John Garrison Rayne watched the captain till he disappeared up the stairway. Then he stooped and picked up the revolver Clayton had dropped, putting it into his pocket. The young man had fallen into a chair at the big table in the middle of the saloon, and was sitting there, his head resting upon his arms, the picture of despair. The Apache strode deliberately into the stateroom--for he was afraid to hurry or show any eagerness, lest he should be suspected--and picked up the suit case. As he brought it to the table, he was surprised to find that it was not locked. He opened it and turned out its contents upon the table as if they had been a heap of pebbles. It was his way of showing that he regarded the booty from a purely official point of view. Paul Clayton did not look up. He seemed to have lost interest in everything in the world just then. Rayne had seen the jewels before. But he could not keep the glint out of his eyes as they fell upon the glittering stones and gold settings which would mean a fortune to him. He had been at his last gasp financially when he had come on board the old tramp steamer. He had had enough to pay his fare and provide himself with cigars, and that was about all. He felt that he must make a killing now, no matter at what risk. It was just as Rayne had the jewels spread out on the table that Captain Bill Lawton came down again. His eyes fell upon the display, and he could not get his breath. The genial skipper did not know much about the value of gems and richly chased gold ornaments. But he felt sure this heap must be worth a great deal of money. He found himself regretting that he had not known what this young man had in his cabin. How easy it would have been for the captain to get hold of the suit case, empty it into a bag of his own, and go ashore, saying good-by to the sea forever! Captain Lawton might not have been guilty of this bit of villainy, even if he had had the opportunity. But certainly he allowed his thoughts to roam in this way, while a ruminative smile moved his hard lips. John Garrison Rayne, familiar with the look of cupidity that steals over the faces of some men, divined pretty well what was passing in Captain Lawton’s mind. He brought the commander to himself sharply, by remarking, in a matter-of-fact tone: “This stuff seems to be all right. I don’t see that anything is missing. But I’ll have to compare them with my list before I can be sure.” He shoveled the jewelry back into the suit case as if he had no personal interest in the valuables, and shut the case with a snap. “You will have two men to guard my prisoner, Captain Lawton,” he said shortly. “I shall have to hold you responsible for his safe-keeping. But I am not afraid that he will get away. I don’t see how he can, so long as he is kept down here. He couldn’t get out of any of the portholes.” “He won’t get away!” grunted Captain Lawton. “I’ll answer for that.”