, to do away with this foolish estrangement.
+For there did not seem to be on earth any crime that merited such a
+condition. If he humanly could--he had modified the promise with that.
+What was more human than to forgive--a father to forgive a son?
+
+And now Cunningham had to wedge in compellingly! She could hesitate
+between Denny and Cunningham! The rank disloyalty of it shocked her. To
+give Cunningham his eight months! Pity, urgent pity for the broken body
+and tortured soul of the man--mothering pity! Denny was whole and sound,
+mentally and physically; he would never know any real mental torture,
+anything that compared with Cunningham's, which was enduring, now waxing,
+now waning, but always sensible. To secure for him his eight months,
+without let or hindrance from the full enmity of Cleigh; to give him his
+boyhood dream, whether he found his pearls or not. Her throat became
+stuffed with the presage of tears. The poor thing!
+
+But Denny, parting from his father at Manila, the cleavage wider than
+ever, beyond hope! Oh, she could not tolerate the thought of that! These
+two, so full of strong and bitter pride--they would never meet again if
+they separated now. Perhaps fate had assigned the role of peacemaker to
+her, and she had this weapon in her hand to enforce it or bring it
+about--the father's solemn promise to grant whatever she might ask. And
+she could dodder between Denny and Cunningham!
+
+To demand both conditions would probably appeal to Cleigh as not humanly
+possible. One or the other, but not the two together.
+
+An interval of several minutes of which she had no clear recollection, and
+then she was conscious that she was reclining in her chair on deck,
+staring at the stars which appeared jerkily and queerly shaped--through
+tears. She hadn't had the courage to make a decision. As if it became any
+easier to solve by putting it over until to-morrow!
+
+Chance--the Blind Madonna of the Pagan--was preparing to solve the riddle
+for her--with a thunderbolt!
+
+The mental struggle had exhausted Jane somewhat, and she fell into a doze.
+When she woke she was startled to see by her wrist watch that it was after
+eleven. The yacht was plowing along through the velvet blackness of the
+night. The inclination to sleep gone, Jane decided to walk the deck until
+she was as bodily tired as she was mentally. All the hidden terror was
+gone. To-morrow these absurd pirates would be on their way.
+
+Study the situation as she might, she could discover no flaw in this
+whimsical madman's plans. He held the crew in his palm, even as he held
+Cleigh--by covetousness. Cleigh would never dare send the British after
+Cunningham; and the crew would obey him to the letter because that meant
+safety and recompense. The Great Adventure Company! Only by an act of God!
+And what could possibly happen between now and the arrival of the
+_Haarlem_?
+
+Cleigh had evidently turned in, for through the transoms she saw that the
+salon lights were out. She circled the deck house six times, then went up
+to the bow and stared down the cutwater at the phosphorescence. Blue
+fire! The eternal marvel of the sea!
+
+A hand fell upon her shoulder. She thought it would be Denny's. It was
+Flint's!
+
+"Be a good sport, an' give us a kiss!"
+
+She drew back, but he caught her arm. His breath was foul with tobacco and
+whisky.
+
+"All right, I'll take it!"
+
+With her free hand she struck him in the face. It was a sound blow, for
+Jane was no weakling. That should have warned Flint that a struggle would
+not be worth while. But where's the drunken man with caution? The blow
+stung Flint equally in flesh and spirit. He would kiss this woman if it
+was the last thing he ever did!
+
+Jane fought him savagely, never thinking to call to the bridge. Twice she
+escaped, but each time the fool managed to grasp either her waist or her
+skirt. Then out of nowhere came the voice of Cunningham:
+
+"Flint!"
+
+Dishevelled and breathless, Jane found herself free. She stumbled to the
+rail and rested there for a moment. Dimly she could see the two men
+enacting a weird shadow dance. Then it came to her that Cunningham would
+not be strong enough to vanquish Flint, so she ran aft to rouse Denny.
+
+As she went down the companionway, her knees threatening to give way, she
+heard voices, blows, crashings against the partitions. Instinct told her
+to seek her cabin and barricade the door; curiosity drove her through the
+two darkened salons to the forward passage. Only a single lamp was on, but
+that was enough. Anthony Cleigh's iron-gray head towering above a
+whirlwind of fists and forearms!
+
+What had happened? This couldn't be real! She was still in her chair on
+deck, and what she saw was nightmare! Out of the calm, all in a moment,
+this! Where was Denny, if this picture wasn't nightmare? Cunningham above,
+struggling with the whisky-maddened Flint--Cleigh fighting in the passage!
+Dear God, what had happened?
+
+Where was Denny? The question let loose in her heart and mind all that was
+emotional, at the same time enchaining her to the spot where she stood.
+Denny! Why, she loved Denny! And she had not known it consciously until
+this moment. Because some presciential instinct warned her that Denny was
+either dead or badly hurt!
+
+The narrowness of the passage gave Cleigh one advantage--none of the men
+could get behind him. Sometimes he surged forward a little, sometimes he
+stepped back, but never back of the line he had set for himself. By and by
+Jane forced her gaze to the deck to see what it was that held him like a
+rock. What she saw was only the actual of what she had already
+envisaged--Denny, either dead or badly hurt!
+
+What had happened was this: Six of the crew, those spirits who had
+succumbed to the secret domination of the man Flint--the drinkers--had
+decided to celebrate the last night on the _Wanderer_. Their argument was
+that old man Cleigh wouldn't miss a few bottles, and that it would be a
+long time between drinks when they returned to the States; and never might
+they again have so easy a chance to taste the juice of the champagne
+grape. Where was the harm? Hadn't they behaved like little Fauntleroys for
+weeks? They did not want any trouble--just half a dozen bottles, and back
+to the forepeak to empty them. That wouldn't kill the old man. They
+wouldn't even have to force the door of the dry-stores; they had already
+learned that they could tickle the lock out of commission by the use of a
+bent wire. Young, restless, and mischievous--none of them bad. A bit of
+laughter and a few bars of song--that was all they wanted. No doubt the
+affair would have blown itself out harmlessly but for the fact that Chance
+had other ideas. She has a way with her, this Pagan Madonna, of taking off
+the cheerful motley of a jest and substituting the Phrygian cap of terror,
+subitaneously.
