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He knew why. She had told him. God, Destiny, Fate, had come between her and the man she loved. The man had lost more than life in playing the part of a man. He was blind! Behind him were only memories that could not be buried. Before him only darkness, bleakness, despair. And he had done an heroic thing in giving her up. Helpless, powerless to support her, what else was there for him to do? So, in his love for her, he had dug a grave and in it buried Hope and all that God in His wise ordinance had allowed him to live and feel. And they had kissed and parted, kneeling beside this grave, cold lips to cold lips, broken heart to broken heart. It was the kiss on the cross which each must carry. "I see," said Scroggie. Of course he didn't, but he wanted to make Billy feel that he did. "Then why didn't you tell Spencer? Don't you know them thieves will find out you've been there an' they'll hide that stuff in a new place, Harry?".

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The hearty old gentleman sighed, and his eyes reposed in thought upon the face of Lucy. "So things went along fer a few years. Then come a letter from England to Roger Stanhope. Frank read it to me. Seems they wanted Stanhope back home, if he was alive; if not they wanted his son to come. Frank didn't even answer that letter. He says to me, 'Mr. Keeler, this spot's good enough fer me.' An' by gosh! he stayed. After further endearments between this devoted father and his daughter, Captain Acton closed her cabin door and went on deck. "Not yourn? Then whose is it?" she cried in amazement..