It rattled on its hinges and a long crack appeared in the lower panel.

"He's sho' coming in," the African said slowly and reflectively. "He's sho'
coming in and when he don't get no pie, he's gwine tell Mistah Falk, and
you and me's gwine have trouble." Putting his scowling face close to my
ear, the cook whispered, "Ah's gwine scare him good."

Amazed by the dramatic turn that events were taking, I drew back into a
corner.

From the rack above his head the cook took down the carving-knife. Dropping
on hands and knees and creeping across the floor, he held the weapon
between his even white teeth, sat up on his haunches, and noiselessly
drew the bolt that locked the door. Then with a deft motion of an
extraordinarily long arm he put out the lantern behind him and threw the
galley into darkness.



CHAPTER V

KIPPING


I thought that Kipping must have abandoned his quest. In the darkness of
the galley the silence seemed hours long. The coals in the stove glowed
redly, and the almost imperceptible light of the starry sky came in here
and there around the door. Otherwise not a thing was visible in the
absolute blackness that shrouded my strange host, who seemed for the moment
to have reverted to the savage craft of his Slave Coast ancestors. Surely