+
+Dennison had lain down on the lounge in the main salon. Restless, unhappy,
+bitter toward his father, he had lain there counting the throbs of the
+engine to that point where they mysteriously cease to register and one has
+to wait a minute or two to pick up the throb again.
+
+For years he had lived more or less in the open, which attunes the human
+ear to sounds that generally pass unnoticed. All at once he was sure that
+he had heard the tinkle of glass, but he waited. The tinkle was repeated.
+Instinct led him at once to the forward passage, and one glance down this
+was sufficient. From the thought of a drunken orgy--the thing he had been
+fearing since the beginning of this mad voyage--his thought leaped to
+Jane. Thus his subsequent acts were indirectly in her defense.
+
+"What the devil are you up to there?" he called.
+
+The unexpectedness of the challenge disconcerted the men. They had enough
+loot. A quick retreat, and Dennison would have had nothing to do but close
+the dry-stores door. But middle twenties are belligerent rather than
+discreet.
+
+"What you got to say about it?" jeered one of the men, shifting his brace
+of bottles to the arms of another and squaring off.
+
+Dennison rushed them, and the melee began. It was a strenuous affair
+while it lasted. When a strong man is full of anger and bitter
+disappointment, when six young fellows are bored to distraction, nothing
+is quite so satisfying as an exchange of fisticuffs. Dennison had the
+advantage of being able to hit right and left, at random, while his
+opponents were not always sure that a blow landed where it was directed.
+
+Naturally the racket drew Cleigh to the scene, and he arrived in time to
+see a champagne bottle descend upon the head of his son. Dennison went
+down.
+
+Cleigh, boiling with impotent fury, had gone to bed, not to sleep but to
+plan; some way round the rogue, to trip him and regain the treasures that
+meant so much to him. Like father, like son. When he saw what was going on
+in the passage he saw also that here was something that linked up with his
+mood. Of course it was to defend the son; but without the bitter rage and
+the need of physical expression he would have gone for the hidden revolver
+and settled the affair with that. Instead he flew at the men with the
+savageness of a gray wolf. He was a tower of a man, for all his sixty
+years; and he had mauled three of the crew severely before Cunningham
+arrived.
+
+Why had the mutinous six offered battle? Why hadn't they retreated with
+good sense at the start? Originally all they had wanted was the wine. Why
+stop to fight when the wine was theirs? In the morning none of them could
+answer these questions. Was there ever a rough-and-tumble that anybody
+could explain lucidly the morning after? Perhaps it was the false pride of
+youth; the bitter distaste at the thought of six turning tail for one.
+
+Cunningham fired a shot at the ceiling, and a dozen of the crew came
+piling in from the forward end of the passage. The fighting stopped
+magically.
+
+"You fools!" cried Cunningham in a high, cracked voice. "To put our heads
+into hemp at the last moment. If anything happens to young Cleigh, back to
+Manila you go with the yacht! Clear out! At the last moment!" It was like
+a sob.
+
+Jane, still entranced, saw Cleigh stoop and put his arms under the body of
+his son, heave, and stand up under the dead weight. He staggered past her
+toward the main salon. She heard him mutter.
+
+"God help me if I'm too late--if I've waited too long! Denny?"
+
+That galvanized her into action, and she flew to the light buttons,
+flooding both the dining and the main salons. She helped Cleigh to place
+Dennison on the lounge. After that it was her affair. Dennison was alive,
+but how much alive could be told only by the hours. She bathed and
+bandaged his head. Beyond that she could do nothing but watch and wait.
+
+"I wouldn't mind--a little of that--water," said Cunningham, weakly.
+
+Cleigh, with menacing fists, wheeled upon him; but he did not strike the
+man who was basically the cause of Denny's injuries. At the same time
+Jane, looking up across Dennison's body, uttered a gasp of horror. The
+entire left side of Cunningham was drenched in blood, and the arm
+dangled.
+
+"Flint had a knife--and--was quite handy with it."
+
+"For me!" she cried. "For defending me! Mr. Cleigh, Flint caught me on
+deck--and Mr. Cunningham--oh, this is horrible!"
+
+"You were right, Cleigh. The best-laid plans of mice and men! What an ass
+I am! I honestly thought I could play a game like this without hurt to
+anybody. It was to be a whale of a joke. Flint----"
+
+Cunningham reached blindly for the nearest chair and collapsed in it.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+An hour later. The four of them were still in the main salon. Jane sat at
+the head of the lounge, and from time to time she took Dennison's pulse
+and temperature. She had finally deduced that there had been no serious
+concussion. Cleigh sat at the foot of the lounge, his head on his hands.
+Cunningham occupied the chair into which he had collapsed. Three ugly
+flesh wounds, but nothing a little time would not heal. True, he had had a
+narrow squeak. He sat with his eyes closed.
+
+"Why?" asked Jane suddenly, breaking the silence.
+
+"What?" said Cleigh, looking up.
+
+"Why these seven years--if you cared? I heard you say something about
+being too late. Why?"
+
+"I'm a queer old fool. An idea, when it enters my head, sticks. I can't
+shift my plans easily; I have to go through. What you have witnessed these
+several days gives you the impression that I have no heart. That isn't
+true. But we Cleighs are pigheaded. Until he was sent to Russia he was
+never from under the shadow of my hand. My agents kept me informed of all
+his moves, his adventures. The mistake was originally mine. I put him in
+charge of an old scholar who taught him art, music, languages, but little
+or nothing about human beings. I gave him a liberal allowance; but he was
+a queer lad, and Broadway never heard of him. Now I hold that youth must
+have its fling in some manner or other; after thirty there is no cure for
+folly. So when he ran away I let him go; but he never got so far away that
+I did not know what he was doing. I liked the way he rejected the cash I
+gave him; the way he scorned to trade upon the name. He went clean. Why? I
+don't know. Oh, yes, he got hilariously drunk once in a while, but he had
+his fling in clean places. I had agents watching him."
+
+"Why did he run away?" asked Jane.
