"Don't like being interrupted, eh? Well, that's not to be wondered at. Unfortunately"--and the scoundrel's tones took on an air of insolent importance--"I happen to be the husband of that lady who was hugging you so fondly." Poor Loyola sank back upon the sand, and hiding her face in her hands, crouched down in an attitude of absolute hopelessness. "Come on, you limb of Satan!" roared Jack, his voice shaking with passion. "She shan't be your wife for long, if I can help it. In less than five minutes she shall be your widow, if I swing for it." "Not so fast, my valiant lover, not so fast. Tom Hawksley's too leery a bird to have salt put on his tail so easy. How do I know you haven't a gang of beachcombers waiting handy to pounce out on me? You didn't come here alone, did you?" and the cunning eyes leered round the beach uneasily. "I tell you there's no one within hail," growled Jack; "and if there were they wouldn't interfere. I mean to kill you with these hands," he added, a very world of piled-up hate in his voice. "Oh, ho! that's the time of day, is it? Feeling nasty, eh?" sneered the marooned ruffian coolly. "Come on, you coward!" thundered the rover, furious with impatience and yet not daring to move on account of his blindness. He knew that if Hawksley once realised that he was blind the game was up--he would be at his mercy; and he trusted entirely to the scoundrel venturing within his reach, knowing that once he got a grip the victory would be his. "Come on yourself," cried Hawksley cunningly. "I mean to fight on the open beach, and not in the scrub," said Jack coolly, with a sudden change of tactics. "I've got plenty of time. I'll wait till you are ready"; and he sat down. Hawksley, for all his cool sneers, was as raging within as his enemy, and longed to wreak a terrible vengeance upon the hated stealer of his wife's love. Not that the man cared twopence about his wife. He had thought nothing of herding her into a crowded harem of native girls aboard the schooner; he missed no chance to insult her; he knocked her about, despised her, and yet inwardly feared her, such was the strange twist in his mean nature; but above everything he valued her as his possession, the prize of the South Seas, to play with and torture with a cruelty which he delighted in. Thus, to find her in another man's arms, as he supposed, seeking a sweet consolation for all his brutality and devilish treatment, was gall and wormwood to him. He would have preferred a chance to accomplish his purpose by some mean treachery rather than by risking himself in a stand-up fight; but what could he do? He possessed no weapon. So, trusting in a knowledge of every low fighting trick known from the coasts of Japan to Sydney and from Hongkong to the San Francisco water-front, he decided to give battle. Slowly the ruffian crept out from the protection of the trees and advanced upon the blind castaway.