"Where?" The relentless voice was hard and cold. "Here, and later in the city!" "Did"--Janet paused and bent forward, her tense face burning and eager--"did you love her?" Why this question was wrung from her, the girl could not have told. It was in her heart and would have its way. "No." Devant's voice was husky, but he would save the future from the clutch of the past, if it were in his power to do so. "But she loved you!" For the life of him, the man could not face his accuser. His eyes dropped. "I know! I know! You need not tell me. That is the reason she let you keep her picture!" She swayed. For the first time in her vigorous, young life Janet felt faint. Devant sprang toward her. "Don't, please!" she cried, recovering herself almost at once and turning toward the door; "I'm going to my Cap'n Billy!" "Janet!" He tried to stay her. He had much to say, if only he knew how to say it. She might be going to--what? An awful danger seemed to yawn at her innocent feet, but his early sin forbade his interference. "I'm going to my Cap'n Billy!" There was no backward glance. Devant heard the outer door close; then he sank in his chair and bowed his head upon the two photographs. "Where your mother went before you!" he groaned. "Poor little flotsam and jetsam!" CHAPTER XI "There goes Janet like a shot from a gun!" "Whar?" Davy and Mark were hauling oil up to the lamp. They stood upon the little balcony, and had a good view of the girl as she ran like a wild thing over the stretch of ground between the lighthouse and the wharf. "Ho! Janet!" shouted Davy, leaning over the railing. "What's got ye? Ain't ye goin' t' wait fur dinner--an' me?" Janet paused, and the face she turned up to the balcony moved the hearts of both men to alarm. "I cannot wait!" she called back. "I'm going to Cap'n Daddy!" Then a thought caused her to add, "Don't either of you come after me! I want nobody but my Cap'n Billy." "Now, what's knocked her endwise?" groaned Davy, staring blankly at Mark. "Like as not she's been gettin' a cargo that she don't fancy, up to Bluff Head." Mark's face was drawn with pity. "I come down on the train with Mr. Devant. Maybe he's set her straight 'bout that Land-lubber-of-the-Hills!" Poor Davy, detached by his duties and environments from the common gossip of his kind, bent a puzzled look upon his companion. "Land-lubber-of-the-Hills? What in the name o' Sin be ye talkin' of?" "Don't you know what they say 'bout her?" asked Mark, his dull eyes fixed on the sail of the _Comrade_, as it put off from the dock.