These thoughts, however, came to a broken end.  From the window he saw The Tigress faring toward Copeley’s!  Then somebody was coming?  Some political high muckamuck, probably.  Still, he was puzzled because McClintock had not spoken.

Presently McClintock came in.  “General inspection after lunch; drying bins, stores and the young palms south-east.  It will be hot work, but it must be done at once.”

“All right, Mr. McClintock.”  Spurlock lowered his voice.  “You are giving that chap the boot rather suddenly?”

“Had to.”

“Somebody coming?”

“Yes.  Top-side insurance people.  You know all this stuff is insured.  They’ll inspect the schooner on the way back,” McClintock lied, cheerfully.

“The Wastrel seemed to take it all right.”

“Oh, it’s a part of the game,” said McClintock.  “He knows he had to take it.  There are some islands upon which he is not permitted to land any more.”

At luncheon, preoccupied in thought, Spurlock did not notice the pallor on Ruth’s cheeks or the hunted look in her eyes.  She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue.

He patted the hand on his sleeve.  “Could you get any of the music last night?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful!  It’s an infernal shame.”

“Couldn’t ... couldn’t I go with you this afternoon?”

“Too hot.”

“But I’m used to that, Hoddy,” she said, eagerly.

“I’d rather you went over the last four chapters, which I haven’t polished yet.  You know what’s what.  Slash and cut as much as you please.  I’ll knock off at tea.  By-by.”

The desperate eagerness to go with him—­and she dared not voice it!  She watched him until McClintock joined him and the two made off toward the south.  She turned back into the hall.  Rollo began to cavort.

“No, Rollo; not this afternoon.”

“But I’ve got to go!” insisted Rollo, in perfectly understandable dog-talk.

“Be still!”

“Oh, come along!  I’ve just got to have my muck bath.  I’m burning up.”

“Rollo!”

There were no locks or panelled doors in the bungalow; and Rollo was aware of it.  He dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda.  Once more he begged; but as Ruth only repeated her sharp command, he spun about and raced toward the jungle.  Immediately he was gone, she regretted that she had not followed.

Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen.  Ruth shivered; she was cold.  Alone; not even the dog to warn her, and Hoddy deep in the island somewhere.  Help—­should she need it—­from the natives was out of the question.  She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance.

Yes; she had heard the music the night before.  She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over.  She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man.  One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient.  A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet.