CHAPTER III

Following the departure of the Customs tug, Gaston of the Beard had sat below in earnest converse with Tamea. The Triton had wept a little at first, albeit his tears were not for himself but for Tamea; and after her initial gust of despair and grief, the girl had remembered that strength and not weakness was what her father expected of her. Accordingly she had rallied to the task of comforting him. “And you knew I had contracted this disease, my daughter?” old Gaston queried amazedly. “_Oui, mon père._ I saw the pu…