+
+"No man can tell another man; a man has to find it out for himself--the
+difference between a good woman and a bad one."
+
+"I play that statement to win," interposed Cunningham without opening his
+eyes.
+
+"There was a woman?" said Jane.
+
+"A bad one. Pretty and clever as sin. My fault. I should have sent him to
+college where he'd have got at least a glimmer of life. But I kept him
+under the tutor until the thing happened. He thought he was in love, when
+it was only his first woman. She wanted his money--or, more properly
+speaking, mine. I had her investigated and found that she was bad all
+through. When I told him boldly what she was he called me a liar. I struck
+him across the mouth, and he promptly knocked me down."
+
+"Pretty good punch for a youngster," was Cunningham's comment.
+
+"It was," replied Cleigh, grimly. "He went directly to his room, packed,
+and cleared out. In that he acted wisely, for at that moment I would have
+cast him out had he come with an apology. But the following day I could
+not find him; nor did I get track of him until weeks later. He had married
+the woman and then found her out. That's all cleared off the slate,
+though. She's been married and divorced three times since then."
+
+"Did you expect to see him over here?"
+
+"In Shanghai? No. The sight of him rather knocked me about. You
+understand? It was his place to make the first sign. He was in the wrong,
+and he has known it all these seven years."
+
+"No," said Jane, "it was your place to make the first advance. If you had
+been a comrade to him in his boyhood he would never have been in the
+wrong."
+
+"But I gave him everything!"
+
+"Everything but love. Did you ever tell him a fairy story?"
+
+"A fairy story!" Cleigh's face was the essence of bewilderment.
+
+"You put him in the care of a lovable old dreamer, and then expected him
+to accept life as you knew it."
+
+Cleigh rumpled his cowlicks. A fairy story? But that was nonsense! Fairy
+stories had long since gone out of fashion.
+
+"When I saw you two together an idea popped into my head. But do you care
+for the boy?"
+
+"I care everything for him--or I shouldn't be here!"
+
+Cunningham relaxed a little more in his chair, his eyes still closed.
+
+"What do you mean by that?" demanded Cleigh.
+
+"I let you abduct me. I thought, maybe, if I were near you for a little I
+might bring you two together."
+
+"Well, now!" said Cleigh, falling into the old New England vernacular
+which was his birthright. "I brought you on board merely to lure him after
+you. I wanted you both on board so I could observe you. I intended to
+carry you both off on a cruise. I watched you from the door that night
+while you two were dining. I saw by his face and his gestures that he
+would follow you anywhere."
+
+"But I--I am only a professional nurse. I'm nobody! I haven't anything!"
+
+"Good Lord, will you listen to that?" cried the pirate, with a touch of
+his old banter. "Nobody and nothing?"
+
+Neither Jane nor Cleigh apparently heard this interpolation.
+
+"Why did you maltreat him?"
+
+"Otherwise he would have thought I was offering my hand, that I had
+weakened."
+
+"And you expected him to fall on your shoulder and ask your pardon after
+that? Mr. Cleigh, for a man of your intellectual attainments, your stand
+is the biggest piece of stupidity I ever heard of! How in the world was he
+to know what your thoughts were?"
+
+"I was giving him his chance," declared Cleigh, stubbornly.
+
+"A yacht? It's a madhouse," gibed Cunningham. "And this is a convention of
+fools!"
+
+"How do you want me to act?" asked Cleigh, surrendering absolutely.
+
+"When he comes to, take his hand. You don't have to say anything else."
+
+"All right."
+
+From Dennison's lips came a deep, long sigh. Jane leaned over.
+
+"Denny?" she whispered.
+
+The lids of Dennison's eyes rolled back heavily.
+
+"Jane--all right?" he asked, quickly.
+
+"Yes. How do you feel?"
+
+He reached out a hand whence her voice came. She met the hand with hers,
+and that seemed to be all he wanted just then.
+
+"You'd better get your bathrobe, Mr. Cleigh," she suggested.
+
+Cleigh became conscious for the first time of the condition of his pyjama
+jacket. It hung upon his torso in mere ribbons. He became conscious also
+of the fact that his body ached variously and substantially.
+
+"Thirty-odd years since I was in a racket like this. I'm getting along."
+
+"And on the way," put in Cunningham, "you might call Cleve. I'd feel
+better--stretched out."
+
+"Oh, I had forgotten!" cried Jane, reproaching herself. Weakened as he
+was, and sitting in a chair!
+
+"And don't forget, Cleigh, that I'm master of the _Wanderer_ until I leave
+it. I sympathize deeply," Cunningham went on, ironically, "but I have some
+active troubles of my own."
+
+"And God send they abide with you always!" was Cleigh's retort.
+
+"They will--if that will give you any comfort. Do you know what? You will
+always have me to thank for this. That will be my comforting thought. The
+god in the car!"
+
+Later, when Cleve helped Cunningham into his bunk, the latter asked about
+the crew.
+
+"Scared stiff. They realize that it was a close shave. I've put the fools
+in irons. They're best there until we leave. But we can't do anything but
+forget the racket when we board the Dutchman. Where's that man Flint? We
+can't find him anywhere. He's at the bottom of it. I knew that sooner or
+later there'd be the devil to pay with a woman on board. Probably the
+fool's hiding in the bunkers. I'll give every rat hole a look-see. Pretty
+nearly got you."
+
+"Flint was out of luck--and so was I! I thought in pistols, and forgot
+that there might be a knife or two. I'll be on my feet in the morning.
+Little weak, that's all. Nobody and nothing!" said Cunningham, addressing
+the remark to the crossbeam above his head.
+
+"What's that?" asked Cleve.
+
+"I was thinking out loud. Get back to the chart house. Old Newton may play
+us some trick if he isn't watched. And don't bother to search for Flint. I
+know where he is."
+
+Something in Cunningham's tone coldly touched Cleve's spine. He went out,
+closing the door quietly; and there was reason for the sudden sweat in his
+palms.
+
+Chance! A wry smile stirred one corner of Cunningham's mouth. He had
+boasted that he had left nothing to chance, with this result! Burning up!
