It was twilight when Willis Marsh was rowed out to the yacht. He found Mr. Wayland and Mildred seated in deck-chairs enjoying the golden sunset while the old man smoked. Marsh explained that he had excused himself from his guests to go whither his inclination led him, and drew his seat close to Mildred, rejoicing in the fact that no one could gainsay him this privilege. In reality, he had been drawn to _The Grande Dame_ largely by a lurking fear of Emerson. He was not entirely sure of the girl, and would not feel secure until the shores of Kalvik had sunk from sight and his rival had been left behind. But in spite of his uneasiness, it was the happiest moment of his life. If he had failed to ruin his enemy in the precise way he had planned, he was fairly satisfied with what he had accomplished. He had shifted the battle to stronger shoulders, and he had gained the woman he wanted. Moreover, he had won the unfaltering loyalty of Wayne Wayland, the dominant figure of the West. Nothing could keep him now from the success his ambition demanded. It added to his satisfaction to note the group of lusty sailors at the rail. He almost wished that Emerson would try to come aboard, that he might witness his discomfiture. Meanwhile he did his best to be pleasant. His complaisant enjoyment was interrupted at last by the approach of the second officer, who announced that a lady wished to see Mr. Wayland. "A lady?" asked the old man, in surprise. "Yes, sir. She came alongside in a small boat, just now, with some natives. I stopped her at the landing, but she says she must see you at once." "Ah! That woman again." Mr. Wayland's jaws snapped. "Tell her to begone. I refuse to see her." "Very well, sir!" The mate turned, but Mildred said, suddenly: "Wait! Why don't you talk to her, father?" "That creature? I have nothing to say to her." "Quite right!" agreed Marsh, with a cautionary glance at the speaker. "She is up to some trick." "She may have something really important to say to you," urged the girl. "No." Mildred leaned forward, and called to the ship's officer: "Show her up. I will see her." "Mildred, you mustn't talk to that woman!" her father cried. "It is very unwise," Marsh chimed in, apprehensively. "She isn't the sort of person--" Miss Wayland chilled him with a look and waved the mate away, then sank back into her chair. "I have talked with her already. I assure you she is not dangerous." "Have your own way," Mr. Wayland grunted. "But it is bound to lead to something unpleasant. She has probably come with a message from--that fellow." Willis Marsh squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He fixed his eyes upon the knot of men at the starboard rail; an expression of extreme alertness came over his bland features. His feet were drawn under him, and his fingers were clinched upon the arms of his chair. Then, with a sharp indrawing of his breath, he leaped up and darted down the deck.