thought it was by design, and I was desperate for a sight of her.

Mrs. Johns came on deck once or twice while I was there, but she
chose to ignore me. The stewardess, however, was not so partisan,
and, the day before we met the Buenos Aires, she spent a little time
on deck, leaning against the rail and watching me with alert black
eyes.

"What are you going to do when you get to land, Mr. Captain Leslie?"
she asked. "Are you going to put us all in prison?"

"That's as may be," I evaded. She was a pretty little woman, plump
and dark, and she slid her hand along the rail until it touched mine.
Whereon, I did the thing she was expecting, and put my fingers over
hers. She flushed a little, and dimpled.

"You are human, aren't you?" she asked archly. "I am not afraid
of you."

"No one is, I am sure."

"Silly! Why, they are all afraid of you, down there." She jerked
her head toward the after house. "They want to offer you something,
but none of them will do it."

"Offer me something?"

She came a little closer, so that her round shoulder touched mine.

"Why not? You need money, I take it. And that's the one thing they