"Why, I can't make it more than three times in ten
years. But I can remember every time that I ever saw Mrs. B."
"So can I--an' I've only been to Auckland twice--how she stood an' what
she was sayin' an' what she looked like. That's the secret. 'Tisn't
beauty, so to speak, nor good talk necessarily. It's just It. Some
women'll stay in a man's memory if they once walked down a street, but
most of 'em you can live with a month on end, an' next commission you'd be
put to it to certify whether they talked in their sleep or not, as one
might say."
"Ah," said Hooper. "That's more the idea. I've known just two women of
that nature."
"An' it was no fault o' theirs?" asked Pritchard.
"None whatever. I know that!"
"An' if a man gets struck with that kind o' woman, Mr. Hooper?" Pritchard
went on.
"He goes crazy--or just saves himself," was the slow answer.
"You've hit it," said the Sergeant. "You've seen an' known somethin' in
the course o' your life, Mr. Hooper. I'm lookin' at you!" He set down his
bottle.
"And how often had Vickery seen her?" I asked.
"That's the dark an' bloody mystery," Pyecroft answered. "I'd never come
across him till I come out in the _Hierophant_ just now, an' there wasn't
any one in the ship who knew much about him. You see, he was what you call
a superior man. 'E spoke to me once or twice about Auckland and Mrs. B. on
the voyage out. I called that to mind subsequently.
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