The soldier dropped the butt of his cigar straight down between his knees. Meade laid the ends of his fingers on the edge of the table, and stared at his nails. Vogel sat a little higher in his chair. "Well, there's one thing. For three generations now our family have pursued a constructive policy. My son is almost of age. I hope he will not forget his responsibilities." Major Crupp stood up. "Shall we go outside?" Vogel stood up promptly. Meade got more slowly to his feet. "It doesn't seem real," he said to Cadogan; "so quiet! Do men die so easily?" Without waiting to hear the answer he walked after Crupp and Vogel. Lavis had not moved from his transom seat. Cadogan walked half-way to the door and returned. "You set me thinking to-night, Mr. Lavis, but I see now that it is you the Eternal Verities should select to go down into the depths." "No, no! Never immortality for me. I had my chance. I threw it away. I was dedicated to a sacred calling, Mr. Cadogan. I had almost achieved the heights, when I--fell. I sinned not only in body, but in spirit. To sin in body is to scorch the soul; but to sin in spirit is to consume the soul. Mine is but ashes. Yours is still a burning flame. And--but there is somebody at the door, I think, who wishes to speak to you." It was a man in a steward's uniform. As Cadogan reached the door, the man retreated to the shadows of the deck. Cadogan followed. It was Hames, with a square envelope in his hand. "Miss Huttle, Mr. Cadogan," he whispered, "said I was to give you this. When there was nobody about, she said, sir. I've been trying ever since, sir, to find you alone." Cadogan stepped to the light of a smoking-room air-port, held the sheet close up to the glass, and read: It was all a mistake after dinner to-night. I will explain when next we meet--if ever we do meet. But you must see that we do meet. You must. The passengers do not know, even you may not know, but it is true--the ship is going to sink. I am frightened--dreadful thoughts--if you were only near! You must save yourself. You can, if you will. You can do the impossible. You have done it before in play. Do it to-night for the woman who loves you. I know you will never go into the boats, but after they are gone, when you can no longer help another, I ask you to save yourself--save yourself not for yourself, but for me. A woman who loves--remember you said it yourself--hers is the call that no man has the choice of refusing. A woman who loves you and whose love is all for you, will be calling calling, calling, as you read this, from out on the dark sea. Come, come, come, O Beloved, to me at the last. If you do not come, I shall believe always that you did not care. But I know you will come to me. HELEN.