A violent lurch of the wagon caused him to grasp Bobby’s arm to steady her, and as he did so she got a glimpse of his rueful countenance.

“Cheer up!” she cried.  “There’s no use looking like that even if we are left.”

“Like what?”

“Like a trout on a hook.”

He shot a glance at her.  Was it possible that she had divined his state of mind?  Woman’s intuition was a thing of which he stood in deadly awe.

But they were arriving at the dock, and there was no time to indulge in subtleties.  He sprang from the wagon before it came to a halt.

“The Saluria!” he demanded wildly of a man in uniform.  “Has she sailed?”

“The Saluria?” repeated the man with maddening deliberation.  “Let’s see.  Yellow funnels, ain’t she?  Yep, that’s her a-going out of the harbor now.”

VI

IN THE WIND-SHELTER

When Mrs. Western, anxiously watching the passengers come aboard from the last launch, had failed to see Bobby Boynton, she was partly reassured by young Vaughn, who was quite confident he had seen her on the dock.  Not being satisfied, however, she made a tour of the crowded decks, looking into the music room, the writing-room and even the smoking-room, It was not until she went below and peeped into Bobby’s empty cabin that she became seriously alarmed.  Hurrying back on deck, she found, to her consternation, that the gang-planks had been lifted and the ship had weighed anchor.  In great excitement she rushed to the bridge to find the captain, but he was not there.  Five interminable minutes had been lost before she found him and stated her case.

The captain of an ocean-liner is too used to false alarms to be easily excited, and it was only after another thorough search was made, and no trace of Bobby and the Englishman found, that Captain Boynton concerned himself.  Just what he said need not be chronicled.  It was extremely crude and extremely personal, and punctuated by phrases that would have shocked the delicate sensibilities of the Honorable Percival.

His humor was not improved by the dictatorial messages that began to arrive by wireless: 

  Have chartered launch.  Hold steamer,

  HASCOMBE.

  Distance too great for launch.  Meet us halfway.

  HASCOMBE.

  Have started, Meet us.

  HASCOMBE.

The exciting news that somebody was left soon traveled from deck to deck, and when the steamer began slowly and laboriously to come about, the railing’s were crowded with passengers.  Presently a small dark object was visible in the distance, rising and falling unsteadily on the waves that lay between the steamer and the dim shore-line.  Gradually the launch came nearer, and with some difficulty succeeded in getting alongside.

A cheer of welcome went up as Bobby and Percival scrambled up the ship’s-ladder.  Their hats were adorned with trailing wreaths of smilax, and about their shoulders were garlands of carnations.  It was a stage entrance, sufficiently conspicuous and effective to have satisfied the soul of the most exacting manager.