ide as he squared himself in the doorway. Miss Ducane had already stepped clear. In the flurry of that moment, Miss Gregory had but one clear impression--the long black leg of Miss Ducane as she snatched her skirt up and dragged at her crimson garter. Then she was seemly again, and her slim hand reached forward with a revolver, miraculously materialized, and thrust it into the hand of the deck passenger. At once the noise of it began to make its effect--two shots, a rush, and two more. It was all too like a trick to be imposing, and far too swift in its happening. Miss Gregory had hardly realized it, when the deck passenger was back again. It had only needed proof that the white man still possessed resources of mastery to drive the natives forward.
"I'll have to leave you," he was saying. "They'll need watching." And he was gone again.
There was a settee in the companion, and Miss Gregory sat down upon it. She was placid enough outwardly, but inwardly the spate of events had left her a little be
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