"A New York gentleman—a Mr. Donald Kayne."
"Wants to marry you, I s'pose?" with an angry, jealous frown.
"No, no, he hates me, but he wants to know a secret that I hold, and he swears he will never let me go free until I tell it; but—but I will never tell, never, not if I die here."
"Must be a very important secret," commented the sailor curiously.
And he saw a look of terror leap in the lovely eyes; but she answered carelessly:
"No, no, it is not much, only I will not tell it. I will tell no one. Oh, Jack Dineheart, have pity on me, and help me to escape, and I will make you rich."
"A likely story. When did you come into a fortune?" cried the sailor eagerly.
"No matter, but I am rich, and I will give you half my fortune, Jack, if you will do one little errand for me. Do you see that yacht that has just come into the harbor yonder? Look, you can just make out her name—Nita. Go there, Jack Dineheart, and tell the owner of the yacht that I was not drowned when the storm swept me with my maid from off the deck of the yacht. Tell him Donald Kayne lives, and that he saved my life and Lizette's, and that he is keeping us in prison here until I reveal a secret. Oh, go, go, go, I pray you, and do this errand, and my prison doors will fly open, and you shall be made rich, while my blessings shall follow you throughout your whole life."
She paused, panting and exhausted, her small upraised hands clasped in pathetic pleading. Jack Dineheart looked up at her with sullen curiosity.
"This man who is to open your prison doors—the owner of the yacht—what is his name?"