At ten o'clock that night when, by prearrangement, Tommy and I paddled across to bring Monsieur back from the little island, she was standing with him on the landing. The moon was nearing full, bathing her in a silvery light, and I saw from the droop of her body that she was tired. "Good night," I said, arising in the punt and putting out my hand. "Good night," she murmured wearily; but her fingers were cold and did not answer the pressure of my own. I had touched Efaw Kotee's hand only a few hours before, and it had been cold with the same inert, mysterious coldness. I shivered. CHAPTER XXV A FLYING THRONE Early next morning Monsieur was taken to the little island, and I felt that his interview would be long and solemn--perhaps stormy. I hoped so. He came back for luncheon and immediately left again, having given us no intimation of his progress. I did not know what Doloria might be suffering from these visits, but they made me so abominably restive that during the afternoon I took a pine and crossed to the mainland, half-heartedly intending to look for deer. It was nearly sundown when I returned. "We're packing, sir," said the sailor who tied my punt. "Packing? Why?" "Orders, sir." Without loss of time I hunted up Tommy, finding him and Bilkins busy at carpentry. "What's in the wind?" I brusquely demanded, forgetting that Tommy was rather particular about the way people addressed him. "Rain," he imperturbably replied; or did he mean reign, and was employing a vulgar pun to apprize me of Doloria's decision! So I delivered a ten-second philippic on the poverty of some intellects, whereupon he left off working and regarded me with amusement. "Fact is, Lord Chesterfield, I don't know what's in the wind," he said, "but we're leaving for Little Cove to-morrow at dawn. Bilkins and I are making a portable throne--in other words, a chair suspended from poles so Doloria won't have to walk. Professor came over about five o'clock in a rattling hurry and splendid humor. He's packing Efaw Kotee's effects now. Smilax left two hours ago with orders for the _Whim_ to be there and take us off. Add it up for yourself." "Orders," I angrily exclaimed, for this impertinence on the part of Monsieur was going too far. "He settles with me, that's all!--and the _Whim_ stays in Big Cove till I send for her!" He grinned, then whistled softly. "So there's no use knicking my knuckles any more on this portable throne?" "Not the slightest," I told him. "Love's first tiff," he sighed, laying down the hammer and beginning to fill his pipe. "Love's what?" "Tootsie-wootsie tiff, I believe I said"--this between puffs as the match flared high and low over the bowl. "You understand, of course, that Doloria gave the order." "Confound you, why didn't you say so! What's happened? Did a message come?" "Sure." He stopped smoking and looked at me. "A big limousine drove up with a note and flowers." "Be serious," I thundered. "This isn't any time to joke!"