"Don't let him get you into trouble," she whispered, between her closed lips. "I heard him threaten you at St. Croix. Oh, how did he get here!" She referred, of course, to Edgerly. CHAPTER XX. NEW WORK FOR MY TYPEWRITER. It was plain that these two men had become closer friends than they appeared to be when on the Madiana. Wesson's pretence of regard for me did not sort with this affiliation with a fellow against whom he had been at such pains to warn me. They both seemed disconcerted at our meeting and I learned later that they had decided to stop at different houses. Edgerly registered at the Sea View, a small hotel situated about a quarter mile from the Marine, while Wesson came boldly to the latter hostelry and took a room there. However, as I did not own the house, I was not at liberty to prevent him living where he liked. I made up my mind to avoid him and let it go at that. It began to be apparent that his movements were influenced in a large degree by my own. I wondered if he meant to dog me from island to island during the rest of my journey. On the day following my arrival I began to dictate to Miss May the novel of which I had spoken, or rather a correct transcript of the proceedings that had brought me where I was. You already know the story, and if you care to read it again you have only to turn to the first chapter of this volume and begin at the point where she did. It took me the whole of that forenoon to finish the opening instalment, as I wanted to put it into a shape that would not necessitate its being re-written. Miss May proved a splendid amanuensis and, as requested, made no comments till the lunch hour arrived, though I could not help seeing that she was filled with interest as well as vivid curiosity. When I began to allude to Statia and to detail her conversations with me, my typewriter's face was at times suffused with pink. I fancied, when I came to the place where I asked Statia to be my wife, that Marjorie was about to refuse to continue, but she merely drew a very long breath and let her nimble fingers touch the requisite keys. When Tom's sister declined my offer I heard a light sigh that I took to mean relief. The tale of my visit to the Herald office and of writing the advertisement clearly interested her. She wrote rapidly when I told about the handsome woman who wished the acquaintance of an elderly gentleman, on whom to lavish her beautiful face and form, with her "object matrimony." When I said we would let that chapter suffice for the day she sat back from the table and uttered an uneasy little laugh. "It's not so bad," she was kind enough to say. "I may have to change my mind about your project. But are you going on as you have begun, exposing every thought--making the world your confidant. I am afraid few people could afford to do that."