"Never you mind about him, he won't trouble you. We've done with him for ever."

"Don't you be too sure of that; if he wants you so badly that he had to pull off after you, he's not going to let you slip so easily; and what's more, if he knows the name of your boat, he'll nail you by cable in Tahiti as soon as winkin'. There are more ways of killing a cat than choking him with b.u.t.ter, Mr. Veneda."

"I don't doubt it, but as he doesn't know the name of the boat, by your own argument I'm quite safe," Veneda said, throwing the stump of his cigar overboard into the curdling wake.

"Well, all I can say is, if he don't know it, he don't deserve to."

"But how the deuce could he know it?"

"Why, simply because, as I say, he followed you off," said the skipper, with the superiority of a man who makes a statement knowing his facts to be all right, "and because, just as we'd got way on her, he came alongside and tried to hook on. If she hadn't been going too fast for him, he'd 'a been aboard; as it was he had to slip astern."

"And you think he read her name?" Veneda muttered hoa.r.s.ely.

"O' course he did. Why, he couldn't have helped it if he had eyes in his head and knew his letters."

This unexpected news so staggered Veneda that for a moment it deprived him of speech. He began to experience an awful dread, not of the discovery of the means whereby he had obtained his fortune, but of the disclosure of the precious secret which guarded it. Instinctively he felt for the locket he wore round his neck, and in which reposed the slip of paper Juanita was so anxious to obtain.

Crawling along the sloping deck to the companion, he proceeded to his berth below. A swinging lamp lit the saloon, and in a gilt mirror upon the bulkhead he caught sight of his own face. He was startled beyond measure at its pallor.

"This won't do," he told himself as he undressed; "it's full early to be frightened; besides, who knows? He was so excited that it's just within the bounds of possibility he may not have read her name."

But do what he would he could not divest his mind of the thought that the Albino was aware of his plans. He had had good reason in the past to know that the dwarf really ruled the Society of which they were both members, and remembering his vindictive nature, he felt certain that neither pains nor money would be spared to ensure revenge for this last and most glaring piece of treachery. Consideration of these matters kept him tumbling and tossing in his bunk till long after midnight, to the accompaniment of groaning timbers, skurrying rats, and the crash of seas against the slender hull. When sleep did overtake him, his dreams were troubled; he imagined himself being hunted round the world by the Albino, who jumped after him across oceans, and from continent to continent, and at last ran him to earth in the big hall of his old familiar English school.

He was in the act of giving him the locket to square matters when he awoke to find a flood of bright sunshine streaming in through the dingy little disc that served him as a porthole. His joy at finding it was only a dream was intense, and while under the influence of that relief he dressed and went on deck, to find the captain once more on watch and the crew busily engaged in washing down.

The fresh breeze of the night before still continued, and if the foam at either bow, or the swirling water under the counter could be taken as evidence, the _Island Queen_ was making the most of it. The sky was as blue and the sea as green as only Pacific skies and seas can be, and against it the taper masts, the hard-strained rigging, and the swelling sails, white as snow in the brilliant sunshine, made up a picture that found a responsive note in the relief which filled Veneda's heart. A cheerful smoke issued from the galley, at the door of which the shock-headed boy, "Old Nick," was engaged cleaning knives. Perhaps as the effect of the lovely morning, the captain showed himself a little more affable than he had been on the previous night. He nodded familiarly to his pa.s.senger, and prefaced his conversation by inquiring, with a peculiar sort of courtesy, after his wife's health. Further conversation on that subject, however, was put a stop to by the appearance of the lady herself, once more clad in the garments of her s.e.x.

As she emerged from the companion, Veneda hastened forward to receive her, and when she had recognized the captain's presence they fell to promenading the deck together. Fortunately she was an excellent sailor, and the bright fresh morning and the brisk breeze brought a colour into her cheeks that made her, so Veneda could not help owning to himself, more than usually lovely. For half a moment he wondered why he should not trust her, and the temptation came upon him to forget his original intentions and to embody this splendid creature in his plans for the future. She was fitted to adorn any station in life, he told himself.

But then, certain episodes in her past history obtruded themselves upon his recollection, and he was compelled to admit that such a thing must not be dreamt of for an instant.

But if a life's partnership were impossible, it was at least very pleasant to skim over summer seas in the company of one so evidently intended by nature to be all that was charming and agreeable to man. And indeed Juanita exerted herself prodigiously to please, so much so, that before they had been a week upon the voyage Veneda had once more entertained serious thoughts of casting his previous apprehensions to the winds and risking everything. Her behaviour was certainly calculated to disarm suspicion. Never, by even as much as a hint, did she lead him to suppose that she was in any way desirous of learning his secret. Her trust in him was the only thing self-evident, and even this she was too clever to exaggerate. Only once did she refer, and that indirectly, to the treasure which was the sole inducement of their flight, and I have often thought that that conversation was as strange as anything connected with that extraordinary voyage.

It originated in this way. They were leaning over the taffrail, watching for the rising of the moon. The schooner, racing along over the curling seas under reefed canvas, seemed like a thing of life. Her canvas towered aloft into the ghostly darkness, and the wind in the rigging and the drum of the seas against the hull were the only things that could be heard. The mate, Crawshaw, patrolled the opposite side of the deck with the regularity of a pendulum.

Juanita had been peculiarly quiet all the evening, out of which state Veneda had in vain tried to rally her.

"Marcos," she said suddenly in Spanish, nestling closer to his side, "does it ever occur to you to wish you had left me behind in Valparaiso?"

"Why, what on earth makes you ask such a question?" he replied. "Do you think I should grow tired of you so soon?"

