I washed up hastily in my stateroom, and came out into the cabin perplexed as to what might occur within the next few moments.  Yet whatever the result, there was no avoiding it.  Would the girl be called to join us, as the Portuguese had threatened?  Had she received my note of warning?  And if so, would she have the strength to play her part so as to avoid suspicion?  Those keen searching eyes of Estada’s would note every movement, observe every fleeting expression.  He had no present doubt of me, only the caution natural to one leading his life of danger.  He believed my story, and nothing thus far had arisen to bring him the slightest doubt.  To his mind I was a reckless adventurer, ruined by drink, a drifting derelict, so glad to be picked up, and given rank, as to be forever grateful and loyal to the one aiding me.  While his instinct made him distrust an Englishman, he already had some measure of faith in me personally, yet this confidence was still so light as to be completely shattered by the slightest mishap.  My every move must be one of extreme caution.

He and Estevan were awaiting me, the latter all rigged out, and with smooth black hair oiled and plastered down upon his forehead.  I never beheld a more disagreeable face, or one which so thoroughly revealed the nature of a man.  As I touched his hand, at Estada’s brief introduction, it was as if I fingered a snake, and expected to be greeted with a kiss.  Gunsaules hovered about an open door leading forward, and the table had been set for four.  As I knew LeVere had eaten alone, before coming to my relief, the only conclusion was that the Portuguese intended that we be joined by the prisoner.  Indeed he gave me little time for doubt.

“This is your chair, Gates, and you will find we live well aboard the Namur—­wine, women and song—­hey, Manuel!  Why not, when all are at command?  Steward, you told the lady what my orders were?”

“Si, Senor.”

“Then bid her join us.”

We stood in silence, as Gunsaules crossed the deck, and inserted a key in the afterstateroom door.  Manuel was grinning in full enjoyment, but the expression on the face of Estada was that of grim cruelty.  Evidently he expected a scene, an outburst of resentment, pleading and tears, and was ready enough to exercise his authority.  Perhaps he meant all this as a lesson to me; perhaps it was no more than a natural exhibition of his nature.  Yet his purpose to conquer was clearly depicted in his features—–­this woman would be made to obey, or else ruthlessly crushed.  I felt my hands grip like iron on my chair back and my teeth clinch in restraint.  God, but I would have liked to grip the fellow where he stood—­all the bottled-up hatred in my soul struggling for action.  Yet that would only mean the death of all hope, and I turned my eyes away from him, and stared with the others at the opening door.  I failed to catch the words Gunsaules uttered, but they were instantly