She lifted her chin. "I am beginning to appreciate Mr. Landover's att.i.tude toward you, Mr. Percival," she said icily.

"And to justify it, I suppose," he said dejectedly. "I want your friendship, Miss Clinton,--yes, I want a great deal more than your friendship. You may as well know it. I'm not asking for it,--I'm just telling you. Please don't go away. I promise not to make myself ridiculous. You have been good to me, you have been wonderful. I--I can't bear the thought of losing your friendship or your respect. I just had to bring Landover to time. You may think there was some other way, but I do not. At any rate, it isn't a matter that we can discuss. Some day you may admit that I was right, but I don't believe I will ever see the day when I will admit that I was wrong. Won't--can't we be friends?"

"I do not believe I can ever feel the same toward you after witnessing what I did this morning," said she, shaking her head. "You deliberately, intentionally degraded Mr. Landover in the presence of others. Was that the act of a gentleman? No! It was the act of an overbearing, arrogant bully who had nothing to fear. You took advantage of your authority and of the fact that he is so rich and powerful that he is practically without a friend or champion. You knew only too well that ninety-nine per cent of the people on board this ship were behind you in your attack on him because he represents capital! You had nothing to fear. No, Mr.

Percival, I don't believe we can be friends. I am sorry."

"You heard what Mr. Landover said to me this morning, Miss Clinton,"

said he, paling. "You heard what he called me. Do you believe these things of me?"

She was silent for a moment. "No, I do not," she replied slowly. "I believe that you are all you have represented yourself to be."

"Thank you," he said, with gentle dignity. "I am sorry if I have distressed you this evening. Please don't think too harshly of me when I say that I just had to find out how we stand, you and I. Now that I know, I can only promise not to bother you again, and you may rely on my promises. I never break them. Good-night, Miss Clinton."

He bowed to Mrs. Spofford, who ignored him, and then to Ruth, a wistful smile struggling to his lips and eyes as he did so. As he turned away, she spoke to him.

"You mentioned your hand being bad again. If you would like me to dress it for you,--under the circ.u.mstances,--I will do so."

"Ruth!" cried Mrs. Spofford in a shocked voice.

He put his left hand behind his back. It was the one with which he had gripped Landover's wrist that morning. The strain had reopened the partially healed wounds.

"I injured it this morning in an encounter with your friend, Miss Clinton. I can hardly ask you to dress it. Thank you, just the same."

"I know all that happened in Mr. Landover's cabin, but even so, I am ready and willing to do anything in my power to ease the pain you are suffering." She spoke calmly, dispa.s.sionately, almost perfunctorily.

He shook his head. "I shouldn't have spoken of it," he said. "It isn't so bad that I can't fix it up myself. Good-night."

She joined her aunt and they made their way in silence to the latter's stateroom. It was not until after the door was safely locked that Mrs.

Spofford delivered herself of the thought that had been in her mind the whole length of the slanting corridor.

"I hope he will not take advantage of his position to--to bully us--to bully you, dearest,--he might, you know. He has shown himself to be perfectly capable of it. And we are so defenceless. No one but Abel Landover to look to for help if he,--for, of course, no one else would dare oppose this lawless young,--oh, you need not smile! He has the power and it is quite plain now that he intends to exercise it. He will brook no interference--"

"I am not afraid of Mr. Percival, Aunt Julia," said the girl, sitting down wearily on the edge of the berth. "He is a gentleman."

"A--a gentleman?" gasped Mrs. Spofford. "Good gracious!"

"He will not annoy me," said Ruth, absently study-ing the tips of her slim, shapely shoes. "Possess your soul in peace. I think I know him."

"Are you defending the braggart?"

"Not at all! I detest him," cried the girl, springing to her feet, her face crimsoning. "He is perfectly abominable."

"I--I wouldn't speak quite so loudly, my dear," cautioned her aunt, glancing at the door uneasily--"It would be like him to listen outside the door,--or at any rate, one of his men may have been set to spy upon--"

"Don't be silly, Aunt Julia. And don't be afraid. Mr. Percival isn't going to make us walk the plank for mutiny, or put us in chains,--or outrage us,--if that is what you are thinking. Now, go to bed, you old dear, and--"

"I insist on your staying in my room, Ruth. He is in love with you."

