to have spoken to him, could only remember that one warm evening, in
reply to a casual remark about the weather, the missing man, burying his
ears further in the turned-up collar of his pea-jacket, had stated, "'It
was cold enough to freeze the ears off a brass monkey,'--a remark, no
doubt, sir, intended to convey a reason for his hiding his own." Only
Senor Perkins retained his serene optimism unimpaired.

"Take my word for it, we shall yet hear good news of our missing friend.
Let us at least believe it until we know otherwise. Ah! my dear Mrs.
Markham, why should the Unknown always fill us with apprehension? Its
surprises are equally often agreeable."

"But we have all been so happy before this; and this seems such an
unnecessary and cruel awakening," said Miss Keene, lifting her sad eyes
to the speaker, "that I can't help thinking it's the beginning of the
end. Good heavens! what's that?"

She had started at the dark figure of one of the foreign-looking
sailors, who seemed to have suddenly risen out of the deck beside them.

"The Senor Perkins," he said, with an apologetic gesture of his hand to
his hatless head.

"You want ME, my good man?" asked Senor Perkins paternally.

"Si, Senor; the mate wishes to see the Patrono," he said in Spanish.

"I will come presently."

The sailor hesitated. Senor Perkins took a step nearer to him