He repeated the operation, slowly and carefully. As each lath was split and pared, he passed it to his companion and she spliced the ends with strips of gray cloth. And these? Aylmer took them from the dead body at the end of the cloister. Miller, in death, was helping to repair some of the injuries for which his life was responsible. They worked methodically, without haste, but with every care. Two hours later they had a twelve-foot staff laid out at their feet. To the top they attached a little flag, also of gray. They divided it into halves, thrust the upper half into the pipe, attached the lower one to it, and then pushed the whole upwards to the full extent of Aylmer's reach. Claire peered anxiously into the hole. She gave a great cry of relief; her eyes filled with sudden tears. "The flag is outside!" she cried. "There is no doubt of that; it is a certainty. While it was wrapped round the head of the staff inside the tube, it hid all light from me. And now light has come again--dim, but there still. It slips down between the staff and the sides. The flag is out in the air--the air!" He nodded. "All that remains, then, is to keep it moving--to show that human beings are holding its other end. We must work ceaselessly." He looked round at her as he spoke. Her eyes were bent on him earnestly, meditatively. And there was something in her gaze for which he had no clue. She spoke, and so supplied it herself. "I think we shall be rescued now," she said quietly. "I feel a certainty about it, an instinct. Yes, I think we have defeated Fate. We shall come back into life again, you and I." He understood. Through the wild days in the boat and on the island, Fate had given no chance for either of them to probe the future. Hope had had so tiny a place in their thoughts--hopelessness had so immeasurably absorbed them all. And now? Was she allowing herself to dwell on life as it would affect them untouched by Fate, and free? Was she mentally rearranging her attitude to him? Fate would supply her own answer. He turned and doggedly began to work the flagstaff up and down. A tension of silence was over them as they waited. The hours went by. With a little gesture she came, took the pole from his hand, and bade him rest. He surrendered it quietly, spent ten minutes in massaging his stiffened muscles, and then took it again. It was queer, this sudden reticence which had arisen between them. It was as if while Fate delayed to speak, all other words were futile. And her answer might come at any moment or--God help them--not at all. The hours lengthened. The thin rays which still filtered through the half-closed pipe grew dim and at last died altogether. Night had come. Aylmer turned with a little shrug, placed a plank beneath the butt of the staff to keep it in position, and came back to the boat.