"He can be in love with me and still be a gentleman, can't he, Aunt Julia? Don't worry! I shall sleep in my own room. I may even go so far as to leave my door unlocked."

"What! And if he should come to--"

"Ah, I shan't send him word that it's unlocked, dear," scoffed Ruth, finding a malicious enjoyment in her aunt's dismay. "Good-night. Sleep tight! We must sleep while we have the opportunity, you know. Our lazy days will soon be over. He says we've all got to work like,--I think he said dogs."

"Oh, dear me. I,--I wonder what is to become of us?" moaned the wretched lady. "After what he tried to do to Abel Landover, there is no telling to what lengths he may go in--By the way, has Mr. Landover reported to Captain Trigger that the fellow attempted to shoot him this morning?"

"Of course not, Aunt Julia."

"Well, I think it is his duty to do so. Captain Trigger should take drastic means to curb this--"

"You forget that Mr. Landover maintains that Captain Trigger and all the other officers are like putty in the hands of Mr. Percival. I am beginning to believe it myself. He--he has got them all hypnotized."

"He hasn't got me hypnotized!" exclaimed Mrs. Spofford.

"In any case, he is in the saddle," sighed Ruth.

"He deliberately tried to kill Mr. Landover," said the other. "Is nothing to be done about it? We heard the shot,--every one heard it. And no one has the courage to say a word about it! What a lot of cowards we are! I don't see why he refuses to let me take the matter up with the Captain. Captain Trigger ought to know the truth."

Ruth was silent for a moment or two. "It's hard for me to believe, Aunt Julia, that he would attack a defenceless man with a revolver. It--it doesn't seem like him."

"But you have Abel Landover's word for it, Ruth. The bullet grazed his head. The coward would have killed him most certainly if he had not succeeded in knocking the pistol out of his hand and overpowering him."

"If I did not believe Mr. Landover to be an absolutely truthful, honourable man, I--" began Ruth, a little furrow between her eyebrows, "well, I might still believe a little in Mr. Percival."

"And what chance had poor Landover with that highwayman, or whatever he is, pointing a revolver at him through the porthole and threatening to blow his brains out if he did not throw up his hands and let Percival alone?"

Olga Obosky bandaged Percival's hand. She intercepted him on his way to Dr. Cullen's cabin.

CHAPTER III.

During the days and weeks that followed, Percival maintained an att.i.tude of rigid but courteous aloofness. Only on occasions when it was necessary to consult with Ruth and her aunt on matters pertaining to the "order of the day" did he relax in the slightest degree from the position he had taken in regard to them.

In time, the captious Mrs. Spofford began to resent this studied indifference. She detested him more than ever for not running true to the form she had predicted; her apprehensiveness gave way to irritation.

She resented his dignified, pleasant "good mornings"; she complained acidly to Ruth about what she was now pleased to describe as "disgusting superciliousness."

The truth of the matter was, he failed to take any account whatsoever of Mrs. Spofford in his calculations; he did not even make a pretence of consulting her in matters relating to the common good of the common people, and as she was in the habit of devoting a considerable portion of her time, energy and executive ability to the interests of the common or lower cla.s.s people, the omission was an insult.

Nor was his cause benefited by the unnecessary and uncalled for deference he seemed to feel was due her on account of her age. What had her age to do with it? No one had ever deferred to her age in New York?

She was one to be reckoned with, she was accustomed to the deference that hasn't anything at all to do with age. And here she was, shunted to one side, ignored, disregarded,--she who had been the brains and inspiration of a dozen charitable enterprises, to say nothing of war-work and very important activities in opposition to Woman Suffrage!

She found little consolation in Landover's contention that the upstart was bound to hang himself if they gave him rope enough, or in Ruth's patient reminder that Percival was getting results,--and getting them without bullying anybody.

Ruth accepted the situation with a calmness that exasperated her aunt.