“Told you what?” cried Andria. Heriot, with that open door in front of him dared not speak. “Little miss is gone out. Dat man, de tall one, wid de marks o’ de devil’s claws round his eyes, he come back for her. He said you was waiting for her down at de shore, you was both going to dinner on de yacht. An’ she’s went wid him, after last night. Dey’ll be et.” Heriot let out an astonished oath. If it had not been for that stupid lie about the governess and his private knowledge, it might have seemed natural enough that Beryl should dine on the yacht. But Andria’s wits were quicker, and she knew Raimond Erle. He had been bored with his father’s society, and must have come straight back by the short cut. The girl was handsome. Even without getting her on board the _Flores_, a starlight walk with her would pass the time. That lie about the governess had been told when she refused to go with him; it was the first thing he would think of. She knew how obstinate he was about anything he might take in his head. He knew nothing about the dangers of the island; if he did, recklessness and a revolver would make him laugh at them. A beautiful girl, whom he must make love to for reasons he had seen fit to exclaim at; a night warm and silent, heavy with flower scents, the soft stars ablaze in the sky!--his discarded wife clenched her teeth. Not anything on earth would have balked Raimond of his evening walk. “But I will!” she cried to herself, wild and bitter in her rebellion. “I, that he shamed and turned out,” she fumbled blindly on a table in the dark. “I must go,” she said, with something cold and dreadful in her voice that Salome took for fear, like her own. “If he said I was at the shore, I’ll be there. There will be time by the short cut.” “Oh, don’t you do it! You won’t do no good,” cried the black woman. “Mr. Egerton he’ll take care of little miss--if ever she gets to de boat!” “He’ll take such care of her that she’ll never come back,” Andria muttered. Yet it was not fear for the girl that was in her heart, but the jealousy that is more cruel than the grave. No one knew as she did what Raimond could be when he chose. She did not believe for one instant that any girl could resist him. She was past Heriot like a flash, regardless of anything but those two walking down to the shore in the scented night, under the gorgeous stars--a man and a maid. “Hold on!” Heriot was at her side. “Did you think I wasn’t coming? Though I don’t see what good either of us can do if she’s gone on board the yacht. What’s that?” His hand, swinging against hers as they walked, had touched something cold and sharp. Before she knew what she was doing it was in his grasp, not hers. In the starlight he saw what it was.