“I see; and as he’s the signal man, the darned fool”—­

“Will give the signal himself.”

The laugh that followed was so cruel that the young girl shuddered.  But the next moment she slipped from the bed, erect, pale, and determined.

The voices seemed gradually to retreat.  She dressed herself hurriedly, and passed noiselessly through the room of her still sleeping parent, and passed out.  A gray fog was lifting slowly over the sands and sea, and the police boat was gone.  She no longer hesitated, but ran quickly in the direction of Jarman’s cabin.  As she ran, her mind seemed to be swept clear of all illusion and fancy; she saw plainly everything that had happened; she knew the mystery of Jarman’s presence here,—­the secret of his life,—­the dreadful cruelty of her remark to him,—­the man that she knew now she loved.  The sun was painting the black arms of the semaphore as she toiled over the last stretch of sand and knocked loudly at the door.  There was no reply.  She knocked again; the cabin was silent.  Had he already fled?—­and without seeing her and knowing all!  She tried the handle of the door; it yielded; she stepped boldly into the room, with his name upon her lips.  He was lying fully dressed upon his couch.  She ran eagerly to his side and stopped.  It needed only a single glance at his congested face, his lips parted with his heavy breath, to see that the man was hopelessly, helplessly drunk!

Yet even then, without knowing that it was her thoughtless speech which had driven him to seek this foolish oblivion of remorse and sorrow, she saw only his helplessness.  She tried in vain to rouse him; he only muttered a few incoherent words and sank back again.  She looked despairingly around.  Something must be done; the steamer might be visible at any moment.  Ah, yes,—­the telescope!  She seized it and swept the horizon.  There was a faint streak of haze against the line of sea and sky, abreast the Golden Gate.  He had once told her what it meant.  It was the steamer!  A sudden thought leaped into her clear and active brain.  If the police boat should chance to see that haze too, and saw no warning signal from the semaphore, they would suspect something.  That signal must be made, but not the right one!  She remembered quickly how he had explained to her the difference between the signals for a coasting steamer and the one that brought the mails.  At that distance the police boat could not detect whether the semaphore’s arms were extended to perfect right angles for the mail steamer, or if the left arm slightly deflected for a coasting steamer.  She ran out to the windlass and seized the crank.  For a moment it defied her strength; she redoubled her efforts:  it began to creak and groan, the great arms were slowly uplifted, and the signal made.