That night when they retired to rest, and Bunny and his wife had read a chapter of the big leather-covered Bible, which lay on a small table in their bedroom, Mrs. Bunny turned to her husband. "Tom," she said, "what if all this should end badly? I am frightened now." "Why should it end badly?" and Bunny wiped his spectacles carefully and folded them into their case. "I am afraid now--I don't know why. Why don't you tell me all about Halsa? You never have." "There's not much to tell. You knew Stephen Lamport, my cousin, when he married Halsa six years ago, and we went on board the Petrel and met them. You know what a scoundrel Stephen was. He led her an awful life for six years, and then deserted her before that last voyage of his to the Mauritius, when the Mahi went down with all on board. Lamport was a big blackguard, but he is dead now." "What if Stephen is not dead?" "Not dead--that's nonsense. But it's half-past ten, and I'm going to bed." Nevertheless Maggie Bunny lay awake late that night. What if Stephen Lamport should not be dead? she kept ever thinking to herself. At last she stole out of bed and prayed in the dim light for Halsa and Galbraith. When she rose she felt comforted and refreshed. She stole back slowly; Bunny was asleep, and she looked at his face. "He is a good man," she murmured; "but----" CHAPTER VI. MASTER EDWARD BUNNY. Mr. Sarkies lived with his widowed mother and an unmarried aunt, an elderly spinster, in a small house behind that occupied by the Bunnys. The family were of Armenian descent, although they were unwilling to own the fact. Wherever they went, however, they bore the cachet of their origin with them in their noses, the insignia of race bestowed upon them by Providence. When the wave of religious enthusiasm swept over Bombay it caught up among other flotsam the Sarkies family. The head of the house died shortly after this event, making a most edifying end. He left a little money, and his son was educated as well as it was possible for a man of his class, and was now an assistant accountant in the great firm of Apcoon Brothers, and in receipt of a salary of about two hundred pounds a year. Of a light, volatile character by nature, the strain of having to live under the restraints of the sect to which he belonged was sometimes too much for Sarkies, and he often broke out occasionally, as on the memorable Sunday when the elder fell foul of him, with disastrous results to himself. He was idolized by his mother and his aunt, and was a contributor to the Poet's Corner of the Bombay Bouncer. He had been much touched by the emotion displayed by Lizzie Bullin when the elder attacked him. He sat up half the night pouring his feelings into verse. He rose early, and copied the verses out neatly on a piece of bright pink Baskeville paper, with a blue J. S. in rustic letters on the top. This he folded carefully in an envelope, but did not address it.