"Why, then, I should simply have steamed away with my honoured guest on board. After a day or two's trip at sea, I think there'd be no question Ann would accept me as her husband. The position would be an even more awkward one than her predicament at the Dents de Loup. Her presence on the yacht could hardly be explained away as an--accident"--significantly. "But I preferred my first plan--it entailed less publicity"--with a short laugh. Cara sprang up, her eyes blazing. In the torrent of scorn and anger which swept over her at his duplicity--at the nonchalant recital of it all--the embarrassment of her own situation was temporarily lost sight of. "Brett, I think you must be absolutely devoid of any sense of right or wrong! I never heard of anything more utterly fiendish and heartless in the whole of my life. Have you _no_ conscience, _no_ decent feeling, that you could plot and plan to ruin a woman's happiness as you would have ruined Ann's? Oh! It's unbelievable! I think you must be a devil incarnate!" He rose too, his eyes smouldering dangerously. The veneer of polished mockery had dropped from him suddenly. "I'm not. I'm a man in love," he said thickly. "I wanted her--God, how I wanted her! And, but for you, I'd have succeeded. You've robbed me--robbed me of my mate!..." His lips drew back over his teeth in a kind of snarl. "I think you deserve to be punished," he went on slowly and significantly. "What's to prevent my putting out to sea--now--this minute--and taking you with me?" "Brett--" She shrank back, suddenly terrified. His eyes were blazing with a reckless fury--mad eyes. She made a dart for the door, but before she could reach it he had caught her by the arm, his strong fingers crushing deep into her white flesh. "Well, why not?" he jeered savagely. "You came here in Ann's place of your own free will! Supposing you _take_ her place--altogether--" A tap sounded on the door. Brett's hand fell away from her arm, and she stood quiveringly waiting for what might come. After a discreet pause Achille entered, advancing with soft, cat-like tread. "For mademoiselle," he said, tendering a note to Cara on a salver. As she took the note she vaguely noticed that it bore no superscription. With trembling fingers she tore it open. _"I hear you are on the_ Sphinx. _I'm quite sure you must have a good reason for being there, if you are there of your own free will. But in case you are not, and need help, I wanted you to know I've come on board and will take you home whenever you wish,--E."_ Cara glanced across at Brett, who was watching her curiously. She slipped the note, intended for Ann, into the bosom of her gown and turned to Achille. "Tell Mr. Coventry Miss Lovell is not on board the _Sphinx_," she said quietly. "Coventry!" broke violently from Brett. "Where is he, Achille?"