“Perhaps there was nothing to be gained then by letting you know, as you were bottled up, with no way out. Now, through the good offices of a foreign official, who, of course, couldn’t afford to appear, this opportunity to reach the mainland is open to you.” “Had you anything to do with that?” she inquired suspiciously. “Oh, the official is a friend of mine,” he answered carelessly. “And you really believe that there is an epidemic of plague here? Don’t you think that I’d make a good Red Cross nurse?” His voice was grave and rather stern. “You’ve never seen bubonic plague,” he said, “or you wouldn’t joke about it.” “I’m sorry. But it wasn’t wholly a joke. If we were really cooped up with an epidemic, I’d volunteer. What else would there be to do?” “Nothing of the sort,” he cried vehemently. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Anyway, isn’t the wonderful Luther Pruyn on his way to exorcise the demon, or something of the sort?” “What about Luther Pruyn? Who says he’s coming here?” “It’s the gossip of the diplomatic set and the clubs. He’s the favorite mystery of the day.” “Well, if he does come, it won’t improve matters any, for the first case he verifies he’ll clap on a quarantine that a mouse couldn’t creep through. I know something of the Pruyn method.” “And don’t wholly approve it, I judge.” “It may be efficacious, but it’s extremely inconvenient at times.” Again the cathedral clock boomed. “See how I’ve kept you from your own affairs!” cried Miss Polly contritely. “What are you going to do now? Go back to your mountains?” “Yes. As soon as you tell me that your father will go out by the reefs.” “Do you expect him to make up his mind, on five minutes’ notice, to abandon his yacht?” “I thought great magnates were supposed to be men of instant and unalterable decisions. I don’t know the type.” “Anyway, dad has gone out. I saw him drive away. Wouldn’t to-morrow do?” “Why, yes; I suppose so.” “I’ll tell you. The Voice will report at the rock to-morrow, at four.” “No.” “What a very uncompromising ‘no’!” “I can’t be there at four. Make it five.” “What a very arbitrary beetle man! Well, as I’ve wasted so much of your time to-day, I’ll accept your orders for to-morrow.” “And please impress your father with the extreme advisability of your getting off this island.” “Yes, sir,” she said meekly. “You’ll be most awfully glad to get rid of us, won’t you?” “Very greatly relieved.” “And a little bit sorry?” The begoggled face turned toward her. There was a perceptible tensity in the line of the jaw. But the beetle man made no answer. “Now, if I could see behind those glasses,” said Miss Polly Brewster to her wicked little self, “I’d probably _bite_ myself rather than say it again. Just the same—And a little bit sorry?” she persisted aloud. “Does that matter?” said the man quietly. Miss Polly Brewster forthwith bit herself on her pink and wayward tongue.