these two years, but a long necklace of what looked like amber beads hung round her uncovered neck. It was the only ornament she had left. Bamtz had sold all her poor-enough trinkets during the flight from Saïgon—when their association began.

‘She came forward then, past the table into the light, with her usual groping gesture of extended arms, as though her soul, poor thing, had gone blind long ago, her white cheeks hollow, her eyes darkly wild—distracted, as Davidson thought. She came on swiftly, grabbed him by the arm, dragging him in. “It’s heaven itself that sent you to-night. My Tony’s so bad—come and see him. Come along—do!”

‘Davidson submitted. The only one of the men to move was Bamtz, who made as if to get up, but dropped back in his chair again. Davidson in passing heard him mutter confusedly something that sounded like, “cute little beggar.”

‘The child lying, very flushed, in a miserable cot knocked up out of gin-cases, stared at Davidson with wide unseeing eyes. It was a bad bout of fever, clearly. But while Davidson was promising to go on board and fetch some medicines, and generally trying to say reassuring things, he could not help being struck by the extraordinary manner of the woman standing by his side. Gazing with despairing, still eyes down at the cot, she would suddenly throw a quick startled glance at Davidson and then toward the other room.

“‘Yes, my poor girl,” he whispered, interpreting her distraction in his own way, though he had nothing precise in mind. “I am afraid this bodes no good to you. How is it they are here?”

‘She seized his forearm and breathed out forcibly: “No good to me! Oh, no! But what about you? They are after the dollars they think you have on board.”

‘Davidson let out an astounded, “How do they know there are any dollars?” She clapped her hands lightly, in distress.

“‘So it’s true! You have them on board? Then look out for yourself.” The stood gazing down at the boy in the cot, aware that they might be observed from the other room.

“‘We must get him to perspire as soon as possible,” said Davidson in his ordinary voice. “You’ll have to give him hot drink of some kind. I will go on board and bring you a spirit kettle among other things.…” And he added under his breath, “Do they actually mean murder?”

‘She made no sign; she never took her desolate eyes off the boy. Davidson thought she had not heard him even when, with an unchanged expression, she spoke under her breath.

“‘The Frenchman would, in a minute. The others shirk it—unless you resist. He’s a devil. He keeps them going. Without him they would have done nothing but talk. I’ve chummed with him. What can you do when you are with a man like the one I am with now? Bamtz is terrified of them, and they know it. He’s in it. Oh, Davy! Take your ship away—quick!”

“‘The late,” said Davidson. “She’s in the mud already.”

“‘If the kid hadn’t been in this state I would have run off with him—to you—into the woods—anywhere. Oh! Davy, will he die?” she cried aloud suddenly.

‘Davidson saw three men in the doorway. They made way for him without actually daring to meet his eyes. But Bamtz was the only one who looked down with an air of guilt. The Frenchman had remained lolling in his chair; he kept his stumps in his pockets and addressed Davidson.

“‘Isn’t it unfortunate about that child? The distress of that woman there upsets me, but I am of no use in the world. I couldn’t smoothe the pillow of my dearest friend. I have no hands. Would you mind sticking