rank which Whitaker had mentioned, and took the wheel as
the boat swung droning away from the dock. Not until she had once or
twice advanced the spark and made other minor adjustments, did she
return attention to her passenger.

Then, in a casual voice, she inquired: "You've been out of the country
for some time, I think you said?"

"Almost six years on the other side of the world--got back only last
spring."

"What," she asked, eyes averted, spying out the channel--"what does one
do on the other side of the world?"

"This one knocked about, mostly, for his health's sake. That is, I went
away expecting to die before long, was disappointed, got well and strong
and--took to drifting.... I beg your pardon," he broke off hastily; "a
civil answer to a civil question needn't necessarily be the history of
one's life."

The girl put the wheel down slowly, swinging the boat upon a course
direct to the landing-stage at Half-a-loaf Lodge.

"But surely you didn't waste six years simply 'drifting'?"

"Well, I did drift into a sort of business, after a bit--gold mining in
a haphazard, happy-go-lucky fashion--did pretty well at it and came home
to astonish the natives."

"Was it a success?"

"Rather," he replied dryly.

"I meant your plan to astonish the natives."

"So did I."

"You find things--New York--disappointing?" she analyzed his tone.

"I find it overpowering--and lonely. Nobody sent a brass band to greet
me at the dock; and all the people I used to know are either married and
devoted to brats, or divorced and devoted to bridge; and my game has
gone off so badly in six years that I don't belong any more."

She smiled, shaping her scarlet lips deliciously. The soft, warm wind
whipped stray strands of hair, like cords of gold, about her face. Her
eyelids were half lowered against the intolerable splendour of the day.
The waters of the bay, wind-blurred and dark, seemed a shield of
sapphire fashioned by nature solely to set off in clear relief her
ardent loveliness.

Whitaker, noting how swiftly the mainland shores were disclosing the
finer details of their beauty, could have wished the bay ten times as
wide.

XII

THE MOUSE-TRAP

Late in the afternoon of the same day, Ember, appearing suddenly in
front of the bungalow, discovered Whitaker sitting up in state; a
comfortable wicker chair supported his body and a canvas-seated camp
stool one of his feet; which last was discreetly veiled in a drippi