The soul of it was gone, and the old thrill was dead.

He felt the tragedy of it, and his lips tightened even as he met the other's smile, for he no longer made an effort to blind himself to the truth.
Olaf began to guess deeply at that truth, now that he could see Alan's face in the pitiless light of the day, and after a little the thing lay naked in his mind.

The quest was not a matter of duty, nor was it inspired by the captain of the _Nome_, as Alan had given him reason to believe.

There was more than grimness in the other's face, and a strange sort of sickness lay in his eyes.

A little later he observed the straining eagerness with which those eyes scanned the softly undulating surface of the sea.
At last he said, "If Captain Rifle was right, the girl went overboard _out there_," and he pointed.
Alan stood up.
"But she wouldn't be there now," Olaf added.
In his heart he believed she was, straight down--at the bottom.