+Inward and outward fires! Love beads! Well, what were they if not that?
+But that she would trust him when everything about him should have
+repelled her! Was there a nugget of forgotten gold in his cosmos, and had
+she discovered it? She still trusted him, for he had sensed it in the
+quick but tender touch of her hands upon his throbbing wounds.
+
+To learn, after all these years, that he had been a coward! To have run
+away from misfortune instead of facing it and beating it down!
+
+Pearls! All he had left! And when he found them, what then? Turn them into
+money he no longer cared to spend? Or was this an interlude--a mocking
+interlude, and would to-morrow see his conscience relegated to the dustbin
+out of which it had so oddly emerged?
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Dennison opened his eyes again Jane was still holding his hand. Upon
+beholding his father Dennison held out his free hand.
+
+"Will you take it, Father? I'm sorry."
+
+"Of course I'll take it, Denny. I was an old fool."
+
+"And I was a young one."
+
+"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Cleigh asked, eagerly.
+
+"If it won't be too much trouble."
+
+"No trouble at all."
+
+A hand pressure, a few inconsequent phrases, that is always enough for two
+strong characters in the hour of reconciliation.
+
+Cleigh out of the way, Jane tried to disengage her hand, but Dennison only
+tightened his grip.
+
+"No"--a pause--"it's different now. The old boy will find some kind of a
+job for me. Will you marry me, Jane? I did not speak before, because I
+hadn't anything to offer."
+
+"No?"
+
+"I couldn't offer marriage until I had a job."
+
+"But supposing your father doesn't give you one?"
+
+"Why----"
+
+"You poor boy! I'm only fishing."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"Well, why do you want to marry me?"
+
+"Hang it, because I love you!"
+
+"Why didn't you tell me that in the first place? How was I to know unless
+you told me? But oh, Denny, I want to go home!" She laid her cheek against
+his hand. "I want a garden with a picket fence round it and all the simple
+flowers. I never want another adventure in all my days!"
+
+"Same here!"
+
+A stretch of silence.
+
+"What happened to me?"
+
+"Someone hit you with a wine bottle."
+
+"A vintage--and I never got a swallow!"
+
+"And then your father went to your defense."
+
+"The old boy? Honestly?"
+
+"He stood astride your body until Mr. Cunningham came in and stopped the
+melee."
+
+"Cunningham! They quit?"
+
+"Yes--Flint. I didn't dream it wouldn't be safe to go on deck, and Flint
+caught me. He was drunk. But for Cunningham, I don't know what would have
+happened. I ran and left them fighting, and Flint wounded Cunningham with
+a knife. It was for me, Denny. I feel so sorry for him! So alone, hating
+himself and hating the world, tortured with misunderstanding--good in him
+that he keeps smothering and trampling down. His unbroken word--to hang to
+that!"
+
+"All right. So far as I'm concerned, that cleans the slate."
+
+"I loved you, Denny, but I didn't know how much until I saw you on the
+floor. Do you know what I was going to demand of your father as a
+reparation for bringing me on board? His hand in yours. That was all I
+wanted."
+
+"Always thinking of someone else!"
+
+"That's all the happiness I've ever had, Denny--until now!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+A good deal of orderly commotion took place the following morning.
+Cunningham's crew, under the temporary leadership of Cleve, proceeded to
+make everything shipshape. There was no exuberance; they went at the
+business quietly and grimly. They sensed a shadow overhead. The revolt of
+the six discovered to the others what a rickety bridge they were crossing,
+how easily and swiftly a jest may become a tragedy.
+
+They had accepted the game as a kind of huge joke. Everything had been
+prepared against failure; it was all cut and dried; all they had to do was
+to believe themselves. For days they had gone about their various duties
+thinking only of the gay time that would fall to their lot when they left
+the _Wanderer_. The possibility that Cleigh would not proceed in the
+manner advanced by Cunningham's psychology never bothered them until now.
+Supposing the old man's desire for vengeance was stronger than his love
+for his art objects? He was a fighter; he had proved it last night.
+Supposing he put up a fight and called in the British to help him?
+
+Not one of them but knew what the penalty would be if pursued and caught.
+But Cunningham had persuaded them up to this hour that they would not even
+be pursued; that it would not be humanly possible for Cleigh to surrender
+the hope of eventually recovering his unlawful possessions. And now they
+began to wonder, to fret secretly, to reconsider the ancient saying that
+the way of the transgressor is hard.
+
+On land they could have separated and hidden successfully. Here at sea the
+wireless was an inescapable net. Their only hope was to carry on.
+Cunningham might pull them through. For, having his own hide to consider,
+he would bring to bear upon the adventure all his formidable ingenuity.
+
+At eleven the commotion subsided magically and the men vanished below, but
+at four-thirty they swarmed the port bow, silently if interestedly. If
+they talked at all it was in a whispering undertone.
+
+The mutinous revellers formed a group of their own. They appeared to have
+been roughly handled by the Cleighs. The attitude was humble, the
+expression worriedly sorrowful. Why hadn't they beat a retreat? The
+psychology of their madness escaped them utterly. There was one grain of
+luck--they hadn't killed young Cleigh. What fool had swung that bottle?
+Not one of them could recall.
+
+The engines of the _Wanderer_ stopped, and she rolled lazily in the
+billowing brass, waiting.
+
+Out of the blinding topaz of the sou'west nosed a black object, illusory.
+It appeared to ride neither wind nor water.
+
+From the bridge Cleigh eyed this object dourly, and with a swollen heart
+he glanced from time to time at the crates and casings stacked below. He
+knew that he would never set eyes upon any of these treasures again. When
+they were lowered over the side that would be the end of them. Cunningham
+might be telling the truth as to his intentions; but he was promising
+something that was not conceivably possible, any more than it was possible
+to play at piracy and not get hurt.
+
+At Cleigh's side stood the son, his head swathed in bandages. All day long
+he had been subjected to splitting headaches, and his face looked tired
+and drawn. He had stayed in bed until he had heard "Ship ahoy!"
+
+"Are you going to start something?" he asked.
