Don Felix sat down and gripped the arm of his chair hard. "The man whose mark that is is a friend of the Bat's," he said, and his voice got hoarse. "I do not know if the goods are his or the other's, but I will not buy the stuff. Bad luck would go with the money one earned by handling it." He said something to Father Sebastian in rapid creole French and the priest turned to Wyndham. "It is better that you send back this cargo," he remarked quietly. "Don Felix is an honest man. He has given you advice that may cost him much." Marston pondered, with his eyes on his guest. Father Sebastian was old and shabby; he had obviously lived long with his savage flock, but he was white. His glance was calm and thoughtful and he had a touch of dignity. Marston thought he knew much about human nature and could be trusted. Don Felix, however, got up and clenched his fist. It looked as if the company of the priest and the others had given him some resolve. "What do I care about the cost?" he exclaimed in French. "I was afraid and I paid. Me, a good Catholic, I paid that these pigs might serve their devil! But it has gone on long, and now I stop. This dirty Bat will come between me and my employer; he leaves me out. Well, let it be so!" He paused and spread out his hand with a theatrical gesture that Marston thought was meant for the negroes in the canoe. "Now I fight. My trade is my blood. I will kill this Bat!" Father Sebastian shook his head, but Don Felix turned to Wyndham and resumed in a defiant voice. "You will send back the packages? If not, you must get another agent." "Very well," agreed Wyndham. "You can tell the boys to unload the goods you don't like." He gave Don Felix a quick glance and Marston wondered whether he expected him to hesitate, but the mulatto went back to the hatch and gave his orders resolutely. Marston remembered that another lot of fiber packages had been stowed at the bottom of the hold before the agent arrived and were now probably out of sight. Wyndham however, said nothing about these and filled Father Sebastian's glass. "Our friend is superstitious," he remarked. "You know something about Obeah, and Voodoo magic. I expect the men who teach the cult use cunning tricks. But how much is trickery?" "Ah," said Father Sebastian, "Who can tell? There are powers that rule the dark. You know it is permitted when you have lived in the gloom. Perhaps Don Felix is superstitious, but he takes a hard path. It is the right path; I think he is brave." Then he paused and smiled. "I am old and have lived in this country long. There is much about Voodoo and other things that puzzles me; but this I know. They who walk in the light need fear no lasting hurt." "Sometimes one's light gets dim," said Marston. "That is when we stray into the shadow and our eyes are dull. The light burns steadily; it will not go out."