“I shall make him a thing like those Italian peasants wear, you know.”

He sewed the coin in the delicate leather, sewed the leather to the ribbon, tied the ends together.  He worked with haste.  Karain watched his fingers all the time.

“Now then,” he said—­then stepped up to Karain.  They looked close into one another’s eyes.  Those of Karain stared in a lost glance, but Hollis’s seemed to grow darker and looked out masterful and compelling.  They were in violent contrast together—­one motionless and the colour of bronze, the other dazzling white and lifting his arms, where the powerful muscles rolled slightly under a skin that gleamed like satin.  Jackson moved near with the air of a man closing up to a chum in a tight place.  I said impressively, pointing to Hollis—­

“He is young, but he is wise.  Believe him!”

Karain bent his head:  Hollis threw lightly over it the dark-blue ribbon and stepped back.

“Forget, and be at peace!” I cried.

Karain seemed to wake up from a dream.  He said, “Ha!” shook himself as if throwing off a burden.  He looked round with assurance.  Someone on deck dragged off the skylight cover, and a flood of light fell into the cabin.  It was morning already.

“Time to go on deck,” said Jackson.

Hollis put on a coat, and we went up, Karain leading.

The sun had risen beyond the hills, and their long shadows stretched far over the bay in the pearly light.  The air was clear, stainless, and cool.  I pointed at the curved line of yellow sands.

“He is not there,” I said, emphatically, to Karain.  “He waits no more.  He has departed forever.”

A shaft of bright hot rays darted into the bay between the summits of two hills, and the water all round broke out as if by magic into a dazzling sparkle.

“No!  He is not there waiting,” said Karain, after a long look over the beach.  “I do not hear him,” he went on, slowly.  “No!”

He turned to us.

“He has departed again—­forever!” he cried.

We assented vigorously, repeatedly, and without compunction.  The great thing was to impress him powerfully; to suggest absolute safety—­the end of all trouble.  We did our best; and I hope we affirmed our faith in the power of Hollis’s charm efficiently enough to put the matter beyond the shadow of a doubt.  Our voices rang around him joyously in the still air, and above his head the sky, pellucid, pure, stainless, arched its tender blue from shore to shore and over the bay, as if to envelop the water, the earth, and the man in the caress of its light.

The anchor was up, the sails hung still, and half-a-dozen big boats were seen sweeping over the bay to give us a tow out.  The paddlers in the first one that came alongside lifted their heads and saw their ruler standing amongst us.  A low murmur of surprise arose—­then a shout of greeting.