Hemming assured him that he would be delighted to listen, and, hailing a belated cab, they drove to Washington Square. O'Rourke and Smith were both asleep. Hemming closed their doors, and lit a couple of candles to help the firelight make shadows up the walls. Then Stanley told something of his story. In his youth he had inherited a small fortune. At first he had spent it foolishly, but after years of knocking about, had learned how to save it, and even add to it. The sea had been his ambition and delight ever since his first days of freedom. Early in his career he had qualified as a navigator. He told of trading-schooners in Newfoundland and Labrador, in which he was interested; of a copper-mine somewhere that he had discovered himself, and sold to an English syndicate; of a venture in the sponge-fishery off the Florida coast, and of his apprenticeship to pearl-diving. He told of a blunt-nosed old barque in which he owned a one-third interest and on which he had sailed as master for half a dozen voyages, doing a very profitable smuggling business on the side. He even confessed to an irregular career as a journalist in Australia. "I have always found my profits," he said, "and managed to live well enough. It is an easy world, if you have any brains at all, but, for all that, it is horrible. The longer a man lives--the oftener he saves himself from defeat--the gayer he makes his fun--then, when he lies awake at night, the more he has to sweat and pray about." Hemming nodded. "They pile up," he remarked; then, fearing that gloomy reflections might get the better of his guest's desire to talk, he asked him why he had given up his berth aboard the barque. "Had important business to look after ashore," replied Stanley. In bending over the table to light a cigarette at a candle, he looked keenly at his host. "And there was another reason--a damn sight better one," he said, quietly. He sank back in his chair and blew a thin thread of smoke. "We were in Bahia with fish," he continued, "and I got foul of one of the hands--for the last time. The memory of his big face makes me feel ill to this day." "What!" exclaimed Hemming. "Do you mean to tell me you let one of the crew lay you away?" "Not quite," laughed Stanley, harshly. He touched the scar on his chin. "That's what he gave me--with a knuckle-duster," he explained, "and what I gave him he took ashore to the hospital. His messmates were not particularly fond of him, but, for all that, I considered it wise to live quietly ashore for awhile." "You must have handled him rather roughly," remarked the Englishman. "I killed him," said Stanley. "I beat the life out of him with my bare fists." "You beast," said Hemming, his face blanched with horror and disgust.