“What could she find out after all this time, Jeekie?”

“Oh, don’t know.  How I know?  Jeekie can’t guess.  Find out you marry Miss Barbara, p’raps.  Very sick that she lose you for this time, p’raps.  Kill herself that she keep near you, p’raps, while she wait till you come round again, p’raps.  Asika can do all these things if she like, Major.”

“Stuff and rubbish,” answered Alan uneasily, for Jeekie’s suggestions were most uncomfortable, “I believe in none of your West Coast superstitions.”

“Quite right, Major, nor don’t I. Only you ’member, Major, what she show us there in Treasure-place—­Mr. Haswell being buried, eh?  Miss Barbara in tent, eh? t’other job what hasn’t come off yet, eh?  Oh! my golly!  Major, just you look behind you and say you see nothing, please,” and the eyes of Jeekie grew large as Maltese oranges, while with chattering teeth he pointed over the bulwark of the vessel.

Alan turned and saw.

This was what he saw or seemed to see:  The figure of the Asika in her robes and breastplate of gold, standing upon the air, just beyond the ship, as though on it she might set no foot.  Her waving black hair hung about her shoulders, but the sharp wind did not seem to stir it nor did her white dress flutter, and on her beautiful face was stamped a look of awful rage and agony, the rage of betrayal, the agony of loss.  In her right hand she held a knife, and from a wound in her breast the red blood ran down her golden corselet.  She pointed to Jeekie with the knife, she opened her arms to Alan as though in unutterable longing, then slowly raised them upwards towards the fading glory of the sky above—­and was gone.

Jeekie sat down upon the deck, mopping his brow with a red handkerchief, while Alan, who felt faint, clung to the bulwarks.

“Tell you, Major, that Asika can do all that kind of thing.  Never know where you find her next.  ’Spect she come to live with us in England and just call in now and again when it dark.  Tell you, she very awkward customer, think p’raps you done better stop there and marry her.  Well, she gone now, thank Heaven! seem to drop in sea and hope she stay there.”

“Jeekie,” said Alan, recovering himself, “listen to me; this is all infernal nonsense; we have gone through a great deal and the nerves of both of us are overstrained.  We think we saw what we did not see, and if you dare to say a single word of it to your mistress, I’ll break your neck.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Major, think so.  All ’fernal nonsense, nerves strained, didn’t see what we see, and say nothing of what did see to Mrs. Major, if either do say anything, t’other one break his neck.  That all right, quite understand.  Anything else, Major?”

“Yes, Jeekie.  We have had some wonderful adventures, but they are past and done with and the less we talk or even think about them the better, for there is a lot that would be rather difficult to explain, and that if explained would scarcely be believed.”