"I'll see him now," he said; and he was turning to go to the cabin stairs when the low musical voice of his wife fell upon his ear, and though the darkness was so great that he could not see her he was aware that she was close at hand in conversation with some one whose voice seemed familiar. He could not make out a word, but it was evident that whoever was speaking to Hester was addressing her in a low, passionate tone, while her replies were almost inaudible. Who was it? Not the mulatto: his peculiar, harsh, grating voice was too familiar. This was the voice of some one who made his nerves thrill with rage and indescribable emotion; and yet in his confusion and excitement he could not make out who it could be. "I cannot play the spy like this," said Dutch to himself, and, raging as he was with curiosity and mortification, he walked away; but his agony was unbearable, and, turning back, he approached the spot once more, to hear a half-stifled cry for help; then there was the noise of a slight struggle, and he darted forward to strike himself against the foremast and stagger back half-stunned, and lean against the side to collect his scattered thoughts. For his forehead had come violently into collision with the mast, and for a few minutes memory forsook her seat, and a strange sense of sickness accompanied the oblivion. This soon passed off, though, and now, thoroughly roused, Dutch retraced his steps, going with outstretched hands to the spot whence the voices had seemed to proceed, to find all perfectly still. "But she was here," he muttered moodily; and recalling his determination to insist upon a full explanation, Dutch walked straight to the cabin occupied by Bessy Studwick and his wife, and stood listening for a few moments before he knocked. He could hear voices behind him, where it was evident that the captain and his friends were gathered, and upon listening more attentively he learned what he wished to know, but was never in doubt about--namely, the presence of Hester in the little cabin. She was there, though, for he heard some one talking in a low tone, and that there was a low sob. He waited no longer but knocked. There was no reply. He knocked again, and there was a rustling sound within which made his heart beat heavily, the blood rushed to his eyes, and a strange swimming affected his brain, as the horrible suspicion crossed his mind that it was not Bessy Studwick's voice he had heard, but the same that he had listened to on deck. Fighting against the dizzy sensation, and striving to become calm, he raised his hands and stood in the attitude of one about to hurl himself against the door and burst it from its fastenings; but something seemed to restrain him, and he knocked again, and this time plainly enough, he heard Hester's voice in an excited whisper say,-- "He is there! pray, pray, don't open the door."