It was understood that they were not to meet openly. But he knew, as he looked out at her from time to time, and saw her lying idly back under the patched awnings of the bridge-deck, apparently engrossed in a book, that she was quietly coöperating with him in keeping a watch of their common enemy.
The first-fruits of this quiet espionage was the disturbing sight of Ganley making his way to Captain Yandel's stateroom.
What took place there it was impossible to tell. All that Alicia could be sure of was that he remained for half an hour with the ship's master. For the past few days, she suspected, this thick-necked and bullock-minded officer had been more than ever under the influence of liquor. Alcohol, apparently, only served to crown his sullen taciturnity with an animal-like ferociousness when interfered with or even accosted. That silent and friendless man, she knew, was not one to be easily won over. He had neither the brains nor the ambition to disrupt the even tenor of his oxlike days by affiliations with anything so disquieting as a revolution-maker. He was not open to a gun-runner's negocio, or he would surely have played his hand earlier in the game.
Yet there was something terrifying to her in the mere fact that Ganley could remain closeted
