He had his way, for there was something about him that compelled just
then. He entered the cabin as a king might enter the apartment of a
slave, and he shut the door with decision upon those without.

Then for a second--just for a second--he hesitated. "Toby!" he said.

A meagre form sprang upright in the bunk at the sound of his voice. Two
bare, skinny arms reached out to him. Then with a single stride Saltash
was beside the bunk and was holding tightly to him a small, whimpering
creature that hid its face very deeply against his breast and clutched at
him piteously whenever he sought to raise it.

Saltash bent his dark head over the fair one and spoke very gently, yet
with authority. "It's all right, child. I know. I've known all along!
Don't fret yourself! There's no need. I've got you under my protection.
You're safe."

"You--know!" whispered the muffled voice--Toby's voice, but strangely
devoid of Toby's confidence. "What must you--think?"

"I!" Saltash laughed a little. "I never think. I give
everyone--always--the benefit of the doubt; which is considerably more
than anyone ever gives me."

"And--you saved my life!" gasped Toby "Why did you? Why did you?"

"I wanted it," said Saltash promptly. "Now listen a moment! We've done
with this show. It's played out. We'll ring up on another. You've got to
change your name again. I'm telling everyone you're Larpent's daughter."