face by the devil of chance, makes little difference. His plans were deliberate enough after the event.

"Within a month after sailing for home, he was back again in Singapore with his ship's company in three longboats and a tale of a lost vessel. There he remained for three months, cleaning up the business. No breath of scandal was raised against him; Ombay Pass on the turn of the monsoon had caught many a fine vessel before this one, and the account rendered by his officers and crew was straightforward and consistent. The Speedwell, according to the official record, had drifted ashore in a light breeze, before the unmanageable currents of that region, and had lodged on a coral reef at the top of the tide in such a position that she couldn't be got off. It was another case of total loss of ship and cargo; in those days there were no steam craft in the East to send on a mission of salvage, and the Eastern Passages were forbidden hunting ground. What they caught they were allowed to keep, with no words said and the page closed. The insurance companies stood the strain, the ship's affairs were settled without a hitch, and the name of the Speedwell passed simultaneously from the Maritime Register and from the books of her owners in America. Captain Wilbur let it be known that he was going home, and left Singapore.

"It was his remarkable destiny to be the revealer of his own perfidy; he made no bones about the job. Instead of going home, he went to Batavia, and there hired a schooner and crew with the proceeds of his personal holding in the Speedwell. This schooner and crew he took immediately to Ombay Pass. They found the ship still resting in the same position. What they did there must remain a mystery; I have the tale only in fragmentary form from the Lascar who was serang of Wilbur's native crew.

"He, it would seem, was overawed by the extent of the engineering operations in which he participated; his description partook of the colour and extravagance of a myth. Alone in distant waters they had wrestled like heroes with a monstrous task; day had followed day, while the great ship remained motionless and the elements paused to observe the stupendous effort. They had unloaded the cargo: they had sent down the top-hamper and rafted it alongside; they had patched and pumped, and Wilbur himself had dived in the lower hold and under the bows to place the stoppers in their proper position. So far as I can reckon, it took them a couple of months to get her off; but, by Jove, they floated her—a magnificent feat of sailorizing. Then they loaded the cargo again, and came away.

"When Captain Wilbur appeared one morning off Batavia roadstead with the Speedwell under top-gallantsails, towing the schooner, it was the sensation of the port; a sensation that flew like wildfire about the China Sea, as it became clear what he intended to do with her. For he proposed, incredible and unaccountable as it seems, to hold the ship and cargo as salvage; and nothing, apparently, could be done about it. She was actually the property of himself and the Lascar crew.

"The crowd alongshore, everyone interested in shipping, of course turned violently against him; for a time there was wild talk of extra-legal proceedings, and Wilbur might have fared ill had he attempted to frequent his old haunts just then. But he snapped his fingers at them all. He found plenty of men who were willing to advance him credit on the security of the ship: he bought off his crew with liberal allowances, took the Speedwell to Hong Kong and put her in drydock, and soon was ready for business with a fine vessel of his own. Well, he knew that personal repugnance wouldn't be carried to commercial lengths; that he and the ship, by cutting freights a little, could find plenty to do. As for the rest of it, the moral score, he seemed cheerfully prepared to face the music, and probably foresaw that with the passage of time he would be able to live down the record.

"The old Omega and I were down the China Sea on a trading voyage while these events were taking place. When we got back to Hong Kong, Wilbur had already sailed for Antwerp, leaving his story to swell the scandal and fire the indignation of the water-front. I heard it first from my friend, Lee Fu Chang.

"'An extraordinary incident, is it not?' exclaimed Lee Fu in conclusion 'Extraordinary! I am deeply interested. First of all, I am interested in your laws. Here is a man who has stolen a ship; and your laws, it is discovered, support him in the act. But the man himself is the most interesting. It is a crowning stroke, Captain Nichols, that he has not seen fit to change the name of the vessel. Consider this fact. All is as it was before, when the well-known and reputable Captain Wilbur commanded the fine ship Speedwell on voyages to the East'

"'Can it be possible?' said I 'Isn't there some mistake? The man must have the gall of a highway robber! Does the crowd have anything to do with him?'

"'None of his old associates speak in passing; they cross the street to avoid him. He goes about like one afflicted with a pestilence. But the wonder is that he is not disturbed by this treatment. That makes it very extraordinary. He is neither cringing nor brazen; he makes no protests, offers no excuse, and takes no notice. In the face of outrageous insult, Captain, he maintains an air of dignity and reserve, like a man conscious of inner rectitude'

"'Did you talk with him, Lee Fu?' I asked.

"'Oh, yes. In fact, I cultivated his acquaintance. The study fascinated me; it relieved, as it were, the daily monotony of virtue. In him there is no trace of humbug or humility. Do not think that he is a simple man. His heart in this matter is unfathomable ... well worth sounding'

"'By Jove, I believe you liked him!' I exclaimed.

"'No, not that' Lee Fu folded his hands within the long sleeves of his embroidered coat and rested them across his stomach in a characteristic attitude of meditation. 'No, quite the opposite. I abhorred him. He seemed to me unnatural, monstrous, beyond the range of common measure. Captain, there are crimes and crimes, and it has been my lot to know men who have committed many of them. There are murder, theft, arson, treason, infidelity, and all the rest; and these, in a manner of speaking, are natural crimes. Shall we define it thus: a natural crime is one which eventually brings its own retribution? Sooner or later, if justice is not done, the natural crime works havoc with its perpetrator; it plagues his conscience, it fastens like a fungus on his soul. Through lust or passion, natural impulses, he has committed error; but he cannot escape the final payment of the price. On the other hand, there are unnatural crimes, crimes for which there is no reason, crimes requiring no liquidation; and there are unnatural criminals, feeling no remorse. Such a criminal, I take it, is this Captain Wilbur, who goes his way in peace from the betrayal of a sacred trust'

"'Aren't you drawing it a little strong?' I laughed 'It isn't exactly a crime...'

"Lee Fu smiled quietly, giving me a glance that was a mere flicker of the eyelids. 'Perhaps not to you' said he 'Fixed in the mind of your race is a scale of violence by which to measure the errors of men; if no blood flows, then it is not so bad. Your justice is still a barbarian. Thus you