Hermione bit her lip. Applebo slightly roused himself and reached for the blade of the oar which she extended to him. "Before I go," said Hermione, "would you mind telling me your real reason for following us about? I am not such a fool as to think that it was because of a sentimental attraction to one of us girls" ... she laughed ... "when you did not so much as know us apart. Was there any other reason?" Applebo's eyes narrowed. He gave her an intent look. "Why do you ask? Curiosity?" "No. Interest." "That is better. Well, then, I will tell you. I am only too glad to be able to tell you and to ask your advice. But if you are really enough interested to care to hear all about it, you are in for the story of my life." "I want to hear it," said Hermione, "but I haven't a great deal of time. When we hear the _Shark's_ bell, I will have to go." "Then I'll make it short," said Applebo. "Do you remember my telling you that day at Shoal Harbour that my mother was a cousin to the King of Sweden? She married a Norwegian boat-builder; a good enough man, of a very respectable family. Her family made an awful row about it, and tried to have the marriage annulled, for she was almost royalty. The two left Norway and went to America. They were not happy, and shortly after I was born they separated. My mother would not return to Norway, but lived in Brooklyn, supported by a small annuity she had from a brother. My father enlisted in the United States Navy." Hermione, listening, absorbed in this tale, let her eyes rest on the face of the narrator. She wondered that she had ever thought it feline and baffling. "When I was ten years old," said Applebo, "my mother died. An uncle of hers, named Applebo, who had come to America years before, made me his heir. He was an old man and died not long ago. I was sent to school, and afterwards to college. In the vacations I always went to sea, usually on sailing ships. It was on a ship that I met a man, the captain, who had known my father and who told me all about the affair, not knowing who I was. He told me that my father had left the Navy and was the sailing-master of a yacht, and that the yacht was the _Shark_." Hermione's oars dropped from her hands. She gripped the gunnel of her skiff. "Uncle Chris Heldstrom?" she gasped. Applebo nodded. "There seems to be no doubt that he is my father," he said, "although he too has taken a different name. There goes your oar...." He sprang to his feet, whipped a boat-hook from its slings, and rescued the oar.