“Go to bed,” he repeated.

“An order?”

“An order. I’ll go along with you to the cabin. Come!” He got up.

“Can you tell me you’re not excited?”

“I am honestly terrified. I’d give ten years of my life if you were safely out of this. For seven long years I have been knocking about this world, and among other things I have learned that plans like Cunningham’s never get through per order. I don’t know what the game is, but it’s bound to fail. So I’m going to ask you, in God’s name, not to let any romantical ideas get into your head. This is bad business for all of us.”

There was something in his voice, aside from the genuine seriousness, that subdued her.

“I’ll go to bed. Shall we have breakfast together?”

“Better that way.”

To reach the port passage they had to come out into the main salon. Cleigh was in his corner reading. 139

139

“Good-night,” she called. All her bitterness toward him was gone. “And don’t worry about me.”

“Good-night,” replied Cleigh over the top of the book. “Be sure of your door. If you hear any untoward sounds in the night call to the captain whose cabin adjoins yours.”

When she and Dennison arrived at the door of her cabin she turned impulsively and gave him both her hands. He held them lightly, because his emotions were at full tide, and he did not care to have her sense it in any pressure. Her confidence in him now was absolute, and he must guard himself constantly. Poor fool! Why hadn’t he told her that last night on the British transport? What had held him back?

The uncertain future—he had let that rise up between. And now he could not tell her. If she did not care, if her regard did not go beyond comradeship, the knowledge would only distress her.

The yacht was beginning to roll now, for they were making the East China Sea. The yacht rolled suddenly to starboard, and Jane fell against him. He caught her, instantly turned her right about and gently but firmly forced her into the cabin.

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