"So soon!" she answered, looking up into his face. "You have had me with you a fortnight now, and there is not much variety on board a boat the size of the _Island Queen_. I should not be at all surprised if you said you were tired of my company."

"Well, I am not. So that settles it, doesn't it?"

"Marcos, why did you not let us go to England in a mail-boat? It would surely have been quicker and safer?"

"Because in that case Macklin could not help but have discovered our departure, and we should have been followed, if not murdered--that's why."

"And now?"

"Now no one knows our whereabouts; we can choose our own route when we leave Tahiti."

"And which way will it be, Marcos?"

"I have not decided yet."

She was silent for a minute or two. Then she said slowly, still keeping her eyes fixed on him--

"I think I understand. You have decided, but you dare not trust me."

His first and most natural impulse was to deny the accusation. But on second thoughts he adopted another course.

"You are quite right," he said with a laugh, "I certainly do not trust you. And what is perhaps more to the point, I don't intend to. All things considered, I don't think you have the right to blame me."

With a little laugh, and without a sign of vexation in her tone, she answered, "Perhaps you're right. At any rate, you're wiser than I am in such matters."

Then taking his arm, they returned to their const.i.tutional up and down the deck, just as if nothing out of the common had occurred.

And so day by day sped by, glorious weather, smooth seas, blue skies, and fair winds accompanying them. It was more like a pleasure trip than a flight for life. Captain Boulger improved upon acquaintance, and even the mate, Crawshaw, rubbed off some of his angles as they grew to know him better.

Three weeks almost to a day after dropping Pitcairn behind them, they were on the fringe of the Society Islands; and at Papeete the captain proposed to touch, to obtain supplies. His pa.s.sengers, he knew, though grudging the delay, would not be sorry for an opportunity to stretch their legs; for the size of the schooner did not, necessarily, permit much pedestrian exercise.

One morning, coming on deck, Crawshaw called Veneda to his side, and pointed to a low smudge showing faintly on the horizon.

"What is it?" the other asked.

"Tahiti," was the reply, and with the word, like the opening of a mill-sluice, Veneda's old anxieties rushed back upon him. In an hour or two he would know whether or not the Albino was aware of his destination.

By breakfast-time they were closing up on it. The high mountain peaks had risen well above the horizon, and from being a simple blotch upon the clear-cut sea-line, the land had developed a decided personality of its own. An hour later they were close enough to it to be able to plainly distinguish objects on sh.o.r.e, and were prepared to catch the first view of Papeete.

By midday they were abreast of the entrance to Papeete harbour, looking across the reef with its thundering surf to where the quaint little town lay nestling among the trees. As soon as they were sighted the pilot put off, and upon his gaining the deck the work of entering the harbour was proceeded with. Once they were inside and at a standstill, Veneda and Juanita departed ash.o.r.e in search of luncheon. It was a new sensation for them to wander about together as strangers in a strange place, and Veneda watched to see what effect it would have upon his companion. She had lost something of her vivacity, and was inclined to be more wrapt up in her own thoughts than was usual with her.

Those who know Tahiti will know Charons (or the hostelry disguised under that name), and those who know Charons will remember Alphonse, the most obsequious of _garcons_, with his acc.u.mulated knowledge of traders and their schooners, missionaries, pilots, copra merchants, and all manner of strange beings and things appertaining to those delightful seas.

Therefore, when I say that Veneda and Juanita were fortunate enough to secure the corner table in the big room, and the services of that indefatigable person, I am, as you will agree, ensuring them the pleasantest of times. With palates improved by the simple fare of the _Island Queen_, they investigated every course, enjoyed some excellent wine, trifled with dessert, and when they had drunk their coffee, proceeded to stretch their legs along the beautiful Broom Road.

It was a most luxurious day; a soft breeze played in fitful gusts among the tropic foliage, bearing upon its breast a thousand gentle, and to our travellers unaccustomed, odours. There was only one blot upon it; since his last gla.s.s of champagne, Veneda felt strangely sleepy, so much so, that when they had walked but a little way he expressed a wish to be allowed to sit down and admire the view. Nothing loth, Juanita consented, so down they sat awhile, talking, and gazing upon the panorama of sea and islands stretched before them. Her voice sounded wonderfully soothing as he listened, and bit by bit he found this mysterious desire for sleep overcoming him. His head gradually sought a pillow by her side, his eyes closed, and in less than five minutes he was unconscious.

Now Juanita, who had by no means been unmindful of his state (nor am I prepared to authoritatively state that she had not, in some measure, been the occasion of it), was too precipitate for her own safety. Such was her impatience that, without waiting to make certain that he was sound asleep, she must needs commence her search for the mysterious locket round his neck, which contained, she was convinced, the paper she was so desperately anxious to obtain. Perhaps in her hurry her touch was too rough, or Veneda was not so much overpowered with slumber as she imagined; at any rate, just as she had the precious locket in her hand, and was about to broach its contents, his eyes opened, and his hands closed on hers. Awkward as the situation was, her presence of mind never deserted her, and she prepared to laugh it off with the excuse she had prepared beforehand.

"Ah! my Marcos," she said jestingly, "it is well that you woke; for I am going to be furiously jealous. And pray what fair lady's portrait do you wear round your neck?"

For the moment Veneda was too amazed at her coolness to reply; then he replaced the locket, and a.s.suming a pensive air, said--

"You may be as jealous of her as you please. That is my poor mother's miniature; the only remembrance I have of her. I will show it to you this evening, if you would care to see it. Now we must be getting back to the schooner."

His explanation was so simple and sincere that she was baffled completely. If he were telling the truth her surmises must be all wrong; if not, she had put him on his guard for the future.

But though he allowed no sign to escape him to show that he understood her attempt, he was none the less concerned about it.