In front, all was different, and Marston could not see where his path led. Mystery, and perhaps horror, deepened the gloom through which he must grope his way, and his face was grim as he went down the ladder. He did not talk while the sailors rowed him to _Columbine_, and leaving Wyndham to give the crew some orders he sat down on the gratings by the wheel. The dew was falling and the deck was damp. Moisture dripped from the masts and ropes, and it was very hot. The anchor light tossed against the portentous gloom of the land. The yacht looked old and dirty, though Marston knew her strength and speed; the half-naked crew made no noise as they stole about. Their dark skin was scarcely distinguishable and Marston thought they rather looked like ghosts than men. In the meantime, the steamer's boat was pulling back. Marston saw her move across the dim reflections on the water, but the splash of oars got faint and by and by she vanished in the dark. Then a whistle shrieked and lights that twinkled in the distance began to move. The throb of engines traveled far, but it presently died away and all was quiet. Marston was launched on his adventure, and since he was practical, he went below and studied the chart. CHAPTER II MARSTON GETS A WARNING It was dark and the mud village was strangely quiet. Thin mist drifted about the house Don Felix had occupied, and Wyndhams' new agent leaned forward slackly with his arm on the table. He was a young French creole, but his face was pinched and careworn. Marston, sitting in a corner, studied the man. When he last saw Lucien Moreau he was vigorous and marked by a careless confidence. Now his glance was furtive and sometimes he fixed it on the window. There was no glass and the shutters had been left open because the night was hot. Marston remembered Don Felix's disconcerting habit of looking at the window when it was dark. The miasma from the swamps had obviously undermined Moreau's health; but Marston doubted if this accounted for all. Moreau had been talking for two or three minutes when Wyndham stopped him. "I understand you want to give up your post?" he said. "That is so," the other agreed. "For one thing, you do not need an agent when you are closing down your business." He paused and gave Wyndham a sullen look. "Besides, I have had enough." "Your pay is good." "Good pay is of no use if one dies before one can spend it," Moreau rejoined. "Very well," said Wyndham. "If you have had enough, we must try to let you go. However, since your engagement runs for some time, you must stay a month." Moreau agreed unwillingly and Wyndham asked: "Have you sent for the fellow who gave us our last load?" "He is coming to-night. You will stay until he goes?" "Of course," said Wyndham, smiling. "I don't want to put too much strain on you. It looks as if you were afraid of your customers."