He started to lower his arms. Two revolver muzzles jerked up and held their aim at his chest. The hands that held them were as steady as the hands of a stone image, and his keen stare could detect no trace of nervousness in the face of their owner. Mr. Maggs, wise in his generation, read the threat of sudden death in the girl’s cold eyes, and stopped. “Down the companion,” said Patricia. “And don’t try to get away or shout or anything. There’s bound to be shooting sooner or later, and it might as well start on you.” Maggs complied to the letter. He was too old a hand not to recognise a bluff when he saw one, and he knew that this slip of a girl with the two guns wasn’t bluffing. He went slowly down the companion and waited, and in a moment he heard her step down on the deck behind him, and again the revolver nosed into the small of his back. “Now—where’s the Tiger?” He chuckled. “You’re wrong there, you! The Tiger isn’t coming on this trip—he was persuaded not to.” “Where would you like to be shot?” she asked frostily. “That won’t alter it,” said Maggs. “I tell you, the Tiger isn’t on board. I can’t tell you why, and I can’t tell you where he is, but the other guys arrived without him, and said he might come later or probably he mightn’t come at all. You can ask Bittle.” She could not decide whether the man was lying or not, but she sensed that he was manœuvring for an opportunity to turn the tables on her. “Where is Bittle?” “The left-hand cabin.” “Lead right in there,” said Patricia, and knew by the way he hesitated that he had lied, and that he had been hoping she would postpone entering that cabin and take him into the one on the right, where perhaps Bittle was. He opened the door and there she stopped him. “Walk right in—and keep well away from the door. If you try to slam it in my face you’ll get hurt.” He submitted perforce, and she followed him in and kicked the door to. She was then in a dilemma—a man could have tied Maggs up and left him, but Patricia could not trust herself to do that, since she would have no chance against him if he turned on her while she was unarmed, and she could not truss him up effectively with one hand. And she could hardly lock him in loose, when he could smash a porthole and raise the alarm as soon as she passed on. In fact, there was only one way to eliminate Mr. Maggs. . . . Swiftly she reversed the revolver in her right hand, swept it up, and crashed it down with all her strength on the back of his head.