"Mr. Lance," said Dunbar, his face as white as a sailor's may become, and his voice low, tense, and thoroughly under command, "you saved my life, and by so doing debarred me from any action antagonistic to you while I retained that life. But you have forfeited yours. You could go back to New York, stand trial for the murder of a helpless infant, and die in the chair--which death would not atone for the suffering you would inflict upon this girl that I loved, and upon me. For she would be flouted by the world. And so, to save her from this flouting, and because you have got to die, I appoint myself your executioner, out here at sea where there are no reporters to give the facts to the world. But in killing you I give you back the life that you gave me; for that life is nothing to me compared with the happiness of Ella Madison. Come! Come on deck, and go overboard with me." "What--what?" stuttered Lance, his eyes wide open in terror. "What are you thinking of? If you love this girl, marry her. I will stand the expense and start you in life. You can command this yacht at double your present pay, or I will secure you an interest in and the command of a ship. This seems a pleasant solution of this very unpleasant business. Come, now, what do you say?" "Damn you!" roared Dunbar, and his fist shot out. Lance was fairly hurled by the impact on his jaw against the bulkhead, where he fell to the floor. Before he was well on his feet Dunbar had him by the throat. "On deck with you," he said, as Lance struggled in his grasp. "Come, and we'll follow the baby." "Dunbar," I shouted. "Stop this. Are you going to be a murderer, too? Leave this to the law. The law is adequate." "The law will publish her shame to the world," he replied, as calmly as a man may speak while struggling with one under mortal fear of death. For Lance had roused himself to the necessity of action. He was, a tall, strong man, nearly the match for Dunbar. They fought and struggled round that cabin floor, while my wife screamed and finally fainted. But I could give her no attention; I was trying, though a man getting on to old age, to separate these two men, one bent upon death, the other fighting for life. Through the open stateroom door Ella must have heard it all.