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You see, Miss Harding, that I have been as badly deceived as you. Won't you let

me help to atone for my error by being your friend? I can assure you that you will

need one whom you can trust amongst this shipload of scoundrels."

Who am I to believe?" cried the girl. "Mr. Divine assures me that he, too, has

been forced into this affair, but by threats of death rather than deception."

The expression on Mr. Theriere's face was eloquent of sarcastic incredulity.

"How about the note of introduction that I carried to your father from Mr.

Divine?" asked Theriere.

He says that he was compelled to write it at the point of a revolver," replied the

girl.

"Come with me, Miss Harding," said the officer. "I think that I may be able to

convince you that Mr. Divine is not on any such bad terms with Skipper Simms

as would be the case were his story to you true."

As he spoke he started toward the companionway leading to the officers' cabins.

Barbara Harding hesitated at the top of the stairway.

Have no fear, Miss Harding," Theriere reassured her. "Remember that I am your

friend and that I am merely attempting to prove it to your entire satisfaction. You

owe it to yourself to discover as soon as possible who your friends are aboard this

ship, and who your enemies."

"Very well," said the girl. "I can be in no more danger one place aboard her than

another."

Theriere led her directly to his own cabin, cautioning her to silence with upraised

forefinger. Softly, like skulking criminals, they entered the little compartment.

Then Theriere turned and closed the door, slipping the bolt noiselessly as he did

so. Barbara watched him, her heart beating rapidly with fear and suspicion.

Here," whispered Theriere, motioning her toward his berth. "I have found it

advantageous to know what goes on beyond this partition. You will find a small

round hole near the head of the berth, about a foot above the bedding. Put your

ear to it and listen--I think Divine is in there now."

The girl, still frightened and fearful of the man's intentions, did, nevertheless, as

he bid. At first she could make out nothing beyond the partition but a confused

murmur of voices, and the clink of glass, as of the touch of the neck of a bottle

against a goblet. For a moment she remained in tense silence, her ear pressed to

the tiny aperture. Then, distinctly, she heard the voice of Skipper Simms.

The Mucker