+
+Cleigh did not answer, but peered through the glass again.
+
+"I don't see how you're going to land him without the British. On the
+other hand, you can't tell. Cunningham might bring the stuff back."
+
+Cleigh laughed, but still held the glass to his eye.
+
+"When and where are you going to get married?"
+
+"Manila. Jane wants to go home, and I want a job."
+
+Cleigh touched his split lips and his bruised cheekbone, for he had had to
+pay for his gallantry; and there was a spot in his small ribs that racked
+him whenever he breathed deeply.
+
+"What the devil do you want of a job?"
+
+"You're not thinking that I'm going back on an allowance? I've had
+independence for seven years, and I'm going to keep it, Father."
+
+"I've money enough"--brusquely.
+
+"That isn't it. I want to begin somewhere and build something for myself.
+You know as well as I do that if I went home on an allowance you'd begin
+right off to dominate me as you used to, and no man is going to do that
+again."
+
+"What can you do?"
+
+"That's the point--I don't know. I've got to find out."
+
+Cleigh lowered the glass.
+
+"Let's see; didn't you work on a sugar plantation somewhere?"
+
+"Yes. How'd you find that out?"
+
+"Never mind about that. I can give you a job, and it won't be soft,
+either. I've a sugar plantation in Hawaii that isn't paying the dividends
+it ought to. I'll turn the management over to you. You make good the
+second year, or back you come to me, domination and all."
+
+"I agree to that--if the plantation can be developed."
+
+"The stuff is there; all it needs is some pep."
+
+"All right, I'll take the job."
+
+"You and your wife shall spend the fall and winter with me. In February
+you can start to work."
+
+"Are you out for Cunningham's hide?"
+
+"What would you do in my place?"
+
+"Sit tight and wait."
+
+Cleigh laughed sardonically.
+
+"Because," went on Dennison, "he's played the game too shrewdly not to
+have other cards up his sleeve. He may find his pearls and return the
+loot."
+
+"Do you believe that? Don't talk like a fool! I tell you, his pearls are
+in those casings there! But, son, I'm glad to have you back. And you've
+found a proper mate."
+
+"Isn't she glorious?"
+
+"Better than that. She's the kind that'll always be fussing over you, and
+that's the kind a man needs. But mind your eye! Don't take it for granted!
+Make her want to fuss over you."
+
+When the oncoming tramp reached a point four hundred yards to the
+southwest of the yacht she slued round broadside. For a moment or two the
+reversed propeller--to keep the old tub from drifting--threw up a
+fountain; and before the sudsy eddies had subsided the longboat began a
+jerky descent. No time was going to be wasted evidently.
+
+The _Haarlem_--or whatever name was written on her ticket--was a picture.
+Even her shadows tried to desert her as she lifted and wallowed in the
+long, burnished rollers. There was something astonishingly impudent about
+her. She reminded Dennison of an old gin-sodden female derelict of the
+streets. There were red patches all over her, from stem to stern, where
+the last coat of waterproof black had blistered off. The brass of her
+ports were green. Her name should have been Neglect. She was probably full
+of smells; and Dennison was ready to wager that in a moderate sea her
+rivets and bedplates whined, and that the pump never rested.
+
+But it occurred to him that there must be some basis of fact in
+Cunningham's pearl atoll, and yonder owner was game enough to take a
+sporting chance; that, or he had been handsomely paid for his charter.
+
+An atoll in the Sulu Archipelago that had been overlooked--that was
+really the incredible part of it. Dennison had first-hand knowledge that
+there wasn't a rock in the whole archipelago that had not been looked over
+and under by the pearl hunters.
+
+He saw the tramp's longboat come staggering across the intervening water.
+Rag-tag and bob-tail of the Singapore docks, crimp fodder--that was what
+Dennison believed he had the right to expect. And behold! Except that they
+were older, the newcomers lined up about average with the departing--able
+seamen.
+
+The transshipping of the crews occupied about an hour. As the longboat's
+boat hook caught the _Wanderer's_ ladder for the third time the crates and
+casings were carried down and carefully deposited in the stern sheets.
+
+About this time Cunningham appeared. He paused by the rail for a minute
+and looked up at the Cleighs, father and son. He was pale, and his
+attitude suggested pain and weakness, but he was not too weak to send up
+his bantering smile. Cleigh, senior, gazed stonily forward, but Dennison
+answered the smile by soberly shaking his head. Dennison could not hear
+Cunningham's laugh, but he saw the expression of it.
+
+Cunningham put his hand on the rail in preparation for the first step,
+when Jane appeared with bandages, castile soap, the last of her stearate
+of zinc, absorbent cotton and a basin of water.
+
+"What's this--a clinic?" he asked.
+
+"You can't go aboard that awful-looking ship without letting me give you a
+fresh dressing," she declared.
+
+"Lord love you, angel of mercy, I'm all right!"
+
+"It was for me. Even now you are in pain. Please!"
+
+"Pain?" he repeated.
+
+For one more touch of her tender hands! To carry the thought of that
+through the long, hot night! Perhaps it was his ever-bubbling sense of
+malice that decided him--to let her minister to him, with the Cleighs on
+the bridge to watch and boil with indignation. He nodded, and she followed
+him to the hatch, where he sat down.
+
+Dennison saw his father's hands strain on the bridge rail, the presage of
+a gathering storm. He intervened by a rough seizure of Cleigh's arm.
+
+"Listen to me, Father! Not a word of reproach out of you when she comes
+up--God bless her! Anything in pain! It's her way, and I'll not have her
+reproached. God alone knows what the beggar saved her from last night! If
+you utter a word I'll cash that twenty thousand--it's mine now--and you'll
+never see either of us after Manila!"
+
+Cleigh gently disengaged his arm.
+
+"Sonny, you've got a man's voice under your shirt these days. All right.
+Run down and give the new crew the once-over, and see if they have a
+wireless man among them."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sunset--a scarlet horizon and an old-rose sea. For a little while longer
+the trio on the bridge could discern a diminishing black speck off to the
+southeast. The _Wanderer_ was boring along a point north of east, Manila
+way. The speck soon lost its blackness and became violet, and then
+magically the streaked horizon rose up behind the speck and obliterated
+it.
