"The boys went out to make fast a warp and saw the dinghy drifting up," Wyndham remarked. "We reckoned we had better start." "Thanks!" said Marston, who imagined his comrade did not want to talk just then. "Have you got a cigarette?" They shoved off and when they reached _Columbine_ went to the cabin. Marston mixed a cocktail. "There's enough for two," he said. "I expect you sculled pretty hard." "I did," Wyndham admitted. "The boys shoved her along handsomely; looks as if they liked you, but the tide was rising fast. Well? What were you shooting at?" "I imagined it was at the man who sent the dinghy adrift." "Ah," said Wyndham, "I wondered--didn't think you'd carelessly stop too long. In fact, I was pretty anxious until I heard the gun. But do you reckon somebody did push off the dinghy?" Marston stated his grounds for believing this, and Wyndham, after pondering for a few moments, looked hard at him. "Well, I suppose you see what it implies?" "I'm in the way. Somebody meant to get rid of me." "Yes; but that's not all," said Wyndham, with a dry smile. "It looks as if I'm not thought dangerous; the man we're up against is not persuaded my reform's sincere. On the whole, this may be an advantage. To puzzle your antagonist is good strategy." He drained his glass and lighted his pipe. "In the meantime, we'll let it go. What about the new running gear? Have we enough manilla rope for the peak-halyards?" CHAPTER III WYNDHAM TRIES PERSUASION The moon had not risen and thick mist drifted past the schooner before the hot land-breeze. Marston was talking to Wyndham in the cabin, but stopped when something bumped against the vessel's side. "What's that?" he asked sharply. "A canoe, I think," said Wyndham, and both listened. Marston wanted to run up on deck, but did not. Since his adventure on the flat had rather shaken his nerve, he meant to use some control. For a few moments they heard nothing and then the sliding hatch rattled, as if somebody pulled it back. Marston thought it significant that none of the crew had challenged the stranger. The hatch opened and the old mulatto came down. He did not squat on the deck, as he had done before, but sat, like a white man, on the side locker. "Give me a drink; you know my taste," he said, and Marston noticed that he spoke good English. Wyndham gave him some old brandy and he drank with leisurely enjoyment. Although he wore ragged and dirty cotton and his legs were bare, it was obvious that Rupert Wyndham had now done with pretense. "I'm your guest," he said to Wyndham. "Perhaps it's not good manners, but I'd sooner Mr. Marston left us alone." "Bob's my partner; I think we'll let him stay," Wyndham replied. "All that interests me interests him." Rupert shrugged. "It looks as if you had given him your confidence." "He knows who you are." "Oh, well!" said Rupert. "You sent for me. I don't know if I approve the form of the invitation you gave my servant."