“Curse Mattel and his prowling on shore,” he added, biting his mustache. But the girl he had been willing to marry for her money--and something else--had suddenly grown desirable to him since another man had found her fair. She would be hard to get, too, judging from the way she had slipped from him to Heriot--and nothing but the unattainable was ever coveted by Raimond Erle. If Andria had not been too faithful he might have been at her feet still. “If it hadn’t been for Mattel,” said Erceldonne practically, “we’d never have known there was a man on the island. If Heriot kissed the girl he would have married her.” The past conditional came curiously, but to the listener it sounded natural enough. “For God’s sake, wash your face!” he said, with womanish disgust, or perhaps because it was not so long since he had cleansed a like red stain from his hands. “And throw away the water. Mattel might think things if he saw it was bloody. He didn’t follow us, I suppose!” “Mattel is a Maltese thief, who daren’t think or do anything,” but he was careful enough to follow his son’s advice. “No one knows anything but you and me,” and his hand grew unsteady again as he thought of the awful danger he had dared last night for the sake of Raimond--Raimond and Erceldonne. Beryl Corselas had builded worse than she knew when she had bidden the madman and his dreadful servants to keep far away on the night of all nights when they might have defended her. But all Erceldonne had thought was that luck was on his side still. “I suppose there’s no reason to stay on here,” said Erle, with a glance of loathing out the port-hole. “I’ll do what I can with the girl and we’ll take her and the governess off to-night. I can make love to her, if I must, at sea.” Erceldonne nodded. He was himself again. No one would have known him for the man of two hours before. “The sooner the better,” he returned briefly. “Before they have time to wonder why he doesn’t come back.” “Let him alone!” cried Raimond, with that black rage again. “If you keep harping on him I’ll chuck the whole thing. I don’t care a damn for the succession, it’s only the money--and that won’t make me stand your conversation!” “Then you’d better tell the girl so,” said Erceldonne dryly. “Do you suppose she is going to avoid the subject?” “I know it. She thinks we don’t know anything about him,” replied Raimond grimly. “She won’t dare give herself away. And once married to her----” he laughed, and Andria might have known why.