He saw the slim dark figure descend into the dinghy with a reckless spring, and the boat drifted away as he reached the counter. It was an odd, shadowy drama, played out in the thick haze of dawn from which the night darkness was gradually peeling. "Come back!" ordered Hughie with decision. The girl was putting the sculls into the rowlocks quite deliberately; she knew she was safe, or, let it more truly be said, thought she was safe. The boat was rocking softly on a smooth heave, and going shorewards all the time. The girl appeared to be surprised at Hughie, for she fingered the sculls in an uncertain manner while she gazed back at the small active figure poised on _Messenger’s_ graceful stern. "You will stay there now," she said, with an emphasis on the last word. She spoke rather low, but there was a triumphant ring in the tone. "Why?" asked Hughie, watching her, and rather attracted by her voice, because of the measured way of speaking. "Because I shall not fetch you." "How unkind!" said Hughie drily. The girl in the dinghy did not quite like his tone. She expected a complete surrender and an anxious appeal. She thought she heard a very low chuckle, which was odd. "You have no right to follow me," she said, playing with the oars; "it is very ill manners." "What about you trespassing?" retorted Hughie. "I suppose you know I can give you in charge. You may have stolen any amount." "How dare you!" this fiercely. "Stealing off yachts is awfully common, you know," went on Hughie; "that’s why people keep them locked. We don’t lock up the _Messenger_, because Bell Bay people are honest--I mean they always have been up till now." The girl appeared not to hear; she was looking over her shoulder towards the shore to which she was drifting. Her mind was turning over rapidly what course to adopt. Would it be wiser to take this child off and make friends with him, or to go home and leave the affair to chance? The latter impulse prevailed, solely because she was angry at being stopped in her intention, and the desire to vent her spite was very strong. She would leave him just as he was for the others to find, and they could think what they liked. She began to row; then stopped, for Hughie spoke again. "It’s awfully silly of you to take the boat, because then everybody knows," he commented. "Come back; what’s the good of being an idiot?" "You are a rude little child," said the Countess angrily. "Now I shall punish you; you shall stay there." Hughie laughed. Then, to her utter amazement, he made a clean dive from the counter, hands over head, heels up, cutting the water with hardly a splash, and presently came up only a couple of yards astern of the dinghy. Then he shook the water out of his eyes and said blandly: "I told you you were an idiot--now I think you are a full-sized one. You’d much better have come back when I told you."