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180 sitting at the window and watching him in silence, felt an obsession of unreality.

Toward nine o'clock Lee roused himself, and looked about.

"Say, mate, I'm a-goin' to turn in. I 'll take this here room on the lower deck, I guess. Hullo, it's locked. Where's the key?" And he shook the door.

"Never you mind," said his brother, with a calmness he did not feel. "That's closed for good, and you 'll sleep in the loft,—whichever room you want."

"Humph!" grunted the sailor. "You 're free with yer orders, ain't ye?"

Marden looked so dangerous, however, that he said no more, but took the lamp in one hand and grappled the canvas bag in the other.

"It's a pretty poor sort o' home-comin'," he growled, kicking the little deal door open, and standing at the foot of the stair with his pirate face shining brown and evil in the lamplight. "It's a pretty poor sort o' homecomin', to find yer old woman gone an' yer brother turned into a teetotal parson. That's what I say."