Pen and Don left alone on deck, leaned over the rail and pressing their shoulders together, gazed down at the black water etched with phosphorescence where the little waves lapped against the vessel's side and rolled back again. "I love you," Don whispered. "Whatever happens, you have made life to me worth living." Pen caught her breath. "Ah, don't speak," she murmured. "Or I sha'n't ... be able to go through with it." They groped for each other's hands. They had not to wait long. They saw Riever coming through the lighted deck saloon before he could see them. The watchman accompanied him, and another man, a sort of valet-bodyguard. Riever was wearing a gorgeous orange and blue flowered dressing-gown. His face looked puffier than by day, but his thin hair was carefully brushed. He had an expression of oddly strained eagerness. As they came through the door, one of the men turned a switch and the deck was flooded with light. Riever's sharpened gaze flew first to Pen's face, and from Pen to Don. For a fraction of a second he did not recognize him, but Don grinned, and said coolly: "Hello, Ernest!" Then he knew. His face became convulsed. "Counsell!" he cried in a high strained voice. He whirled on the watchman. "Blow your whistle! Rouse the ship!" The shrill, wailing sound pierced the night. Half beside himself Riever cried to Don: "You fox! I've run you to earth at last!" "You didn't," said Don, smiling at him steadily. "Well, you're caught! You've seen the last of the sun. You're done for!" Doors opened and slammed throughout the yacht. Feet came running. Among the first to arrive was the skipper from his quarters up forward, struggling into his coat as he ran. Pen looked on at it all, strangely detached. She felt as if she were watching the actors in the scene, including herself, from some point outside her body. To each new arrival Riever cried: "We've got Counsell!" It was almost a scream. "There he is! Secure him! Put him in the strong room forward of the staterooms. Have an armed guard at the door day and night. If he resists put him in irons!" The skipper and another clapped hands on Don's shoulders. Don said: "Take your hands off me, and I'll go with you quietly." Surrounded by his creatures, Riever, his face swollen and flaming, walked up close to Don and all but spat on him. He had lost all control of himself. He had forgotten Pen's presence. "You grinning blackguard!" he cried. "Grin while you can! You won't be grinning when they lead you out to the chair! And I'll be there to see it!" Pen turned away her face. She could not be angry at the little man; he was beneath it. She was sickened with disgust. As for Don, he merely drew down the corners of his lips aggravatingly, and drawled: "Be yourself! Be yourself, Ernest! You're all wet!" A titter was heard on the outside of the circle. "Take him away!" Riever cried furiously.