When he was given the telegram he flew to the Praya, engaged the fast motorboat he had previously bespoken against the need, and started for the Macao Passage, with the vague hope of speaking The Tigress. He had found her by the same agency her father had: native talk, which flew from isle to isle as fast as proas could carry it. He sat up in his chair again, the colour came back to his cheeks. "His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. "Don't stir," replied Jack. “Please come home.
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