She kept as much to herself as she could without rousing curiosity. She had to think and to be alone where she would focus her thoughts, hold them trained on what she knew and what might develop. She wanted to keep her mind on the main issue, inhibit any fruitless speculations, wait and be ready. Joe was on the island and with the guarded causeway would stay on the island till after they had gone. Her hope, giving her strength to go through the automatic actions of behavior, was, that suspicion not being directed to him, he could lie hidden till they left and then make his get-a-way. She knew that Gabriel had gone to White Beach for a week’s deep-sea fishing, and Gabriel was the one person besides herself who knew that Joe had not crossed to the mainland. They surely would be moved away before a week and if, during that time, the belief that he had gone remained unshaken, he was safe. So far she was confident that no suspicion had touched him. She did not see how it could. They were all satisfied that he had left, her answer to Rawson had been accepted in good faith. There would be no investigating of his movements for there would be no reason for doing it. He had passed outside the circle of the tragedy, was eliminated as the actors were who had gone on the earlier boat. If they didn’t find him! Where was he? He had entered the living-room by the door that led to the kitchen wing and rear staircase. That would look as if he was in the house. But she knew that no doors were locked on Gull Island and that he might have come from outside, choosing a passage through the darkened building rather than expose himself to the moonlight. If he was in the house he must be in the vacant top story and she was certain--every sound of heavy footsteps had been noted by her listening ears--that the men had not been there yet. That would argue that they felt no need of hurry. Were they taking things in a leisurely way because of their assurance that no one could escape, or were they so convinced they had their quarry that no further search was necessary? What conclusions were they coming to behind the closed doors of the library--had they fixed on some one of the party, the obvious ones, Flora or Stokes? She checked these disintegrating surmises, drew her mind back with a fierce tug of will. That would come later. If Joe got away she would tell, confess it all, go to jail. It didn’t matter, what happened then. Only what was here before her counted now. When the search of the island started she went up to the side of the gallery that skirted the line of windows. From there she could command the whole seaward sweep of its ten acres. She would be alone here, secure against intrusion; she could drop her mask, let her face show what it might, not watch from beneath her eyelids for the questioning looks she dreaded.