She looked up, startled, and noted the haggard lines in his face. “I’ll hear it if you think I should, Fitz.” “She is dead.” “Dead? His—his wife?” “She wasn’t his wife. She was a helpless leper, whom he was trying to cure with some new serum. He had to do it secretly because there is a law forbidding any one to harbor a leper.” “Oh, Fitz!” she cried. “And she died of it?” “No. They killed her. Last night.” “They? Who?” “Government agents, probably. They were after Pruyn.” “How horrible! And—and Mrs. Pruyn. Where was she?” “There isn’t any Mrs. Pruyn. There never was.” “But the Dutch permit! It was for Dr. Pruyn and his wife.” “Sherwen misread the form. So did I. It read for Dr. Pruyn and a woman. He hoped to take her to Curaçao and complete his experiment.” “That’s what he meant when he spoke of being lawless, and I’ve been thinking the basest things of him for it!” The girl, dazed by a flash of complete enlightenment, caught at Carroll’s arm with beseeching hands. “Where is he, Fitz?” “On his way down the mountain. Perhaps down here by now.” “He’s coming to the ship?” she asked. “No; he doesn’t expect to see you again. He was coming down to make sure that we got off safely.” “Fitz, dear Fitz, I must see him!” “Miss Polly,” he said miserably, “I’ll do anything I can.” “Oh, poor Fitz!” she cried pityingly, her eyes filling with tears. “I wish for your sake it wasn’t so. And you have been so splendid about it!” “I’ve tried to make amends, and play fair. It hasn’t been easy. Shall I go back and look for him? It’s a small town, and I can find him.” “Yes. I’ll write a note. No; I won’t. Never mind. I’ll manage it. Fitz, go and rest. You’re worn out,” she said gently. Back into her stateroom went Miss Polly. From that time forth no man saw her nor woman, either, except perhaps her maid, and maids are dark and discreet persons on occasion. If this particular one kept her own counsel when she saw a trim but tremulous figure drop lightly over the starboard rail of the Polly far forward, pick up a small traveling-bag from the pier, step behind the opportune screen of a load of coffee on a flat car, and reappear to view only as a momentary swish of skirt far away at the shore end; if this same maid told Mr. Thatcher Brewster, half an hour later, that Miss Polly was asleep in her stateroom, and begged that she be disturbed on no account, as she was utterly worn out, who shall blame her for her silence on the one occasion or her speech on the other? She was but obeying, albeit with tearful misgivings, duly constituted authority.