was the matter. I came close to him and, looking as unconcerned as
I could, told him in an undertone that I had found the locker

broken open and the money-belt gone. Last evening it was still
there.

"What did you want to do with it?" he asked me, trembling
violently.

"Put it round my waist, of course," I answered, amazed to hear his
teeth chattering.

"Cursed gold!" he muttered. "The weight of the money might have
cost you your life, perhaps." He shuddered. "There is no time to

talk about that now."
"I am ready."

"Not yet. I am waiting for that squall to come over," he muttered.
And a few leaden minutes passed.

The squall came over at last. Our pursuer, overtaken by a sort of
murky whirlwind, disappeared from our sight. The Tremolino

quivered and bounded forward. The land ahead vanished, too, and we
seemed to be left alone in a world of water and wind.

"PRENEZ LA BARRE, MONSIEUR," Dominic broke the silence suddenly in
an austere voice. "Take hold of the tiller." He bent his hood to

my ear. "The balancelle is yours. Your own hands must deal the
blow. I - I have yet another piece of work to do." He spoke up

loudly to the man who steered. "Let the signorino take the tiller,
and you with the others stand by to haul the boat alongside quickly

at the word."
The man obeyed, surprised, but silent. The others stirred, and

pricked up their ears at this. I heard their murmurs. "What now?
Are we going to run in somewhere and take to our heels? The

Padrone knows what he is doing."
Dominic went forward. He paused to look down at Cesar, who, as I

have said before, was lying full length face down by the foremast,
then stepped over him, and dived out of my sight under the

foresail. I saw nothing ahead. It was impossible for me to see
anything except the foresail open and still, like a great shadowy

wing. But Dominic had his bearings. His voice came to me from
forward, in a just audible cry:

"Now, signorino!"
I bore on the tiller, as instructed before. Again I heard him

faintly, and then I had only to hold her straight. No ship ran so
joyously to her death before. She rose and fell, as if floating in

space, and darted forward, whizzing like an arrow. Dominic,
stooping under the foot of the foresail, reappeared, and stood

steadying himself against the mast, with a raised forefinger in an
attitude of expectant attention. A second before the shock his arm

fell down by his side. At that I set my teeth. And then -
Talk of splintered planks and smashed timbers! This shipwreck lies

upon my soul with the dread and horror of a homicide, with the
unforgettable remorse of having crushed a living, faithful heart at

a single blow. At one moment the rush and the soaring swing of
speed; the next a crash, and death, stillness - a moment of

horrible immobility, with the song of the wind changed to a
strident wail, and the heavy waters boiling up menacing and

sluggish around the corpse. I saw in a distracting minute the
foreyard fly fore and aft with a brutal swing, the men all in a

heap, cursing with fear, and hauling frantically at the line of the
boat. With a strange welcoming of the familiar I saw also Cesar

amongst them, and recognised Dominic's old, well-known, effective
gesture, the horizontal sweep of his powerful arm. I recollect

distinctly saying to myself, "Cesar must go down, of course," and
then, as I was scrambling on all fours, the swinging tiller I had

let go caught me a crack under the ear, and knocked me over
senseless.

I don't think I was actuallyunconscious for more than a few
minutes, but when I came to myself the dinghy was driving before

the wind into a sheltered cove, two men just keeping her straight
with their oars. Dominic, with his arm round my shoulders,

supported me in the stern-sheets.
We landed in a familiar part of the country. Dominic took one of

the boat's oars with him. I suppose he was thinking of the stream
we would have presently to cross, on which there was a miserable

specimen of a punt, often robbed of its pole. But first of all we
had to ascend the ridge of land at the back of the Cape. He helped

me up. I was dizzy. My head felt very large and heavy. At the
top of the ascent I clung to him, and we stopped to rest.

To the right, below us, the wide, smoky bay was empty. Dominic had
kept his word. There was not a chip to be seen around the black

rock from which the Tremolino, with her plucky heart crushed at one
blow, had slipped off into deep water to her eternal rest. The

vastness of the open sea was smothered in driving mists, and in the
centre of the thinning squall, phantom-like, under a frightful

press of canvas, the unconscious guardacosta dashed on, still
chasing to the northward. Our men were already descending the

reverse slope to look for that punt which we knew from experience
was not always to be found easily. I looked after them with dazed,

misty eyes. One, two, three, four.
"Dominic, where's Cesar?" I cried.

As if repulsing the very sound of the name, the Padrone made that
ample, sweeping, knocking-down gesture. I stepped back a pace and

stared at him fearfully. His open shirt uncovered his muscular
neck and the thick hair on his chest. He planted the oar upright

in the soft soil, and rolling up slowly his right sleeve, extended
the bare arm before my face.

"This," he began, with an extremedeliberation, whose superhuman
restraint vibrated with the suppressed violence of his feelings,

"is the arm which delivered the blow. I am afraid it is your own
gold that did the rest. I forgot all about your money." He

clasped his hands together in sudden distress. "I forgot, I
forgot," he repeated disconsolately.

"Cesar stole the belt?" I stammered out, bewildered.
"And who else? CANALLIA! He must have been spying on you for

days. And he did the whole thing. Absent all day in Barcelona.
TRADITORE! Sold his jacket - to hire a horse. Ha! ha! A good

affair! I tell you it was he who set him at us. . . ."
Dominic pointed at the sea, where the guardacosta was a mere dark

speck. His chin dropped on his breast.
". . . On information," he murmured, in a gloomy voice. "A

Cervoni! Oh! my poor brother! . . ."
"And you drowned him," I said feebly.

"I struck once, and the wretch went down like a stone - with the
gold. Yes. But he had time to read in my eyes that nothing could

save him while I was alive. And had I not the right - I, Dominic
Cervoni, Padrone, who brought him aboard your fellucca - my nephew,

a traitor?"
He pulled the oar out of the ground and helped me carefully down

the slope. All the time he never once looked me in the face. He
punted us over, then shouldered the oar again and waited till our

men were at some distance before he offered me his arm. After we
had gone a little way, the fishinghamlet we were making for came

into view. Dominic stopped.
"Do you think you can make your way as far as the houses by

yourself?" he asked me quietly.
"Yes, I think so. But why? Where are you going, Dominic?"

"Anywhere. What a question! Signorino, you are but little more
than a boy to ask such a question of a man having this tale in his

family. AH! TRADITORE! What made me ever own that spawn of a
hungry devil for our own blood! Thief, cheat, coward, liar - other

men can deal with that. But I was his uncle, and so . . . I wish
he had poisoned me - CHAROGNE! But this: that I, a confidential

man and a Corsican, should have to ask your pardon for bringing on
board your vessel, of which I was Padrone, a Cervoni, who has

betrayed you - a traitor! - that is too much. It is too much.
Well, I beg your pardon; and you may spit in Dominic's face because

a traitor of our blood taints us all. A theft may be made good
between men, a lie may be set right, a death avenged, but what can

one do to atone for a treachery like this? . . . Nothing."