Faith went down into the main cabin, crossed and entered the cabin
across the stern, turned there to await her husband. He followed her
slowly; he came in, and shut the door behind him. The man was
controlling himself; nevertheless, he thrust this door shut with a force
that shook the thin partition between the cabins.... And he snapped the
bolt that held it closed.
Then he turned and looked at Faith. There was a furious strength in his
countenance at that moment; but it was like the strength of a maniac.
His lips twitched tensely; his eyes moved like the eyes of a man who is
dizzy from too much turning on his own heels.... They jerked away from
Faith, returned to her, jerked away again.... All without any movement
of Noll's head. And as the man's eyes wavered and wrenched back to her
thus, the pupils contracted and narrowed in an effort to focus upon her.
For the rest, he was flushed, brick red.... His whole face seemed to
swell.
He was inhuman; there was an ape-like and animal fury in the man as he
looked at his wife....
Abruptly, he jerked up his hands and pressed them against his face and
turned away; it was as though he thrust himself away with this pressure
of his hands. He turned his back on her, and went to his desk, and
unlocked a drawer. Faith knew the drawer; she was not surprised when he
drew out of it a revolver.
Bending over the desk, with this weapon in his hand, Noll Wing made sure
every chamber was loaded.... He paid her no attention. Faith watched him
for an instant; then she turned to the bench that ran across the stern
and picked up from it a bit of sewing, embroidery.... She sat down
composedly on the bench, crossed her knees in the comfortable attitude
of relaxation which women like to assume. One foot rested on the floor;
the other swayed back and forth, as though beating time, a few inches
above the floor. It is impossible for the average man to cross his knees
in this fashion, just as it is impossible for a woman to throw a ball.
Sitting thus, Faith began to sew. She was outlining the petal of an
embroidered flower; and she gave this work her whole attention.
She did not look up at Noll. The man finished his examination of the
weapon; he turned it in his hand; he lifted it and leveled it at Faith.
Still Faith did not look up; she seemed completely unconcerned. Noll
said harshly:
"Faith!"
She looked up then, met his eyes fairly, smiled a little. "What is it,
Noll?"
"I'm going to kill you," he said, with stiff lips.
"All right," she said, and bent her head above her sewing once more,
disregarding him.
Noll was stupefied.... This was not surprise; it was the helplessness
which courage inspires in a coward. For Noll was a coward in those last
days.... His face twisted; his hand was shaking.... He stared over the
revolver barrel at Faith's brown head. Her hair was parted in the
middle, drawn back about her face. The white line of skin where the hair
was parted fascinated him; he could not take his eyes from it. The
revolver muzzle lowered without his being conscious of this fact; the
weapon hung in his hand.... His eyes were fixed on Faith's head, on the
part in her hair.... She wore an old, tortoise comb, stuck downward into
the hair at the back of her head, its top projecting upward.... A
singular, old-fashioned little ornament.... There was a silver mounting
on it; and the light glistened on this silver, and caught Noll's eye,
and held it....
Faith continued her quiet sewing. And Noll's tense muscles, little by
little, relaxed.... His fingers loosed their grip on the revolver butt;
it dropped to the floor with a clatter. The sound seemed to rouse Noll;
he strode toward Faith. "By God," he cried. "You'll...." He swung down a
hand and gathered the fabric of her work between harsh fingers. Her
needle was in the midst of a stitch; it pricked him.... He did not feel
the tiny wound. He would have snatched the stuff out of her hands.... He
felt as though it were defending her....
But when his hand swept down between hers and caught the bit of
embroidery, Faith looked up at him again, and she caught his eyes. That
halted him; he stood for an instant motionless, bending above her, their
faces not six inches apart.... Then the man jerked his hand away.... He
released his grip on the bit of fancy work; but the needle was deep in
his finger, so that he pulled it out of the cloth. The thread followed
it; when his quick movement drew the thread to full length, the fabric
was jerked out of Faith's unresisting hands. It dangled by the thread
from the needle that stuck in Noll's finger; and he saw it, and jerked
the needle out with a quick, spasmodic gesture, and flung it to one
side. He did not look at it; he was looking, still, at Faith.
"Put that away," he said hoarsely.
Faith smiled, glanced toward the bit of white upon the floor. "I'm
afraid there's blood on it," she said.
"Blood ..." he repeated, under his breath. "Blood...." She folded her
hands quietly upon her knee, waiting.
"I want to talk to you," he said.