“And yet you have come?”

“Yes,” he answered, “to you—­and for you only.”

The flood tide running strong over the banks made a placid trickling sound about the yacht’s rudder.

“I would not be saved alone.”

“Then you must bring them over yourself,” he said in a sombre tone.  “There’s the brig.  You have me—­my men—­my guns.  You know what to do.

“I will try,” she said.

“Very well.  I am sorry for the poor devils forward there if you fail.  But of course you won’t.  Watch that light on the brig.  I had it hoisted on purpose.  The trouble may be nearer than we think.  Two of my boats are gone scouting and if the news they bring me is bad the light will be lowered.  Think what that means.  And I’ve told you what I have told nobody.  Think of my feelings also.  I told you because I—­because I had to.”

He gave a shove against the yacht’s side and glided away from under her eyes.  A rippling sound died out.

She walked away from the rail.  The lamp and the skylights shone faintly along the dark stretch of the decks.  This evening was like the last—­like all the evenings before.

“Is all this I have heard possible?” she asked herself.  “No—­but it is true.”

She sat down in a deck chair to think and found she could only remember.  She jumped up.  She was sure somebody was hailing the yacht faintly.  Was that man hailing?  She listened, and hearing nothing was annoyed with herself for being haunted by a voice.

“He said he could trust me.  Now, what is this danger?  What is danger?” she meditated.

Footsteps were coming from forward.  The figure of the watchman flitted vaguely over the gangway.  He was whistling softly and vanished.  Hollow sounds in the boat were succeeded by a splash of oars.  The night swallowed these slight noises.  Mrs. Travers sat down again and found herself much calmer.

She had the faculty of being able to think her own thoughts—­and the courage.  She could take no action of any kind till her husband’s return.  Lingard’s warnings were not what had impressed her most.  This man had presented his innermost self unclothed by any subterfuge.  There were in plain sight his desires, his perplexities, affections, doubts, his violence, his folly; and the existence they made up was lawless but not vile.  She had too much elevation of mind to look upon him from any other but a strictly human standpoint.  If he trusted her (how strange; why should he?  Was he wrong?) she accepted the trust with scrupulous fairness.  And when it dawned upon her that of all the men in the world this unquestionably was the one she knew best, she had a moment of wonder followed by an impression of profound sadness.  It seemed an unfortunate matter that concerned her alone.

Her thought was suspended while she listened attentively for the return of the yacht’s boat.  She was dismayed at the task before her.  Not a sound broke the stillness and she felt as if she were lost in empty space.  Then suddenly someone amidships yawned immensely and said:  “Oh, dear!  Oh, dear!” A voice asked:  “Ain’t they back yet?” A negative grunt answered.