She looked a little startled, but admitted that Tomlin had said he did and had never loved any one else; and her eyes seemed to ask Billy what he thought of a man who would love a girl and not show it. Billy was a man of some attainment in the use of his wits. He had lived by them for many years. He assured Lorraine that all Tomlin needed was a little friendly advice and to “leave it to me!” She was a bit alarmed at Billy’s proprietary manner in taking over her love affair, but they were a long way from home and the conventions of New York. And when Billy started to leave she said: “And by the way, Mr. Rand, if for any reason you care to leave on the _Petrel_, whether or not Roscoe comes, you will be welcome. And we are not going back by way of Langar!” “Them detectives’ll be awfully disappointed if you don’t,” Billy said frankly, wondering just how much Tomlin had told her, and what the steward had told her--or Captain Farwell? Billy got into the boat to be taken ashore, but the sailors said that they were waiting for the Captain, too. Presently Captain Farwell came and as the boat shoved off in the darkness, there was a crackling and snapping on board the _Petrel_. Billy had noticed the wireless. He was not much of a sailor and besides it had seemed natural for ships to have tall poles and wires and ropes. “Mr. Rand,” said the Captain, when he came, “I’m sending to Langar a description of the man we met on the island this afternoon.” Of course, he said it that way so the sailors wouldn’t understand. “And I believe,” he went on, “that I can persuade the owner of the _Petrel_ that it would be wiser to go back by way of Langar.” So the Captain had been listening. Billy settled down on a thwart and tried to think. “It will take the detectives about two days to get here. Much may happen in two days.” Billy hoped so. The Captain left Billy to ruminate until the boat hit the beach. Then he got out and said that he would walk a bit with Billy. “You know,” the Captain began, “if Tomlin should not leave on the _Petrel_ I don’t believe that we would go back by way of Langar.” Billy said nothing. He didn’t quite understand. “And in that case, if you were on board the detectives would never meet you.” “Go on,” said Billy. “I’m interested.” “But if Tomlin remained--and was able to talk, understand--he would tell that you had gone on the _Petrel_ and you wouldn’t be much better off. Besides, the _Petrel_ would be into trouble for having tried to do you a favor. They would get hold of the _Petrel_ some way.” “That’s right,” said Billy. “Now tell it all.” “I’ll be frank with you. You are a bad crook, so I don’t suppose one crime more or less means much to you, does it?” “Naw, I’m bad!” said Billy grinning to himself in the darkness. “Listen then. You kill Tomlin and I’ll see that you get away. Let him live this night out and I’ll put you in irons and carry you to Langar myself.” “Ooo-oo,” said Billy. “I’m in a pickle.”