+
+"The poor benighted thing!" said Jane. "God didn't mean that he should be
+this kind of a man."
+
+"Does any of us know what God wants of us?" asked Cleigh, bitterly.
+
+"He wants men like you who pretend to the world that they're
+granite-hearted when they're not. Ever since we started, Denny, I've been
+trying to recall where I'd seen your father before; and it came a little
+while ago. I saw him only once--a broken child he'd brought to the
+hospital to be mended. I happened to be passing through the children's
+ward for some reason. He called himself Jones or Brown or Smith--I forget.
+But they told me afterward that he brought on an average of four children
+a month, and paid all expenses until they were ready to go forth, if not
+cured at least greatly bettered. He told the chief that if anybody ever
+followed him he would never come back. Your father's a hypocrite, Denny."
+
+"So that's where I saw you?" said Cleigh, ruminatively. He expanded a
+little. He wanted the respect and admiration of this young woman--his
+son's wife-to-be. "Don't weave any golden halo for me," he added, dryly.
+"After Denny packed up and hiked it came back rather hard that I hadn't
+paid much attention to his childhood. It was a kind of penance."
+
+"But you liked it!"
+
+"Maybe I only got used to it. Say, Denny, was there a wireless man in the
+crew?"
+
+"No. I knew there wouldn't be. But I can handle the key."
+
+"Fine! Come along then."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Do? Why, I'm going to have the Asiatic fleets on his heels inside of
+twenty-four hours! That's what I'm going to do! He's an unprincipled
+rogue!"
+
+"No," interposed Jane, "only a poor broken thing."
+
+"That's no fault of mine. But no man can play this sort of game with me,
+and show a clean pair of heels. The rug and the paintings are gone for
+good. I swore to him that I would have his hide, and have it I will! I
+never break my word."
+
+"Denny," said Jane, "for my sake you will not touch the wireless."
+
+"I'm giving the orders!" roared Cleigh.
+
+"Wait a moment!" said Jane. "You spoke of your word. That first night you
+promised me any reparation I should demand."
+
+"I made that promise. Well?"
+
+"Give him his eight months."
+
+She gestured toward the sea, toward the spot where they had last seen the
+_Haarlem_.
+
+"You demand that?"
+
+"No, I only ask it. I understand the workings of that twisted soul, and
+you don't. Let him have his queer dream--his boyhood adventure. Are you
+any better than he? Were those treasures honourably yours? Fie! No, I
+won't demand that you let him go; I'll only ask it. Because you will not
+deny to me what you gave to those little children--generosity."
+
+Cleigh did not speak.
+
+"I want to love you," she continued, "but I couldn't if there was no mercy
+in your sense of justice. Be merciful to that unhappy outcast, who
+probably never had any childhood, or if he had, a miserable one. Children
+are heartless; they don't know any better. They pointed the finger of
+ridicule and contempt at him--his playmates. Imagine starting life like
+that! And he told me that the first woman he loved--laughed in his face! I
+feel--I don't know why--that he was always without care, from his
+childhood up. He looked so forlorn! Eight months! We need never tell him.
+I'd rather he shouldn't know that I tried to intercede for him. But for
+him we three would not be here together, with understanding. I only ask
+it."
+
+Cleigh turned and went down the ladder. Twenty times he circled the deck;
+then he paused under the bridge and sent up a hail.
+
+"Dinner is ready!"
+
+The moment Jane reached the deck Cleigh put an arm round her.
+
+"No other human being could have done it. It is a cup of gall and
+wormwood, but I'll take it. Why? Because I am old and lonely and want a
+little love. I have no faith in Cunningham's word, but he shall go free."
+
+"How long since you kissed any one?" she asked.
+
+"Many years." And he stooped to her cheek. To press back the old brooding
+thought he said with cheerful brusqueness: "Suppose we celebrate? I'll
+have Togo ice a bottle of that vintage those infernal ruffians broke over
+your head last night."
+
+Dennison laughed.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+October.
+
+The Cleigh library was long and wide. There was a fine old blue Ispahan on
+the floor. The chairs were neither historical nor uncomfortable. One came
+in here to read. The library was on the second floor. When you reached
+this room you left the affairs of state and world behind.
+
+A wood fire crackled and shifted in the fireplace, the marble hood of
+which had been taken from a famous Italian palace. The irons stood ready
+as of yore for the cups of mulled wine. Before this fire sat a little old
+woman knitting. Her feet were on a hassock. From time to time her
+bird-like glance swept the thinker in the adjacent chair. She wondered
+what he could see in the fire there to hold his gaze so steadily. The
+little old lady had something of the attitude of a bird that had been
+given its liberty suddenly, and having always lived in a cage knew not
+what to make of all these vast spaces.
+
+She was Jane's mother, and sitting in the chair beside her was Anthony
+Cleigh.
+
+"There are said to be only five portable authentic paintings by Leonardo
+da Vinci," said Cleigh, "and I had one of them, Mother. Illegally,
+perhaps, but still I had it. It is a copy that hangs in the European
+gallery. There's a point. Gallery officials announce a theft only when
+some expert had discovered the substitution. There are a number of
+so-called Da Vincis, but those are the works of Boltraffio, Da Vinci's
+pupil. I'll always be wondering, even in my grave, where that crook,
+Eisenfeldt, had disposed of it."
+
+Mrs. Norman went on with her knitting. What she heard was as instructive
+and illuminating to her as Chinese would have been.
+
+From the far end of the room came piano music; gentle, dreamy, broken
+occasionally by some fine, thrilling chord. Dennison played well, but he
+had the habit of all amateurs of idling, of starting something, and
+running away into improvisations. Seated beside him on the bench was Jane,
+her head inclined against his shoulder. Perhaps that was a good reason why
+he began a composition and did not carry it through to its conclusion.
+
+"That was a trick of his mother's," said Cleigh, still addressing the
+fire. "All the fine things in him he got from her. I gave him his
+shoulders, but I guess that's about all."
