Her eyes were fixed upon him in the fascination of terrified suspense. She could not move or speak; but at a quick upward motion of his arm the horror of what was about to happen-of the thought that she was about to become accessory to a crime as black as that from which she was seeking to clear her husband-overcame all selfish care for her own safety, and she was on the point of shrieking out a warning to Carrach, who was still staring at her in perfect ignorance of the peril so near him, when she was unexpectedly spared the necessity of betraying the man on whose help she counted for release.

Grainger, at the very moment when he seemed gathering his strength for the blow, suddenly wheeled about, flung the belaying pin from him, and walked back with a surly swagger

to the helm.

A load seemed to be lifted from her breast, and then she became perplexed, but not afraid now of the Highlander's lovemaking, for she was assured that very little provocation was needed to transform the steersman into an open mutineer.

At the noise caused by the rolling of the belaying-pin along the deck, Carrach turned himself round in the direction. "What was you doing, Grainger ?" he called.

No answer.

"Did you'll no hear what I was spoking ?" cried the skipper, incensed.

"Aye, I hear; what would I be doing but minding the helm ?" growled the man.

"You'll make the civil spoke afore very long while-petam."

He turned round again to Jeanie and once more invited her to resume her seat, but with a degree of gruff authority this time.

"Did ye no hear onything ?" she said, pretending to listen. "No-where ?"

"I thought I heard the door o' your cabin shutting-is there a key in the lock?"

"Yes. What about that ?"

Gang doon and see; there's somebody below, I'm sure." "There couldna be nobody there but Donald, and I didna see him go doon. But I'll look and fill the bottle again too." He rose slowly, but quite as steady as usual, and moved toward the cabin. The instant his foot was on the first stair she darted over to Grainger.

"Ye heard what he said ?" she whispered excitedly; "oh will ye no help me for the sake o' the wife and bairns ye hae at hame?"

'Help ye to what ?" (surly as ever.)

"To win on shore."*

"What for?"

"Did ye no hear?

That man has done a murder, and I want to win hame to save him wha is falsely charged wi' the death o' James Falcon. Ye'll help me. For God's sake say ye will ?"

"James Falcon murdered-I canna believe that."

She shrank back a step. He seemed to be ruthlessly crushing the hopes his conduct had inspired in her.

"Did ye ken him ?" she asked piteously.
There was a pause. Then growlingly.—
"Aye, we sailed in the same ship thegither."
"And was he a friend o' yours ?"

Another pause.

Aye, a sort o' a friend.”

26 Then your friend lies cauld and dead, and in his name I cry on ye to help me. He had ay a true kind heart, and if he was your friend ye maun hae ken'd that. He wouldna hae said no to ane that was in sair distress and needing help that he could gie, and surely ye winna say no when I speak to ye in his name."

"It's no sae lang since I saw him safe enuch."

There was no tone of yielding in his gruff voice.

"But I tell ye since then he's been stricken doon-him that was ay brave and ready to help others, was stricken doon in the dark, and yon man's hand struck the blow. Oh, will ye no believe me when I tell ye that my ain man is lying in the jail enow charged wi' the crime?”

"I dinna see what I can do for ye."

"I'll show ye what to do for me in a minute, and there's a' that gowd doon the stair."

"Aye, there's the gowd!"

"I'll no say a word about it, and he daurna; sae that ye can hae it a' for yoursel."

She touched his arm gratefully with her hand. She fancied that he was trembling; but there was no time to think of that.

She ran to the cabin stair. There was a light at the foot proceeding from the skipper's room. She heard him tumble against some bottles, and she was about to descend the stair when the door opened, and he came out.

The opportunity she had speculated on seemed lost, but with a quickness which at any other time would have amazed herself, she found an expedient.

"Hae ye looked if the gowd's a' safe in the locker?" she called to him.

"Oich, no, there was no need," he answered, looking up with his hand on the key of the door, which was placed in the lock on the outside, ready for him to turn it.

"Look and make sure," she said.

Muttering to himself he turned back. Her purpose was to lock him in, and then get Grainger to steer for the nearest port. Donald could easily be secured whilst he slept.

She glided down the stair swiftly, noiselessly. She closed the door and attempted to turn the key; but it had become displaced, and in the second occupied in replacing it the door was roughly pulled open, and Carrach clutched her wrist.

"What was you doing?" he said, with that croak of satisfaction. "Was you wanting to lock me up? Shust come in and see how you'll like it yoursel'."

She was so much overcome by this unexpected check to her stratagem, that at first she could not utter a word or cry for help. But as he rudely dragged her into the cabin, she gave vent to a shrill scream.

"That was no goot," he said, pushing her back; "did you'll thocht I didna see you make a spoke to Grainger? Oich, you was mistook then. So shust sit doon and I'll go and rouse Donald and come back to you. Yes-pe-tam.”

And he went out croaking with delight and locking the door upon her.

With another wild cry for help, which she thought Grainger must hear and answer, she dashed herself against the door trying to force it open. But it was strong, as the skipper had informed her when she had hoped to secure him by its aid, and she could not even shake it. She beat her hands helplessly against it with as a little effect as a child's hand might have produced on a rock.

She fancied she heard the sound of a scuffle above, and she became still, listening intently. But if there had been any struggle between the men it was very brief, for it was over before she had collected herself sufficiently to listen.

She heard nothing but the monotonous plash of the waves against the timber, and the occasional rush of the wind as it swept in gusts over the vessel.

CHAPTER XLI.

SUSPENSE.

"Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,

A bluidy man I trow thou be;

For mony a heart thou hast made sair,

That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee."-Burns.

HALF an hour of agonizing suspense, and still Grainger did not come to release her. But neither did Carrach return as he had promised to do, and that was much to be thankful for, if she had not been suffering too acutely to find consolation in anything save positive rescue from the terrors which oppressed her.

By the dim light of the lantern swinging from the ceiling she searched the cabin for some instrument which might have

assisted her to force the door; but she found none. She returned at last to the door and crouched down beside it, stupified and wretched. She had been so often that night within arm's reach of success, and she had been so often repulsed, that courage and hope seemed exhausted utterly.

In a dull dreary way she sought the meaning of her desertion. If Grainger had mastered the skipper he would certainly have come straight to the cabin to make sure of the gold. How promptly he had agreed to assist her when she had told him that it would all be his! What a potent fiend was this gold which could move men to any hazard who would not raise a finger to help a weary heart! She hated it, and yet a little while ago she had been grateful to it, for it had served in securing the surly Grainger. The ill-gotten store had seemed likely to work its own retribution, and at the last moment it had failed. Might it not succeed yet?

The question roused her. She had been in that half-waking state when thought passes through the mind by a mysterious and involuntary agency as in dreams. But that short sharp question had wakened her as if a drum had beat in her ear. She could form no idea of how long she had been dozing; but the lantern was burning dimly and flickering as it swung as if the oil were nearly burned out.

The soft rocking of the vessel, the plash, plash of the waves, and the whistling wind through the rigging, brought to her mind with many sharp pangs the dread reality of all that had passed, the cruel fear of all that might be to come.

She was chilled and stiff, so that she calculated she must have been a long while in the cramped position in which she found herself. She gained her feet with difficulty, and listened for any sound of human voice or movement which might betoken who was master of the schooner.

She covered her face with her hands. There was no gleam of hope to support her. Carrach must have roused Donald and with his help pinioned Grainger. He had not returned to her as he had threatened because he desired to be well out at sea before he again assailed her with his brutish wooing