At this Martin flushed angrily and took a step toward the man who had addressed him with so much confidence.
Then his face changed, his eyes dilated, his hands fell nervelessly by his side. Fear took the place of anger.
"You are—it can't be," he gasped, staring into the face of the man before him.
"You remember me, I see," replied the other, coolly. "They call me Shaky; but you are right."
"Does Captain Dilke know who you are?" asked Martin, whose bearing was now one of abject humility.
"Not yet; but he will know soon enough. Just at present he is in a somewhat uncomfortable predicament. The last I saw of him, your wife and Sandy were dragging him down into the cabin of the Swan."
At this Martin's face turned fairly livid.
"Is Judith on board?" he gasped. "I'll do anything you say, only be merciful. It was so many years ago, and I have been sorry for it a thousand times."
"I see you are quite repentant now," smiled the man, whom we will still call Shaky. "Here comes your wife now. We had a long tramp through from your home to Whiting, though she stood the journey as well as any of us."
Martin looked up and saw Judith coming toward him, and he stood like a guilty boy expecting the punishment which he knows he richly merits.