"When you talk about a paucity of intellect," he laughed softly, "it's a wonder you don't bite yourself." "Oh, Tommy, please let up; I'm sorry, honest--I'm wretched, too!" His manner changed then. Putting his arm through mine, he led me outside, going toward our landing. "This is just the time to joke, old man," he said, when we reached it. "She made up her mind to leave, _pronto_! Why? Conscience said obey Monsieur, but heart said nixy! What's to do then? Start home quick, of course, before little heart gives old conscience the solar plexus! That's how I size it up!" "But I don't see anything to joke about," I said gloomily. "Well, let me shuffle again--now take a look! When Smilax left with her order, I sent a note to the mate, telling him to bring both yachts down. Then we'll have to split the crew, and in the mix-up I'll see that you and she get on the _Whim_, while Monsieur sails on----But I see you get me! If you can't stifle her conscience before we reach Miami, you're a mud-hen." "Great guns," I whispered, grabbing him by the arms, "we might sail----" "All over the Gulf," he chuckled, giving me a push toward the water. "There's your Hellespont, son, as sure as Leander was a gentleman! Cross it now and tell her it's all right about that order!" "My two days aren't up yet; I'm bound." "That's nothing. Wait!" He was off to the old chief's bungalow and reappeared with Monsieur, whose broad smile was anything but reassuring. "You wish to relieve her uncertainty about that order?" he asked, coming up. "Certainly, my boy Jack, go and say what you please." "What I please?" I asked pointedly. "Why not what you please? She goes with me to Azuria--we have arranged it. You could not dissuade her now. Even could you, she knows she can not resist my authority. Yes, go and say what you like." He was laughing by this time, at his success rather than my discomfiture, but Tommy saw that I was making little distinction between the two and wisely led him away. As I stepped upon the little island Echochee came down to meet me. "How's your Lady?" I asked. "You go see," she answered in a low voice, pointing to the open door. As I entered the commodious living room Doloria looked up, but did not smile. She was reclining on a _chaise-longue_, beneath a shaded lamp whose rays still blended with the light of a dying afterglow. Her hunting costume had been discarded for a flimsy kind of an exquisite thing of blue--hardly a dress, although it had a lot of lace and seemed to fit her perfectly. It was open at the throat like some dresses, and the sleeves fell away from her arms; but I had seen one instinctive movement she made to pull it closer which might have indicated embarrassment. "I've come with Monsieur's permission," I said, bowing over her hand. "With Monsieur's permission," she repeated after me. "We seem to do nothing but with Monsieur's permission." I saw that she was nervous and very much upset, so replied as gently as I could: