“And who are you,” said Hurlstone, more calmly, “who are willing to do this for a stranger?”

“A friend—­equally of yours, the captain’s, and the other passengers’,” replied Senor Perkins pleasantly.  “A man who believes you, my dear sir, and, even if he did not, sees no reason to interrupt the harmony that has obtained in our little community during our delightful passage.  Were any scandal to occur, were you to carry out your idea of throwing yourself overboard, it would, to say nothing of my personal regret, produce a discord for which there is no necessity, and from which no personal good can be derived.  Here at least your secret is secure, for even I do not ask what it is; we meet here on an equality, based on our own conduct and courtesy to each other, limited by no antecedent prejudice, and restrained by no thought of the future.  In a little while we shall be separated—­why should it not be as friends?  Why should we not look back upon our little world of this ship as a happy one?”

Hurlstone gazed at the speaker with a troubled air.  It was once more the quaint benevolent figure whom he had vaguely noted among the other passengers, and as vaguely despised.  He hesitated a moment, and then, half timidly, half reservedly, extended his hand.

“I thank you,” he said, “at least for not asking my secret.  Perhaps, if it was only”—­

“Your own—­you might tell it,” interrupted the Senor, gayly.  “I understand.  I see you recognize my principle.  There is no necessity of your putting yourself to that pain, or another to that risk.  And now, my young friend, time presses.  I must say a word to our friends above, who are waiting, and I shall see that you are taken privately to your state-room while most of the other passengers are still on deck.  If you would permit yourself the weakness of allowing the steward to carry or assist you it would be better.  Let me advise you that the excitement of the last three hours has not left you in your full strength.  You must really give me the pleasure of spreading the glad tidings of your safety among the passengers, who have been so terribly alarmed.”

“They will undoubtedly be relieved,” said Hurlstone, with ironical bitterness.

“You wrong them,” returned the Senor, with gentle reproach; “especially the ladies.”

The voice of the first mate from above here checked his further speech, and, perhaps, prevented him, as he quickly reascended the upper deck, from noticing the slight embarrassment of his prisoner.

The Senor’s explanations to the mate were evidently explicit and brief.  In a few moments he reappeared with the steward and his assistant.

“Lean on these men,” he said to Hurlstone significantly, “and do not overestimate your strength.  Thank Heaven, no bones are broken, and you are only bruised by the fall.  With a little rest, I think we can get along without laying the captain’s medicine-chest under contribution.  Our kind friend Mr. Brooks has had the lower deck cleared, so that you may gain your state-room without alarming the passengers or fatiguing yourself.”