+
+Mrs. Norman did not turn her head. She had already learned that she wasn't
+expected to reply unless Cleigh looked at her directly.
+
+"There's a high wind outside. More rain, probably. But that's October in
+these parts. You'll like it in Hawaii. Never any of this brand of weather.
+I may be able to put the yacht into commission."
+
+"The sea!" she said in a little frightened whisper.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Doorbells!" said Dennison with gentle mockery. "Jane, you're always
+starting up when you hear one. Still hanging on? It isn't Cunningham's
+willingness to fulfill his promise; it's his ability I doubt. A thousand
+and one things may upset his plans."
+
+"I know. But, win or lose, he was to let me know."
+
+"The poor devil! I never dared say so to Father, but when I learned that
+Cunningham meant no harm to you I began to boost for him. I like to see a
+man win against huge odds, and that's what he has been up against."
+
+"Denny, I've never asked before; I've been a little afraid to, but did you
+see Flint when the crew left?"
+
+"I honestly didn't notice; I was so interested in the disreputable old
+hooker that was to take them off."
+
+She sighed. Fragments of that night were always recurring in her dreams.
+
+The door opened and the ancient butler entered. His glance roved until it
+caught the little tuft of iron-gray hair that protruded above the rim of
+the chair by the fire. Noiselessly he crossed the room.
+
+"Beg pardon, sir," he said, "but a van arrived a few minutes ago with a
+number of packing cases. The men said they were for you, sir. The cases
+are in the lower hall. Any orders, sir?"
+
+Cleigh rose.
+
+"Cases? Benson, did you say--cases?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I fancy some paintings you've ordered, sir."
+
+Cleigh stood perfectly still. The butler eyed him with mild perturbation.
+Rarely he saw bewilderment on his master's countenance.
+
+"Cases?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Fourteen or fifteen of them, sir."
+
+Cleigh felt oddly numb. For days now he had denied to himself the reason
+for his agitation whenever the telephone or doorbell rang. Hope! It had
+not served to crush it down, to buffet it aside by ironical commentaries
+on the weakness of human nature; the thing was uncrushable, insistent.
+Packing cases!
+
+"Denny! Jane!" he cried, and bolted for the door.
+
+The call needed no interpretation. The two understood, and followed him
+downstairs precipitately, with the startled Benson the tail to the kite.
+
+"No, no!" shouted Cleigh. "The big one first!" as Dennison laid one of the
+smaller cases on the floor. "Benson, where the devil is the claw hammer?"
+
+The butler foraged in the coat closet and presently emerged with a prier.
+Cleigh literally snatched it from the astonished butler's grasp, pried and
+tore off a board. He dug away at the excelsior until he felt the cool
+glass under his fingers. He peered through this glass.
+
+"Denny, it's the rug!"
+
+Cleigh's voice cracked and broke into a queer treble note.
+
+Jane shook her head. Here was an incurable passion, based upon the
+specious argument that galleries and museums had neither consciences nor
+stomachs. You could not hurt a wall by robbing it of a painting--a passion
+that would abide with him until death. Not one of these treasures in the
+casings was honourably his, but they were more to him than all his
+legitimate possessions. To ask him to return the objects to the galleries
+and museums to which they belonged would be asking Cleigh to tear out his
+heart. Though the passion was incomprehensible, Jane readily observed its
+effects. She had sensed the misery, the anxiety, the stinging curiosity
+of all these months. Not to know exactly what had become of the rug and
+the paintings! Not to know if he would ever see them again! There was only
+one comparison she could bring to bear as an illustration: Cleigh was like
+a man whose mistress had forsaken him without explanations.
+
+She was at once happy and sad: happy that her faith in Cunningham had not
+been built upon sand, sad that she could not rouse Cleigh's conscience.
+Secretly a charitable man, honest in his financial dealings, he could
+keep--in hiding, mind you!--that which did not belong to him. It was
+beyond her understanding.
+
+An idea, which had been nebulous until this moment, sprang into being.
+
+"Father," she said, "you will do me a favour?"
+
+"What do you want--a million? Run and get my check book!" he cried,
+gayly.
+
+"The other day you spoke of making a new will."
+
+Cleigh stared at her.
+
+"Will you leave these objects to the legal owners?"
+
+Cleigh got up, brushing his knees.
+
+"After I am dead? I never thought of that. After I'm dead," he repeated.
+"Child, a conscience like yours is top-heavy. Still, I'll mull it over. I
+can't take 'em to the grave with me, that's a fact. But my ghost is bound
+to get leg-weary doing the rounds to view them again. What do you say,
+Denny?"
+
+"If you don't, I will!"
+
+Cleigh chuckled.
+
+"That makes it unanimous. I'll put it in the codicil. But while I live!
+Benson, what did these men look like? One of them limp?"
+
+"No, sir. Ordinary trucking men, I should say, sir."
+
+"The infernal scoundrel! No message?"
+
+"No, sir. The man who rang the bell said he had some cases for you, and
+asked where he should put them. I thought the hall the best place, sir,
+temporarily."
+
+"The infernal scoundrel!"
+
+"What the dickens is the matter with you, Father!" demanded Dennison.
+"You've got back the loot."
+
+"But how? The story, Denny! The rogue leaves me 'twixt wind and water as
+to how he got out of this hole."
+
+"Maybe he was afraid you still wanted his hide," suggested Jane, now
+immeasurably happy.
+
+"He did it!" said Cleigh, his sense of amazement awakening. "One chance in
+a thousand, and he caught that chance! But never to know how he did it!"
+
+"Aren't you glad now," said Jane, "that you let him go?"
+
+Cleigh chuckled.
+
+"There!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "Just as he said! He
+prophesied that some day you would chuckle over it. He found his pearls.
+He knew he would find them! The bell!" she broke off, startled.
+
+Never had Benson, the butler, witnessed such an exhibition of undignified
+haste. Cleigh, Jane, and Dennison, all three of them started for the door
+at once, jostling. What they found was only a bedraggled messenger boy,
+for it was now raining.
+
+"Mr. Cleigh," said the boy, grumpily, as he presented a letter and a small
+box. "No answer."
