Weakly, with drooping spirits, Elaine retreated through an open door, still watching, in hopes he would turn and call her back. Then, stoutly suppressing her choking and pent emotions, she fled to the dismal comfort of her stateroom, and, falling face downward in her narrow berth, surrendered to the vast relief of sobbing. CHAPTER XLVII A FRIEND IN NEED That one more shock of surprise could overtake the returning castaways before the final landing could be accomplished would have seemed incredible to either Grenville or Elaine--and yet it came. They had spent a number of wretched days--days far more miserable and hope-destroying than any their dire experience had brought into being, as the mere result of that final scene enacted in the moonlight by the rail. The steamer had touched in the night at some unimportant, outlying port of call to which no one had paid the tribute of interest usual on the sea. A single male passenger had boarded. The man was Gerald Fenton. The message dispatched from Colombo had fetched him, post haste, to this midway ground for the meeting. But the meeting occurred in a manner wholly unexpected. Like the wholly considerate gentleman he was, Fenton had made all preparations for removing the startling elements from the fact of his presence on the boat. Like so many of life's little schemings, however, the plans went all "aglee." Elaine not only did not linger in her stateroom in the morning late enough to receive his note from the stewardess, but, when she hastened up to the topmost deck for her early morning exercise before the more lazy should appear, she literally ran into Fenton's arms at the head of the narrow stairs. Her surprise could hardly have been greater. She recoiled from the contact automatically, before she had time to see who it was with whom she had collided. Then a note of astonishment broke from her lips as she halted, leadenly. "Why--Gerald!" she managed to stammer, without the slightest hint of gladness in her tone. "Here?" "Well, little girl!" he answered, smilingly; and, coming to her in his quiet way, he took her hands to greet her with a kiss. A note of uncertainty forced itself to audible expression as she slightly retreated from his proffered caress and received it on her cheek. "Well! well!" Fenton continued, "you're certainly fit--and brown! You couldn't have had the note I sent to break the news. I tried to give you warning." "No," she said, constrainedly, "I've had no word. How did you get here--come aboard? I don't see how---- It took me so by surprise." "I'm sorry," he said, his smile losing something of its brightness. "I boarded at midnight, when the steamer touched at Fargo. When I got Sid's wholly incredible wire that you were both safe and well and coming home---- But how is the good old rascal?" Elaine's constraint increased. "Quite well, I believe--as far as I know." "Isn't he with you, here on the boat, going home?"