Page:MacGrath--The luck of the Irish.djvu/109

 women carried their jewels in. At the sight of him she gave a little gasp and thrust the bag into the bosom of her dress. She smiled almost at once; but William would have preferred a frown. Was there anything in that chamois bag she was afraid he might see? The haste with which she had striven to hide it was not normal.

She was only twenty-two. Youth ought to have no mysteries.

Dismissing these unpleasant cogitations, William strolled around to the starboard side. Leaning over the rail were his two ancients. For once they were not arguing. As there was space in between them, William shouldered in, smiling as usual. He was not above hectoring Greenwood, a flicker of the old-time gamin in his heart.

In his way William was growing fond of them both, for he could appreciate that these two lonely old men were heroes in their quiet, undemonstrative manner. One had gone into the very heart of China, in the days when such an exploit necessitated the taking of one's life in the hand. And for what? To verify a bit of Sanskrit, whatever that was! And the other had crossed the Himalayas into Tibet for the prayer-scroll and death-mask of a Lama! William was still in the dark as to what benefit, if any, humanity derived from such adventures; but he could readily grasp that these two played a great game where the skirts of death could always be heard rustling.

"This is the life!" he said.

"You like the sea?"