The following night I had toothache, and could not sleep. It
was too hot to breathe under cover, so I got up, lit a pipe, and
walked on the after-deck to ease the pain. The air was very
still, save for the whish of water from the screws and the steady
beat of the engines. Above, a great yellow moon looked down
on me, and a host of pale stars.

The moonlight set me remembering the old affair of the
Dyve Burn, and my mind began to run on the Rev. John
Laputa. It pleased me to think that I was on the track of some
mystery of which I alone had the clue. I promised myself to
search out the antecedents of the minister when I got to
Durban, for I had a married cousin there, who might know
something of his doings. Then, as I passed by the companion-
way to the lower deck, I heard voices, and peeping over the
rail, I saw two men sitting in the shadow just beyond the hatch
of the hold.

I thought they might be two of the sailors seeking coolness
on the open deck, when something in the figure of one of them
made me look again. The next second I had slipped back and stolen
across the after-deck to a point just above them. For the two were
the black minister and that ugly yellow villain, Henriques.

I had no scruples about eavesdropping, but I could make
nothing of their talk. They spoke low, and in some tongue
which may have been Kaffir or Portuguese, but was in any
case unknown to me. I lay, cramped and eager, for many
minutes, and was just getting sick of it when a familiar name