"Upon no conditions," he repeated.

The breeze had dropped, and twilight had followed swiftly upon the
misty sunset. There was something a little ghostly about the light in
which they sat. "I am stifled," she declared abruptly. "Come
and walk."

They paced up and down the deck once or twice in silence. Then he
paused as they drew near their chairs.

"Miss Beverley," he said, "in case this should be the last time that
we talk confidentially--so that we may put a seal, in fact, upon the
subject of which we have spoken to-night--I would like to tell you
that you have made me feel, during this last half-hour, an emotion
which I have not felt for many years. And I want to tell you this. I
am a lawbreaker. When I told you that there was a warrant out against
me at the present moment, I told you the truth. The charge against me
is a true one, and the penalty is one I shall never pay. I must go on
to the end, and I shall do so because I have a driving impulse behind,
a hate which only action can soothe. But all my sins have been against
men and the doings of men. You will understand me, will you not, when
I say that I can neither take your money, nor accept your friendship
after this voyage is over? You, on your side, can remember that you
have paid a debt."

She sank a little wearily into her chair and looked out through the
gathering mists. It seemed part of her fancy that they gathered him
in, for she heard no sound of retreating footsteps. Yet when she spoke
his name, a few moments later, she found that she was alone.