“Yes, I understand Bernie’s been calling himself Snaith. Well, it’s his middle name—was his poor mother’s. Bernard Snaith Redfern—that’s him. And now, Miss, you can tell me how to get over to that island? Nobody seems to be home there. I’ve done some waving and yelling. Henry, there, wouldn’t yell. He’s a one-job man. But old Doc Redfern can yell with the best of them yet, and ain’t above doing it. Raised nothing but a couple of crows. Guess Bernie’s out for the day.” “He was away when I left this morning,” said Valancy. “I suppose he hasn’t come home yet.” She spoke flatly and tonelessly. This last shock had temporarily bereft her of whatever little power of reasoning had been left her by Dr. Trent’s revelation. In the back of her mind the aforesaid little imp was jeeringly repeating a silly old proverb, “It never rains but it pours.” But she was not trying to think. What was the use? Dr. Redfern was gazing at her in perplexity. “When you left this morning? Do you live—over there?” He waved his diamond at the Blue Castle. “Of course,” said Valancy stupidly. “I’m his wife.” Dr. Redfern took out a yellow silk handkerchief, removed his hat and mopped his brow. He was very bald, and Valancy’s imp whispered, “Why be bald? Why lose your manly beauty? Try Redfern’s Hair Vigor. It keeps you young.” “Excuse me,” said Dr. Redfern. “This is a bit of a shock.” “Shocks seem to be in the air this morning.” The imp said this out loud before Valancy could prevent it. “I didn’t know Bernie was—married. I didn’t think he _would_ have got married without telling his old dad.” Were Dr. Redfern’s eyes misty? Amid her own dull ache of misery and fear and dread, Valancy felt a pang of pity for him. “Don’t blame him,” she said hurriedly. “It—it wasn’t his fault. It—was all my doing.” “You didn’t ask him to marry you, I suppose,” twinkled Dr. Redfern. “He might have let me know. I’d have got acquainted with my daughter-in-law before this if he had. But I’m glad to meet you now, my dear—very glad. You look like a sensible young woman. I used to sorter fear Barney’d pick out some pretty bit of fluff just because she was good-looking. They were all after him, of course. Wanted his money? Eh? Didn’t like the pills and the bitters but liked the dollars. Eh? Wanted to dip their pretty little fingers in old Doc’s millions. Eh?” “Millions!” said Valancy faintly. She wished she could sit down somewhere—she wished she could have a chance to think—she wished she and the Blue Castle could sink to the bottom of Mistawis and vanish from human sight forevermore.