"There 's nothing I like to do better than fish, and I sit there and fish and think all the time. And little things come to me of the life in New York, and I worry over them. I never was a grafter. I never took a penny from any one when I was on the vice squad, in the way of protection, but there 's little things that worry me. As, for instance, when I go into a saloon for a drink, they never take my money. When an arrest is made, sometimes I find a bailsman for the prisoner, and they give me something as a favor. Or I sell tickets for this benefit or another, and nobody wants them, but nobody dares refuse. And I sit there in a few acres of coral in the Pacific Ocean and the sun rises in the east way over New York, and the moon sets in the west down China way. And the winds blow south from Japan or north from the edge of the world. And I think: It's very small. It's not worth a man's while. "And while I 'm thinking Janssen is thinking, too. But what she 's thinking about, I can't figure. She 's very silent. And at times her mouth is n't hard at all, nor her eyes, either. And when she speaks her eyes are on the ground and she 's very serious. "'What are you thinking about, Janssen?' I ask. "'McCarthy,' she says, 'did you ever, after a hard day's work, disappointed, clogged with dirt, come in and turn on a cold shower and suddenly feel better and cleaner--and be happy again?' "'That's the only thing to do, on a day like that.' "'Well, I feel,' she said, 'as if this island were that bath after the awful day of my life,' she said. "At times I think, myself, that it must be getting on her nerves, this place. She 'll want the lights, the gaiety, the people, if only for a little space, before she faces her trial. Even the chair must be better for her than this waiting, I think. "'Are n't you getting lonely, Janssen?' I ask. 'Does n't this get on your nerves--having nobody to talk to?' We never speak any more about the murder or the trial. "'Why, no, McCarthy!' "'I should have thought,' I say, 'that after the gaiety you knew you 'd find this a terrible trial.' "'McCarthy,' she said suddenly, 'were you ever at Saranac?' "'I 've passed through it.' "'Did you ever see the poor people there, quiet, waiting, glad to be alive, just being healed? Well, I 'm like those.' "I don't notice for a while the change that is coming over Janssen. I see things on the outside of people. I don't see them on the inside. I 'm a detective. I just think maybe she 's got the blues, Maybe she's worried. But one afternoon she comes to me and springs a new one. "'McCarthy,' she says, 'would you mind every afternoon keeping away for an hour or so from the cove?' "'What's the idea?' I says. "'Well, I used to be a good swimmer,' she says, 'and I 'm going to practise, and I have n't got any bathing-suit,' she says, 'not even tights. So you 'd better keep away.'