"It is a world," he declared cruelly, "in which we fight always for our own hand or go under. I am fighting for mine, and if I have occasionally to sacrifice a friend as well as an enemy, I do not hesitate." "What has the world done to you," she demanded, "that you should speak so bitterly?" "Better not ask me that." "How will the man Phillips' death affect your plans?" "It will make very little difference either way," he assured her. "We rather expected him to die." "And you won't take me any further into your confidence?" "No further. Your task will be completed at Liverpool. So long as you leave this steamer in company with the doctor and the ambulance, if Phillips is still alive, you will be free to return home whenever you please." "Very well," she said. "You see, I accept my position. I shall go through with what I have promised, whatever Mr. Crawshay may say. Won't you in return treat me, if not as a confederate, as a friend?" He turned and looked at her, met the appealing glance of her soft eyes for a moment and looked suddenly away. "I do not belong to the ranks of those, Miss Beverley, from whom it is well for you to choose your friends." "But why should I not make my own choice?" she insisted. "I have always been my own mistress. I have lived with my own ideas, I have declined to be subject to any one's authority. I am an independent person. Can't you treat me as such?" "There are facts," he said, "which can never be ignored. You belong to the world of wealthy, gently born men and women who comprise what is called Society. I belong, and have belonged all my life, to a race of outcasts." "Don't!" she begged. "It is true," he repeated doggedly. "But what do you mean by outcasts?" "Criminals, if you like it better. I have broken the law more than once. There is an unexecuted warrant out against me at the present moment. You may even see me marched off this steamer at Liverpool between two policemen." "But why?" she asked passionately. "Why? What is the motive of it all? Is it money?" "I am not in need of money," he told her, "but I have a great and sacred use for all I can lay my fingers on. If I succeed in my present enterprise, I shall receive a hundred thousand pounds." "I value Jerry's life and future at more than that," she declared. "Will you make a fresh start, Mr. Jocelyn Thew, with twice that sum of money to your credit?" He shook his head, but there was a curious change creeping into his face. For the first time she saw how soft a man's dark-blue eyes may sometimes become. The slight trembling of his parted lips, too, seemed to unlock all the cruel, hard lines of his face. He had suddenly the appearance of a person of temperament--a poet, even a dreamer. "I could not take money from you, Miss Beverley," he said, "or from any other woman in the world." "Upon no conditions?" she whispered softly. "Upon no conditions," he repeated.