The Tempter's Voice



the yacht. It was a difficult and dangerous task.
The weight of Bivens's inert form drove his boots deep
into the mud, and the wind's gusts of increasing fury
threatened at almost every step to hurl them down.
Again and again the waves broke on his face and sub-
merged them both. Bivens had ceased to move or
make a sound. Stuart couldn't tell whether he had
been strangled by the freezing water or choked into
silence by his helpless rage.
  At last he struggled up the gangway, tore the cabin
door open, staggered down the steps into the warm,
bright saloon, and fell in a faint at Nan's feet.
  The doctor came in answer to her scream and lifted
Bivens to his stateroom, while Nan bent low over the
prostrate form, holding his hand to her breast in a close,
agonizing clasp, while she whispered:
  "Jim, speak to me! You can't die yet, we haven't
lived! "
  He sighed and gasped:
  "Is he alive"
  "Yes, in his stateroom there, cursing you with every
breath."
  The young lawyer closed his eyes, blinded with tears,
murmuring over and over again:
  "Thank God!-Thank God!"



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