the fool with that chit of a girl." Something of that sort. Don't you
see it--eh . . . "

Marlow looked at me with his dark penetrating glance. I was struck by
the absolute verisimilitude of this suggestion. But we were always
tilting at each other. I saw an opening and pushed my uncandid thrust.

"You have a ghastly imagination," I said with a cheerfully sceptical
smile.

"Well, and if I have," he returned unabashed. "But let me remind you
that this situation came to me unasked. I am like a puzzle-headed chief-
mate we had once in the dear old _Samarcand_ when I was a youngster. The
fellow went gravely about trying to "account to himself"--his favourite
expression--for a lot of things no one would care to bother one's head
about. He was an old idiot but he was also an accomplished practical
seaman. I was quite a boy and he impressed me. I must have caught the
disposition from him."

"Well--go on with your accounting then," I said, assuming an air of
resignation.

"That's just it." Marlow fell into his stride at once. "That's just it.
Mere disappointed cupidity cannot account for the proceedings of the next
morning; proceedings which I shall not describe to you--but which I shall
tell you of presently, not as a matter of conjecture but of actual fact.
Meantime returning to that evening altercation in deadened tones within
the private apartment of Miss de Barral's governess, what if I were to
tell you that disappointment had most likely made them touchy with each
other, but that perhaps the secret of his careless, railing behaviour,