room on earth for this man and me. I knew that if he caught sight of me I
was a dead man.

For the last time I had seen that grim black face--which was also the first
time--he was leaning over the rock wall of Herm, watching me steadfastly as
I pulled away from him towards Peter Port, and his face was stamped clear
on my memory for all time.

It was Torode of Herm, and in a flash I saw to the bottom of his treachery
and my own great peril. No wonder he was so successful and came back full
from every cruise, when others brought only tales of empty seas. He lived
in security on British soil and played tinder both flags. By means of a
quickly assumed disguise, he robbed British ships as a Frenchman, and
French ships as an Englishman. That explained to the full the sinking of
the _Swallow_ and the extermination of her crew. It was to him a matter of
life or death. If one escaped with knowledge of the facts, the devilment
must end. And I was that one man.

His keen black eyes had swept over us as he came over the side. I shrank
small and prayed God he had not seen me.

He walked up to the captain and said gruffly, "You are a, wise man,
monsieur. It is no good fighting against the impossible."

"I know it, or I'd have seen you damned before I'd have struck to you,"
growled the old man sourly.

"Quite so! Now, your papers, if you please, and quick!" and the captain
turned to go for them.