looked through it long and carefully. Then the mizentop was appealed to,
and declared that he could see nothing; and at last the sun went down
with a jerk, as though it had slipped through a slit in the sea,
and the black spot, swallowed up in the gathering haze, was seen no more.

As the sun sank, the relief guard came up the after hatchway,
and the relieved guard prepared to superintend the descent of the convicts.
At this moment Sylvia missed her ball, which, taking advantage
of a sudden lurch of the vessel, hopped over the barricade,
and rolled to the feet of Rufus Dawes, who was still leaning,
apparently lost in thought, against the side.

The bright spot of colour rolling across the white deck caught his eye;
stooping mechanically, he picked up the ball, and stepped forward
to return it. The door of the barricade was open and the sentry--a young
soldier, occupied in staring at the relief guard--did not notice the prisoner
pass through it. In another instant he was on the sacred quarter-deck.

Heated with the game, her cheeks aglow, her eyes sparkling,
her golden hair afloat, Sylvia had turned to leap after her plaything,
but even as she turned, from under the shadow of the cuddy
glided a rounded white arm; and a shapely hand caught the child
by the sash and drew her back. The next moment the young man in grey
had placed the toy in her hand.

Maurice Frere, descending the poop ladder, had not witnessed
this little incident; on reaching the deck, he saw only the unexplained
presence of the convict uniform.

"Thank you," said a voice, as Rufus Dawes stooped before the pouting Sylvia.