weakness and dependence; but from that moment he was as submissive as if
he had been indeed the small captive animal to which his new owner had
likened him. At Saltash's behest and with his help, he presently crept
back to his own cabin to divest himself of his hotel-livery and don the
very roomy suit of pajamas that Murray the steward had served out to him.

Then, barefooted, stumbling, and shivering, he returned to where Saltash
leaned smoking in the narrow dressing-room, awaiting him.

Saltash's dark face wore a certain look of grimness. He bent without
words and lifted the shrinking figure in his arms.

Ten seconds later Toby sank down in a berth as luxurious as any ever
carried by private yacht.

He was still shivering though a grateful warmth came about him as Saltash
tucked him in. He tried to murmur thanks, but ended with a quivering chin
and silence.

"Go to sleep, you little ass!" commanded Saltash.

And so at last Toby slept, the deep, unstirring sleep of exhaustion,
utterly unconscious of his surroundings, unaware of the man who came in
and out watching that unchanging repose, sublimely oblivious of all
observation, sunk in a slumber so remote that it might have been the last
long rest of all.

Saltash spent the night on the velvet couch under the closed porthole,
dozing occasionally and always awakening with a jerk as the roll of the
vessel threatened to pitch him on to the floor of the cabin. It was not a