The pallor of her face accentuated the rich darkness of her hair.  Even her lips were pale.  But she was not embarrassed.  Her eyes were clear and unafraid now, and in the poise of her head and body was a sureness of purpose that staggered him.  A feeling of anger, almost of personal resentment, began to possess him as he waited for her to speak.  This, at last, was the cost of his courtesies to her, The advantage she was taking of him was an indignity and an outrage, and his mind flashed to the suspicion that Rossland was standing just outside the door.

In another moment he would have brushed her aside and opened it, but her quiet face held him.  The tenseness was fading out of it.  He saw her lips tremble, and then a miracle happened.  In her wide-open, beautiful eyes tears were gathering.  Even then she did not lower her glance or bury her face in her hands, but looked at him bravely while the tear-drops glistened like diamonds on her cheeks.  He felt his heart give way.  She read his thoughts, had guessed his suspicion, and he was wrong.

“You—­you will have a seat, Miss Standish?” he asked lamely, inclining his head toward the cabin chair.

“No.  Please let me stand.”  She drew in a deep breath.  “It is late, Mr. Holt?”

“Rather an irregular hour for a visit such as this,” he assured her.  “Half an hour after midnight, to be exact.  It must be very important business that has urged you to make such a hazard aboard ship, Miss Standish.”

For a moment she did not answer him, and he saw the little heart-throb in her white throat.

“Would Belinda Mulrooney have considered this a very great hazard, Mr. Holt?  In a matter of life and death, do you not think she would have come to your cabin at midnight—­even aboard ship?  And it is that with me—­a matter of life and death.  Less than an hour ago I came to that decision.  I could not wait until morning.  I had to see you tonight.”

“And why me?” he asked.  “Why not Rossland, or Captain Rifle, or some other?  Is it because—­”

He did not finish.  He saw the shadow of something gather in her eyes, as if for an instant she had felt a stab of humiliation or of pain, but it was gone as quickly as it came.  And very quietly, almost without emotion, she answered him.

“I know how you feel.  I have tried to place myself in your position.  It is all very irregular, as you say.  But I am not ashamed.  I have come to you as I would want anyone to come to me under similar circumstances, if I were a man.  If watching you, thinking about you, making up my mind about you is taking an advantage—­then I have been unfair, Mr. Holt.  But I am not sorry.  I trust you.  I know you will believe me good until I am proved bad.  I have come to ask you to help me.  Would you make it possible for another human being to avert a great tragedy if you found it in your power to do so?”

He felt his sense of judgment wavering.  Had he been coolly analyzing such a situation in the detached environment of the smoking-room, he would have called any man a fool who hesitated to open his cabin door and show his visitor out.  But such a thought did not occur to him now.  He was thinking of the handkerchief he had found the preceding midnight.  Twice she had come to his cabin at a late hour.