"And so you came," he finished gravely as she paused. "I do not understand, Miss Helmuth, as I told you before, but I am just as glad as you are to leave that place behind."
"I'm—I'm not glad," she faltered, looking away from him, and he could see that her eyelids were closing and unclosing rapidly, as if to quench tears that welled forth. "It was my father's dream—I——"
He leaned forward to throw off the motor, but she recognized his intention and checked his hand swiftly.
"No, no—you misunderstand, Mr. Hammer! Please, let me think a moment! I'll try to tell you——"
"No, please don't tell me anything that distresses you, Miss Helmuth. I am very sorry that circumstances brought us together in the way they did, but everything's coming all right now, so don't worry. This boat isn't very fast, but we ought to pick up the Melindi light an hour after dark at furthest."
"What do you intend to do with Adolf Jenson, Mr. Hammer?" She turned and faced him, and now her brown eyes seemed very determined once more with the passing of her momentary weakness.
So Hammer told her the story of how Hans Schlak had died unavenged, and of necessity began at the beginning with John Solomon's arrival at "Prince's" in search of a job.
She listened with grave intentness, only smiling once, when he told about that hurried trip to the departing Mombasa at London, then sitting and watching his face. Hammer himself could give but a divided interest to the story, since he had to tell it and watch the coast at the same time, until it occurred to him to order Baumgardner to handle the yacht from the wheel forward.
He also ordered Mohammed to break out the chop-boxes and dish up as good a meal for all as their contents would afford. Then, leaning back, he filled his pipe and finished his story.
"Certainly, smoke all you want to," she smiled at his inquiring look. "Have you always been a sailor, Mr. Hammer?"