"Yes, sir," assented Mrs. Clover hastily. She crossed at once toward the outer door. From her tone and the alacrity with which she moved to do his bidding, no less than from the half-cringing look with which she met his regard, Eleanor had no difficulty in divining her abject fear of this man whom she could, apparently, have taken in her big hands and broken in two without being annoyed by his struggles. "And, here!" he called after her--"supper ready?" "Yes, sir--quite." "Very well; I'll have mine. Eph can come up as soon as he's finished overhauling the motor. Wait a minute; tell him to be sure to bring the oars up with him." "Yes, sir, I will, sir." Mrs. Clover dodged through the door and, running down the pair of steps from the kitchen stoop to the ground, vanished behind the house. "Enjoying your breakfast, I trust?" Eleanor pushed back her chair and rose. She feared him, feared him as she might have feared any loathly, venomous thing; but she was not in the least spiritually afraid of him. Contempt and disgust only emphasised the quality of her courage. She confronted him without a tremor. "Will you take me with you when you leave this island tonight?" she demanded. He shook his head with his derisive smile. She had discounted that answer. "How long do you mean to keep me here?" "That depends on how agreeable you make yourself," he said obscurely. "What do you mean?" "Merely that ... well, it's a pleasant, salubrious spot, Wreck Island. You'll find it uncommonly healthful and enjoyable, too, as soon as you get over the loneliness. Not that you'll be so terribly lonely; I shall be here more or less, off and on, much of the time for the next few weeks. I don't mind telling you, in strict confidence, as between father and child, that I'm planning to pull off something pretty big before long; of course it will need a bit of arranging in advance to make everything run smoothly, and this is ideal for a man of my retiring disposition, not overfond of the espionage of his fellow-men. So, if you're docile and affectionate, we may see a great deal of one another for some weeks--as I said." "And if not--?" "Well"--he waved his hands expressively--"of course, if you incline to be forward and disobedient, then I shall be obliged to deny you the light of my countenance, by way of punishment." She shook her head impatiently. "I want to know when you will let me go," she insisted, struggling against the oppression of her sense of helplessness. "I really can't say." He pretended politely to suppress a yawn, indicating that the subject bored him inordinately. "If I could trust you--" "Can you expect that, after the way you treated me last night--this morning?" "Ah, well!" he said, claw-like fingers stroking his lips to conceal his smile of mockery. "You lied to me, drugged me, robbed me of the necklace, brought me here...." "Guilty," he said, yawning openly.