"Let's follow them," said Copplestone. "Something's going to happen--if that is the _Pike_." "Look there, then," exclaimed Audrey as they began to descend the cliff. "Chatfield's already uneasy." She pointed to the beach below, where Chatfield, now fully overcoated and shawled again, had mounted a ridge of rock, and while gazing intently at the vessel, was exchanging remarks with Vickers, who had evidently said something which had alarmed him. They caught Chatfield's excited ejaculations as they hurried over the sand. "Don't say that, Mr. Vickers!" he was saying imploringly. "For God's sake, Mr. Vickers, don't suggest them there sort of thoughts. You make me feel right down poorly, Mr. Vickers, to say such! It's worse than a bad dream, Mr. Vickers--no, sir, no, surely you're mistaken!" "Bet you a fiver to a halfpenny it's the _Pike_," retorted Vickers. "I know her lines. Besides she's heading straight here. Copplestone!" he cried, turning to the advancing couple. "Do you know, I believe that's the _Pike!_" Copplestone gave Audrey's elbow a gentle squeeze. "Look at old Chatfield!" he whispered. "By gad!--look at him. Yes," he called out loudly, "We know it's the _Pike_--we saw that from the top of the cliffs. She's coming straight in." "Oh, yes, it's the _Pike_," exclaimed Audrey. "Aren't you delighted, Mr. Chatfield." The agent suddenly turned his big fat face towards the three young people, with such an expression of craven fear on it that the sardonic jest which Copplestone was about to voice died away on his lips. Chatfield's creased cheeks and heavy jowl had become white as chalk; great beads of sweat rolled down them; his mouth opened and shut silently, and suddenly, as he raised his hands and wrung them, his knees began to quiver. It was evident that the man was badly, terribly afraid--and as they watched him in amazed wonder his eyes began to search the shore and the cliffs as if he were some hunted animal seeking any hole or cranny in which to hide. A sudden swelling of the light wind brought the steady throb of the oncoming engines to his ears and he turned on Vickers with a look that made the onlookers start. "For goodness sake, Mr. Vickers!" he said in a queer, strained voice. "For heaven's sake, let's get ourselves away! Mr. Vickers--it ain't safe for none of us. We'd best to run, sir--let's get to the other side of the island. There's caves there--places--let's hide till something comes from the other islands, or till these folks goes away--I tell you it's dangerous for us to stop here!" "We're not afraid, Chatfield," replied Vickers. "What ails you! Why man, you couldn't be more afraid if you'd murdered somebody! What do you suppose these people want? You, of course. And you can't escape--if they want you, they'll search the island till they get you. You've been deceiving us, Chatfield--there's something you've kept back. Now, what is it? What have they come back for?"