"Well," said Miss Trevor, with a nod of finality, "I was actually about to make such a disclosure. But I see it would be useless." I confess she aroused my curiosity. No coaxing, however, would induce her to interpret. "No," she insisted strangely, "if you cannot put two and two together, I fear I cannot help you. And no one I ever heard of has come to any good by meddling." Miss Trevor folded her hands across her lap. She wore that air which I am led to believe is common to all women who have something of importance to disclose; or at least what they consider is of importance. There was an element of pity, too, in her expression. For she had given me my chance, and my wits had been found wanting. Do not let it be surmised that I attach any great value to such banter as she had been indulging in. At the same time, however, I had an uneasy feeling that I had missed something which might have been to my advantage. It was in vain that I whipped my dull senses; but one conclusion was indicated by all this inference, and I don't care even to mention that: it was preposterous. Then Miss Trevor shifted to a very serious mood. She honestly did her best to persuade me to relinquish our enterprise, to go to Mr. Cooke and confess the whole thing. "I wish we had washed our hands of this Celebrity from the first," she said, with a sigh. "How dreadful if you lose your position on account of this foolishness!" "But I shan't," I answered reassuringly; "we are getting near the border now, and no sign of trouble. And besides," I added, "I think Miss Thorn tried to frighten me. And she very nearly succeeded. It was prettily done." "Of course she tried to frighten you. I wish she had succeeded." "But her object was transparent." "Her object!" she exclaimed. "Her object was to save you." "I think not," I replied; "it was to save the Celebrity." Miss Trevor rose and grasped one of the sail rings to keep her balance. She looked at me pityingly. "Do you really believe that?" "Firmly." "Then you are hopeless, Mr. Crocker, totally hopeless. I give you up." And she went back to her seat beside the refrigerator. CHAPTER XVII "Crocker, old man, Crocker, what the devil does that mean?" I turned with a start to perceive a bare head thrust above the cabin roof, the scant hair flying, and two large, brown eyes staring into mine full of alarm and reproach. A plump finger was pointing to where the sandy reef lay far astern of us. The Mackinaws were flecked far and wide over the lake, and a dirty smudge on the blue showed where the Far Harbor and Beaverton boat had gone over the horizon. But there, over the point and dangerously close to the land, hung another smudge, gradually pushing its way like a writhing, black serpent, lakewards. Thus I was rudely jerked back to face the problem with which we had left the island that morning.