“Why don’t you tell him?” she demanded. “Why don’t you say you didn’t give the bromides?” “Why not?” Mrs. Johns raised herself on her elbow and looked at me. “Why should we?” she asked. “How do we know what you are giving him? You are not friendly to him or to us. We know what you are trying to do—you are trying to save yourself, at any cost. You put a guard at the companionway. You rail off the deck for our safety. You drop the storeroom key in Mr. Turner’s cabin, where Elsa will find it, and will be obliged to acknowledge she found it, and then take it from her by force, so you can show it later on and save yourself!” Elsa turned on her quickly. “I told you how he got it, Adele. I tried to throw it—” “Oh, if you intend to protect him!” “I am rather bewildered,” I said slowly; “but, under the circumstances, I suppose you do not wish me to look after Mr. Turner?” “We think not”—from Mrs. Turner. “How will you manage alone?” Mrs. Johns got up and lounged to the table. She wore a long satin negligee of some sort, draped with lace. It lay around her on the floor in gleaming lines of soft beauty. Her reddish hair was low on her neck, and she held a cigarette, negligently, in her teeth. All the women smoked, Mrs. Johns incessantly. She laid one hand lightly on the revolver, and flicked the ash from her cigarette with the other. “We have decided,” she said insolently, “that, if the crew may establish a dead-line, so may we. Our dead-line is the foot of the companionway. One of us will be on watch always. I am an excellent shot.” “I do not doubt it.” I faced her. “I am afraid you will suffer for air; otherwise, the arrangement is good. You relieve me of part of the responsibility for your safety. Tom will bring your food to the steps and leave it there.” “Thank you.” “With good luck, two weeks will see us in port; and then—” “In port! You are taking us back?” “Why not?” She picked up the revolver and examined it absently. Then she glanced at me, and shrugged her shoulders. “How can we know? Perhaps this is a mutiny, and you are on your way to some God forsaken island. That’s the usual thing among pirates, isn’t it?” “I have no answer to that, Mrs. Johns,” I said quietly, and turned to where Elsa sat. “I shall not come back unless you send for me,” I said. “But I want you to know that my one object in life from now on is to get you back safely to land; that your safety comes first, and that the vigilance on deck in your interest will not be relaxed.” “Fine words!” the stewardess muttered. The low mumbling from Turner’s room had persisted steadily. Now it rose again in the sharp frenzy that had characterized it through the long night. “Don’t look at me like that, man!” he cried, and then “He’s lost a hand! A hand!” Mrs. Turner went quickly into the cabin, and the sounds ceased. I looked at Elsa, but she avoided my eyes. I turned heavily and went up the companionway. CHAPTER XV. A KNOCKING IN THE HOLD