LITMIR.BIZ

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sure he was a gentleman; he spoke like one, he expressed himself as such when he left, there was a natural pride about him. He walked in the direction of Torquay; I wonder if you met him on the road."

      Picton Woodridge greatly astonished her by asking her the following questions:

      "Have you told your brother about this?"

      "No."

      "Did any one see him?"

      "I don't think so. I am almost sure they did not."

      "Will you do me a favor?"

      "Willingly."

      "Then do not mention this to a soul," said Picton earnestly.

      CHAPTER IV

      THE WOMAN AT THE TABLE

      SHE promised readily, not asking questions, for which he was grateful. She knew there was something she could not penetrate, some mystery; her curiosity was aroused but she restrained it.

      "Thank you," he said. "I have good reasons for asking you to remain silent; some day I will tell you them, whether my conjectures prove right or wrong."

      "I shall not ask your confidence," she said.

      "I will give it to you. I would give it to you now if I thought it would be of any use."

      "I am sure you would."

      "Rita – "

      "Hallo, where are you, Picton?" shouted Dick.

      "Here!" he called. "On the seat near the hedge."

      "Oh, down there. Is Rita with you?"

      "Yes."

      "Sorry I shouted; hope I didn't disturb you," sang out Dick.

      "Not in the least," said Picton; "we were just coming up."

      "I wonder what he was going to tell me when he said 'Rita,'" she thought as they walked up the hilly garden path.

      Picton said he would rather return to the yacht for the night; he loved being on the water, it always had a soothing effect and he was not a good sleeper.

      "I must be in tip-top condition for to-morrow – so much depends upon it," he said, smiling.

      Rita thought a good deal about her conversation with him when he left, tried to puzzle out the mystery, but failed.

      "I'll wait until he tells me," she said. "I wish Dick hadn't shouted when he said 'Rita'; it interrupted a pleasant sentence. I wonder how it would have finished?" and she smiled quietly to herself.

      Dick drove them to Torquay, then returned home. Brack rowed them out to the Sea-mew. He was loquacious as usual.

      "Nice night, gents," he said.

      "Beautiful, Brack. Isn't it rather dark though?" said Ben.

      Picton seemed moody.

      "Yes, there's no moon to speak of; it's darker than I've known it at this time o' year."

      The old fellow chatted until they came alongside.

      Picton paid him and said good-night. Brack thanked him and said: "Goin' to ride any winners to-morrow, sir?"

      This roused him and he told Brack the names of the horses and the races they were going for.

      "You back The Rascal for the double if you can find any one to lay it to you," said Picton.

      "We've a bookie among us," said Brack. "He's a young 'un and as good a sailor as the best of us, but he's artful, very artful, and he's had many a bob out'er me, and the rest. I'd like to take him down, and I will. The Rascal for the double, you said?"

      "Yes, and here's half a sovereign to put on him," said Picton.

      Brack gave an audible chuckle as he said: "Lor' love us, that'll just about bust him if it comes off."

      They laughed as he rowed away, whistling softly to himself.

      "I'll turn in early," said Picton.

      "The best thing you can do," said the Captain. "You seem a bit out of sorts to-day."

      "I am; I can't get the sound of the gun out of my ears."

      Ben looked at him sympathetically.

      "I knew what you meant, felt what you felt, when you spoke about it," he said.

      "Strange some one should have escaped from Dartmoor a day or two before," said Picton.

      "Escapes are often occurring," said Ben.

      "What did you think about that man on the road, who pushed through the hedge to avoid us?" asked Picton.

      "Didn't give it more than a passing thought," said Ben.

      "What was the passing thought?"

      "I said to myself, 'I wonder if that's the man who escaped?'"

      "Good-night," said Picton; "I'll turn in."

      "Good-night," said Ben, as he sat on a deck chair.

      "He's in a curious mood to-night," he thought. "I'm sorry for him. We ought not to have come here, it brings up painful recollections, the vicinity of Dartmoor; and yet it has its compensations – there's Miss Langford, lovely girl, and as nice as she looks. I hope he'll win to-morrow, it will cheer him up."

      Ben's mind went back to the time when Picton and Hector were lads together, and the Admiral was alive. His heart was sore for Hector, although he was half inclined to believe him guilty, but tried to convince himself to the contrary by expressing his firm belief in his innocence, in order to be of the same mind as Picton.

      One thing Captain Ben had long determined upon: if ever he got a chance, he would help Hector, no matter at what risk or cost. He was a man who had run into many dangers, not useless dangers, necessary perils, with his eyes open, knowing the consequences of failure, therefore he was a brave man. Blindfolded, impetuous, blundering rushes against great odds excite the admiration of the crowd, but it is the Captain Bens who are to be relied upon in times of emergency.

      The air became cooler. Ben rose from his chair and went to his cabin; looking into Picton's as he passed, he was glad to see him asleep.

      The Sea-mew swung round with the tide, quietly, without a sound; it was very still and calm; she looked like a dull white bird on the water. So thought a man who crept stealthily along the wall toward the inner harbor.

      "I wish I were on her and out at sea," he muttered. He could just discern her outline, the white hull and the lights.

      He heard footsteps, a measured beat, a policeman, he knew by the tread. He put his hand on the wall to steady himself, shivered, then groaned. There was no getting out of it, he must face the man, and it was late. He staggered forward with a drunken reel, but not too unsteady on his legs. He lurched, just avoiding the constable, who merely said: "Now, my man, get off home, and mind you keep quiet."

      "All right, sir, I'm a'goin'," was the reply.

      The constable moved on, blissfully ignorant that he had probably missed a chance of promotion. The man walked past the pier, past the Torbay Hotel, where there were lights in one of the rooms on the ground floor, evidently a late supper party, at least so thought the man outside. Do what he would, he could not resist the temptation to cross the road and see what was going on. There was a chink in the blind. At first he saw little, his eyes were curiously dim and heavy from lack of sleep, gradually the mist in them lifted. He saw four people seated at a table, brilliantly lighted, a dainty supper spread. It was long since he had seen such things, but he had been used to them. Naturally, being hungry, he looked at the well-laden table; then his eyes went to the people sitting there, two men and two women. He saw the men first, then one woman, then the other woman, and his eyes started, his hands clenched, his face went livid, his teeth met with a snap; for a moment he stood thus, regarding the woman with a fixed stare of horror. She was a beautiful woman, voluptuous, with a luring face, and eyes which knew every language in every tongue of unspoken love. She was smiling into the eyes of the man at her side as she toyed with a dainty morsel on a silver dessert fork. She was dressed with excellent taste, expensively, not lavishly. She was a woman who knew overdressing

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