“Has it not already sheltered a princess?” she commented, coolly.

“And I shall not intrude.”

“This is an inducement.”

“Nobody will dare to intrude.  You needn’t even see me.”

“This is almost decisive, only—­”

“I know my place.”

“Only, I might not have the influence,” she finished.

“That I can not believe,” he said, roughly.  “The long and the short of it is you don’t trust me because you think that only people of your own condition speak the truth always.”

“Evidently,” she murmured.

“You say to yourself—­here’s a fellow deep in with pirates, thieves, niggers—­”

“To be sure—­”

“A man I never saw the like before,” went on Lingard, headlong, “a—­ruffian.”

He checked himself, full of confusion.  After a time he heard her saying, calmly: 

“You are like other men in this, that you get angry when you can not have your way at once.”

“I angry!” he exclaimed in deadened voice.  “You do not understand.  I am thinking of you also—­it is hard on me—­”

“I mistrust not you, but my own power.  You have produced an unfortunate impression on Mr. Travers.”

“Unfortunate impression!  He treated me as if I had been a long-shore loafer.  Never mind that.  He is your husband.  Fear in those you care for is hard to bear for any man.  And so, he—­”

“What Machiavellism!”

“Eh, what did you say?”

“I only wondered where you had observed that.  On the sea?”

“Observed what?” he said, absently.  Then pursuing his idea—­“One word from you ought to be enough.”

“You think so?”

“I am sure of it.  Why, even I, myself—­”

“Of course,” she interrupted.  “But don’t you think that after parting with you on such—­such—­inimical terms, there would be a difficulty in resuming relations?”

“A man like me would do anything for money—­don’t you see?”

After a pause she asked: 

“And would you care for that argument to be used?”

“As long as you know better!”

His voice vibrated—­she drew back disturbed, as if unexpectedly he had touched her.

“What can there be at stake?” she began, wonderingly.

“A kingdom,” said Lingard.

Mrs. Travers leaned far over the rail, staring, and their faces, one above the other, came very close together.

“Not for yourself?” she whispered.

He felt the touch of her breath on his forehead and remained still for a moment, perfectly still as if he did not intend to move or speak any more.

“Those things,” he began, suddenly, “come in your way, when you don’t think, and they get all round you before you know what you mean to do.  When I went into that bay in New Guinea I never guessed where that course would take me to.  I could tell you a story.  You would understand!  You!  You!”