“... Yes, come back to us!” she was saying. “Oh, we could not live without you----” It did not seem real to him for a moment. He turned from her merciful eyes. Fleury was sitting there in the centre, holding the child with hands that trembled. The boat rode lightly, though water lay in the bottom. He turned farther. Yes, the seat in the stern was empty. “He is dead?” Bellair whispered. “Yes,” she answered. “And we did not kill him,” Fleury added. “But how did he get overside?” “You helped,” they told him. He did not remember. “And the child?” “The little Gleam is all right. All is well with us, Bellair.” Something of the encounter returned now. “I do not belong here with you,” he said. “The thing--at the last--came for me----” Then he realised how absurd this would sound--as if some ogre had come. Yet they understood. “I thought it had come for me,” the woman answered quietly. “I said that, and _he_----”she turned with a smile to the preacher,“--and he said the same--that it had come for him. We will forget that. Something freed us----” Bellair turned to the child. “It was the little Gleam who freed us,” Fleury said. “How did you get that name?” Bellair asked. “You said it.” “How long have I been lying here?” “Ten minutes.” He rested a moment longer.... The woman was sane, the child unhurt. Stackhouse was dead, and they had not murdered him. It was the fourth sunset.... Bellair sat up and turned his eyes to the sea. The great body was near. It would not sink. They tried to row, but were too weak to pull far. The calm sea would not cover it from their eyes.... Even the birds did not come to it, and there was no tugging from the deep. The terrible battle of the day had left them whimpering--drained men, in the pervading calm of the sea, under the dry cloudless heat and light of the sky. Fleury and Bellair looked at each other and their eyes said: “We did not murder him.” They looked again and found the woman saner than they. They turned over her shoulder to the blotch upon the sea. It floated high, drifted with them. They could not speak connectedly, but longed for the night.... At last, they heard her voice: “It is very great to me to know that there are such men in the world. As a little girl in New Zealand I used to picture such heroes--such brothers and heroes. I came to doubt it afterward, and that was evil in me. I see now that the dream was true----” They listened like two little boys. “See, the cool is coming!” she added. “The child is glad, too. To-night, we will talk!” “You will tell us a story?” Fleury said. “Yes, when it is darker. It is all so safe and quiet now. We are all one.” That meant something to Bellair. Later when it was dark, and they had supped, he said: “It’s good--the way you count me in, but you shouldn’t. I don’t belong, much as I’d like to. I misjudged you at first. I misjudged Fleury--and him----” he pointed over her shoulder to the sea.