"Do you know what you are rendering yourself liable to, sir, by detaining us at all?" he demanded. "An action--" Captain Andrius bowed again; again assumed his deprecating smile. He waved the two men to seats and himself took a chair with his back to the door by which he entered. "My dear sir!" he said courteously. "You forget that I am but a servant. I am under orders. However, I give my word that no harm shall come to you, that you shall be treated with every polite attention, and that you shall be landed." "When--and where?" asked Vickers. "Tomorrow, certainly," replied Andrius. "As to where, I cannot exactly say. But--where you will be in touch with--shall we say civilization?" He showed a set of fine white teeth in such a curious fashion as he spoke the last word that Copplestone and Vickers instinctively glanced at each other, with a mutual instinct of distrust. "Won't do!" said Vickers. "I insist that you put about and go into Scarhaven again." Andrius spread out his open palms and shook his head "Impossible!" he answered. "We are already _en voyage_. Time presses. Be placable--tomorrow you shall be released." Vickers was about to answer this appeal with an angry refusal to be either placable or tractable, but he suddenly stopped the words which rose to his tongue. There was something in all this--some mystery, some queer game, and it might be worth while to find it out. "Where are you taking this yacht?" he demanded brusquely. "Come, now!" "I am under--orders," said Andrius, with another smile. "Whose orders?" persisted Vickers. "Look here--it's no use trying to burke facts. Who's on board this vessel? You know what I mean. Is the man who calls himself Squire of Scarhaven here?" Andrius shook his head quietly and gave his questioner a shrewd glance. "Mr. Vickers," he said meaningly, "I know you! You are a lawyer--though a young one. Lawyers are guarded in their speech. Now--we are alone--we four. No one can hear anything we say. Tell me--is that right what you said to me on deck, that the man who has called himself Marston Greyle is not so at all?" "Absolutely right," replied Vickers. "An impostor?" demanded Andrius. "He is!" "And never had any right to--anything?" "No right whatever!" "Then," said Andrius, with a polite inclination of his head and shoulders to Audrey, "the truth is that everything of the Scarhaven property belongs to this lady?" "Everything!" exclaimed Vickers. "Land, houses, furniture, valuables--everything. All the property which you have on this yacht--pictures, china, silver, books, objects of art, as I am instructed, removed from the house--are Miss Greyle's sole property. Once more I warn you of what you are doing, and I demand that you immediately return to Scarhaven. This very yacht belongs to Miss Greyle!" Andrius nodded, looked fixedly at the young solicitor for a moment, and then rose.