The arrival of Davis had in no way affected the situation as Roger had suddenly seen it just before Higgins' shot had attracted his attention. Garman had discovered that Annette was not at Payne's camp. Otherwise he would have returned to get her. And this discovery meant that he knew of her whereabouts and was taking steps to pursue her, to get her into his power again. Perhaps he had even succeeded in doing so. Roger slipped away from camp while supper was being prepared, and returned to the dugout which he had left in the big ditch near the river. Precious time had been lost through the arrival of Davis. Garman, for the nonce a jungle beast running wild with the reek of rage and lust about him, had had hours of opportunity to wreak his revenge. Roger leaped into the dugout and paddled down the river toward Garman's house. The place seemed dead and deserted as he stepped onto the dock, and his heart sank with dismay. The Egret was gone. XXXIII In the boathouse a young sailor was loading several huge trunks into a small launch. "Closing up for the season?" asked Roger as casually as possible. "I dunno what they're doing," grumbled the man. "Fine trick leaving one man to handle stuff like this." Roger lent a hand. "What did they do, forget this when they left?" he asked. "They did not!" grinned the sailor. "Mr. Garman didn't give them time to forget anything. He loaded 'em onto the Egret and shot 'em down the river without giving them time to forget anything." "He must have been in a hurry to get away?" Roger's words were calm, but the beat of his heart was shaking his ribs. "Who? Mr. Garman? He didn't sail. Just Senator Fairclothe and Mrs. Livingstone. 'Get aboard,' he says, and they got. 'Get to hell out of here!' he says to the captain. 'Where to?' says the captain. 'Get!' says Mr. Garman. Talk about a temper! There was blue lightning and an eighty-mile wind round here till they'd sailed." "Mr. Garman staying behind alone?" "Alone?" said the sailor with a colossal wink. "Oh, I guess not--not so you could notice it." And the next moment he found himself picked up, flung against the wall and nailed there by a grip that cut to the bone. "Talk straight now, boy, if you value whole bones," said Roger. "Is Miss Fairclothe here with Garman?" "Not here--nobody here but the cook and caretaker." "Where--then?" "Dunno." "Where!" "Mr. Garman rode away some place after the Egret had sailed." "Alone?" "Sure. She wasn't here at all." Roger went up to the big house. The caretaker, a pudgy little man with the stench of whisky on his breath, was waiting for him. "Mr. Payne?" "Yes." "A note for you, sir. Mr. Garman said he expected, sir, that you would be round." The note was addressed to Garman in a clear feminine hand, and it read: "Garman: Am at the cottage on Palm Island; come to-night. Annette." At the bottom in a huge masculine scrawl, were three words; "Poor Payne! Garman."