else has. Anyhow I'll chance it, and if I'm a damned interfering
meddler it's up to you to say so and I'll apologise--handsomely.
Are you in a hole?"

Craven got up, walked away to the side of the yacht and leaning on
the rail stared down into the water. A solitary sampan was passing
the broad streak of moonlight and he watched it intently until it
passed and merged into the shadows beyond.

"I've been the usual fool," he said at last quietly.

"Oh, hell!" came softly from behind him. "Chuck it, Barry. Clear
out right now--with us. I'll put off sailing until tomorrow."

"I--can't."

Atherton rose and joined him, and for a moment his hand rested on
the younger man's shoulder.

"I'm sorry--dashed sorry," he murmured. "Gee!" he added with a
half shy, half humorous glance, wiping his forehead frankly, "I'd
rather face a grizzly than do that again. Leslie keeps telling me
that my habit of butting in will land me in the family vault
before my time."

Craven smiled wryly.

"It's all right. I'm grateful--really. But I must hoe my own row."

The American swung irresolutely on his heels.