+
+"Where is the man who sent you?" asked Jane, tremendously excited.
+
+"De office pushed me on dis job, miss. Dey said maybe I'd git a good tip
+if I hustled."
+
+Dennison thrust a bill into the boy's hand and shunted him forth into the
+night again.
+
+The letter was marked Number One and addressed to Cleigh; the box was
+marked Number Two and addressed to Jane.
+
+Mad, thought Benson, as he began to gather up the loose excelsior; quite
+mad, the three of them.
+
+With Jane at one shoulder and Dennison at the other, Cleigh opened his
+letter. The first extraction was a chart. An atoll; here were groups of
+cocoanut palm, there of plantain; a rudely drawn hut. In the lagoon at a
+point east of north was a red star, and written alongside was a single
+word. But to the three it was an Odyssey--"Shell." In the lower left-hand
+corner of the chart were the exact degrees and minutes of longitude and
+latitude. With this chart a landlubber could have gone straight to the
+atoll.
+
+Next came the letter, which Cleigh did not read aloud--it was not
+necessary. With what variant emotions the three pairs of eyes leaped from
+word to word!
+
+  Friend Buccaneer: Of course I found the shell. That was the one issue
+  which offered no odds. The shell lay in its bed peculiarly under a
+  running ledge. The ordinary pearler would have discovered it only by
+  the greatest good luck. Atherton--my friend--discovered it, because
+  he was a sea naturalist, and was hunting for something altogether
+  different. Atherton was wealthy, and a coral reef was more to him
+  than a pearl. But he knew me and what such a game would mean. He was
+  in ill health and had to leave the South Pacific and fare north. This
+  atoll was his. It is now mine, pearls and all, legally mine. For a
+  trifling sum I could have chartered a schooner and sought the atoll.
+
+  But all my life I've hunted odds--big, tremendous odds--to crush down
+  and swarm over. The only interest I had in life. And so I planted the
+  crew and stole the _Wanderer_ because it presented whopping odds. I
+  selected a young and dare-devil crew to keep me on edge. From one day
+  to another I was always wondering when they would break over. I
+  refused to throw overboard the wines and liquors to make a good
+  measure.
+
+  And there was you. Would you sit tight under such an outrage, or
+  would your want of revenge ride you? Would you send the British
+  piling on top of me, or would you make it a private war? Suspense!
+  Dick Cunningham would not be hard to trace. Old Slue Foot. The
+  biggest odds I'd ever encountered. Nominally, I had about one chance
+  in a thousand of pulling through.
+
+  The presence of Mrs. Cleigh--of course she's Mrs. Cleigh by this
+  time!--added to the zest. To bring her through with nothing more than
+  a scare! Odds, odds! Cleigh, on my word, the pearls would have been
+  of no value without the game I built to go with them. Over the danger
+  route! Mad? Of course I'm mad!
+
+  Four-year-old shell, the pearls of the finest orient! The shell
+  alone--in buttons--would have recouped Eisenfeldt. He was ugly when
+  he saw that I had escaped him. Threatened to expose you. But knowing
+  Eisenfeldt for what he is, I had a little sword of Damocles suspended
+  over his thick neck. The thought of having lost eight months'
+  interest will follow him to Hades.
+
+  The crew gave me no more trouble. They've been paid their dividends
+  in the Great Adventure Company, and have gone seeking others. But
+  I'll warrant they'll take only regular berths in the future.
+
+  And now those beads. I'm sorry, but I'm also innocent. I have learned
+  that Morrissy really double-crossed us all. He had had a copy made in
+  Venice. The beads you have are forgeries. So the sixty thousand
+  offered by the French Government remains uncalled for. Who has the
+  originals I can't say. I'm sorry. Morrissy's game was risky. His idea
+  was to make a sudden breakaway with the beads--lose them in the
+  gutter--and trust to luck that we would just miss killing him, which
+  was the case.
+
+  Leaving to-night. Bought a sloop down there, and I'm going back there
+  to live. Tired of human beings. Tired of myself. Still, there's the
+  chart. Mull it over. Maybe it's an invitation. The lagoon is like
+  turquoise and the land like emerald and the sky a benediction.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+A spell of silence and immobility. Not a word about his battle with Flint,
+thought Jane. A little shiver ran over her. But what a queer, whimsical
+madman! To have planned it all so that he could experience a thrill! The
+tragic beauty of his face and the pitiable, sluing, lurching stride! She
+sighed audibly, so did the two men.
+
+"Denny, I don't know," said Cleigh.
+
+"I do!" said Dennison, anticipating his father's thought. "He's a man, and
+some day I'd like to clasp his hand."
+
+"Maybe we all shall," said Cleigh. "But open the box, Jane, and let's
+see."
+
+Between the layers of cotton wool she found a single pearl as large as a
+hazelnut, pink as the Oriental dawn. One side was slightly depressed, as
+though some mischievous, inquisitive mermaid had touched it in passing.
+
+"Oh, the lovely thing!" she gasped. "The lovely thing! But, Denny, I can't
+accept it!"
+
+"And how are you going to refuse it? Keep it. It is an emblem of what you
+are, honey. The poor devil!"
+
+And he put his arm round her. He understood. Why not? There are certain
+attractions which are irresistible, and Jane was unconscious of her
+possessions.
+
+Jane raised the bottom layer of cotton wool. What impulse led her to do
+this she could not say, but she found a slip of paper across which was
+written:
+
+                 "An' I learned about women from 'er."
+
+All this while, across the street, in the shadow of an areaway, stood a
+man in a mackintosh and a felt hat drawn well down. He had watched the van
+disgorge and roll away, the arrival and the departure of the messenger
+boy.
+
+He began to intone softly: "'Many waters cannot quench love, neither can
+the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his house
+for love, it would utterly be contemned.'"
+
+With a sluing lurch to his stride he started off down the street, into the
+lashing rain. A great joke; and now there was nothing at all to disturb
+his dreams--but the dim white face of Jabez Flint spinning in the dark of
+the sea.
+
+THE END
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS
+GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pagan Madonna, by Harold MacGrath
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