"Meet him! No. He came to me and sent me back," said Bart, grimly. "Where is he, then?" "At his quarters, of course." Humphrey Armstrong turned upon his heel frowning, as he felt that a great deal of what he had been saying must have been addressed to vacancy. He did not turn his head as he paced the corridor, but he was aware that he was followed by Bart, whose lantern shed its faint yellow gleam upon the great curtain till he had passed through, and all was in darkness as he crossed the great chamber and threw himself upon the couch. But the place was feebly illuminated directly after, as Bart drew the drapery aside and peered in, holding the lantern well above his head to satisfy himself that his prisoner was there. Then he drew back, the great curtain fell into its place, and Humphrey's jailer went slowly to his niche, where he set down his light, seated himself, and with arms folded and chin resting upon his breast, moodily brooded over the position. "A curse!" he muttered more than once--"a curse! If he were dead there would be peace once more, for she would forget him." "Suppose," he thought, after a while--"suppose he was to be gone next time she came. Well, he might have escaped, and after a time she'd be at rest. It would be so easy, and it would be for her. And yet he's so brave and so handsome, such a man for her! Better see her happy and kill myself. Not that I need!" he said, bitterly; "for she said she'd do that if aught happened to him." "It's hard work," he muttered, after a while, "seeing the woman you love care for some one else, and him lying there, and as good us asking you to put him out of the way." Bart's head sank lower as he crouched there, struggling with the great temptation of his life, till at last he slowly rose, and, shading the lantern within his breast, stepped cautiously toward the curtain which draped the door. Stretching out his hand, he was in the act of drawing it softly aside when there was a firm clutch at his shoulder, and a low voice whispered in his ear-- "What are you going to do?" Bart drew back, let fall the certain, and faced his leader. "Nothing!" he said, abruptly. "You villain!" whispered the buccaneer. "I read murder in your eye!" "I'm tired of it," growled Bart. "I give it up. I know what I am. I hopes for nothing; but when I see you go mad for one who hates you, and who will bring ruin on us all, as well as make you unhappy, it makes me mad too. He's an enemy, and I could kill anybody as gives you pain!" "As I could, and would, slay you if you hurt a hair of the head of the man I love!" "The man you love!" muttered Bart, bitterly. "Time back it was the other Captain Armstrong. Now it's him. Anybody but a poor fellow like me!" "You have told me again and again you were content to be my friend. Go back to the quarters, and I'll watch myself. I have no one here I can trust!"