But he had slipped away silently, and was standing at the stern of the yacht, speaking softly to an Englishman. The light of a near lantern would have shown anyone who knew him that the man was Harry Pentreddle, and he was just getting ready to lower himself by a rope into a rowing boat, which was fastened alongside. "You can get ashore in that," whispered Akira softly; "and, later, I shall send the launch to fetch you." "I can row back again," protested Pentreddle. "You won't be able to get away quick enough," said Akira mysteriously. "Away from what?" "Never mind. Do what I told you to do, and bring me what I told you to bring me. Obey my instructions implicitly, or there may be danger." "But I don't understand, sir." "You understand enough for my purpose," broke in the Japanese smooth voice; "and you know why I ask you to go ashore to the Hall to-night." "Yes, I know," said Harry grimly, and spat on his hands as he prepared to grasp the rope. "You needn't go unless you like. I can go myself. Well?" For answer Pentreddle clambered over the taffrail and swung himself by the rope into the small craft below. As he took the oars, Akira's voice was heard again even softer than before as he leaned over the side. "The launch will be waiting for you at the pier when you come out," he said. "Lose no time." The boat shot away into the gloom, while Harry Pentreddle wondered why the little man was so insistent about his getting away quickly from the Hall, after what had to be done was accomplished. However, the sailor being aware of certain facts, was prepared to obey implicitly, and rowed hard to reach the land. There was no time to be lost, as the entertainment would not last for ever, and it was necessary that Harry should come back to _The Miko_ before those on board returned to Beckleigh Hall. It was a calm night, but cloudy and threatening. The rain of the last few weeks had stopped, and fine weather prevailed. But no stars were visible, and the moon was veiled heavily. As Pentreddle beached his boat near the pier, and dug her anchor into the damp sand, he felt a breath of wind, and looked into the semi-gloom to see that already white crests were forming on the waves. Afar off, _The Miko_ looked like a fairy ship with her coloured lights glittering against the darkness. The wind was distinctly rising, as Pentreddle felt when he passed up the path to the Hall, and on glancing overhead he noted that the clouds were beginning to move. Already a few stars were revealed, and there was an occasional glimpse of a haggard moon lying on her back. "It's going to be a nasty night," said the sailor. "Bad for those folk on board that yacht. They'll be sea-sick."