She put the plate on the red table-cloth, flanked it with dishes containing soft-boiled eggs, bread and butter and a pot of coffee of delicious savour, and waved one muscular arm over it all with the gesture of a benevolent sorceress. "Set to while it's hot, my dear, and don't you be afraid; good food never hurt nobody." Momentarily, Eleanor entertained the thought of mutinous refusal to eat, by way of lending emphasis to her indignation; but hunger overcame the attractions of this dubious expedient; and besides, if she were to accomplish anything toward regaining her freedom, if it were no more than to register a violent protest, she would need strength; and already she was weak for want of food. So she took her place and ate--ate ravenously, enjoying every mouthful--even though her mind was obsessed with doubts and fears and burning anger. "You are the caretaker here?" she asked as soon as her hunger was a little satisfied. "Reckon you might call us that, me and Eph; we've lived here for five years now, taking care of the island--ever since your pa bought it." "Eph is your husband?" "That's him--Ephraim Clover." "And--doesn't he do anything else but--caretake?" "Lord bless you, he don't even do that; I'm the caretaker_ess_. Eph don't do nothing but potter round with the motor-boat and go to town for supplies and fish a little and 'tend to the garden and do the chores and--" "I should think he must keep pretty busy." "Busy? Him? Eph? Lord! he's the busiest thing you ever laid your eyes on--poking round doing nothing at all." "And does nobody ever come here ...?" "Nobody but the boss." "Does he often--?" "That's as may be and the fit's on him. He comes and goes, just as he feels like. Sometimes he's on and off the island half a dozen times a week, and again we don't hear nothing of him for months; sometimes he just stops here for days and mebbe weeks, and again he's here one minute and gone the next. Jumps round like a flea on a griddle, _I_ say; you can't never tell nothing about what he's going to do or where he'll be next.... My land o' mercy, Mr. Searle! What a start you did give me!" The man had succeeded in startling both women, as a matter of fact. Eleanor, looking suddenly up from her plate on hearing Mrs. Clover's cry of surprise, saw him lounging carelessly in the hall doorway, where he had appeared as noiselessly as a shadow. His sly, satiric smile was twisting his thin lips, and a sardonic humour glittered in the pale eyes that shifted from Eleanor's face to Mrs. Clover's, and back again. "I wish," he said, nodding to the caretaker, "you'd slip down to the dock and tell Eph to have the boat ready by seven o'clock."