“Now, you dear Sir Charles,” she went on, “take that to keep you warm!  You know I am really quite fond of you.  You’re not half a bad old boy when one takes you the right way.  You have a human side to you.  Why, I often wear that sweetly pretty brooch you gave me at Nice, when I was Madame Picardet!  And I’m sure your goodness to me at Lucerne, when I was the little curate’s wife, is a thing to remember.  We’re so glad to have seen you in your lovely Scotch home you were always so proud of! Don’t be frightened, please.  We wouldn’t hurt you for worlds.  We are so sorry we have to take this inhospitable means of evading you.  But dear David—­I must call him dear David still—­instinctively felt that you were beginning to suspect us; and he can’t bear mistrust.  He is so sensitive!  The moment people mistrust him, he must break off with them at once.  This was the only way to get you both off our hands while we make the needful little arrangements to depart; and we’ve been driven to avail ourselves of it.  However, I will give you my word of honour, as a lady, you shall be fetched away to-night.  If dear David doesn’t do it, why, I’ll do it myself.”  And she blew another kiss to us.

Charles was half beside himself, divided between alternate terror and anger.  “Oh, we shall die here!” he exclaimed.  “Nobody’d ever dream of coming to this rock to search for me.”

“What a pity you didn’t let me teach you to swim!” Colonel Clay interposed.  “It is a noble exercise, and very useful indeed in such special emergencies!  Well, ta-ta!  I’m off!  You nearly scored one this time; but, by putting you here for the moment, and keeping you till we’re gone, I venture to say I’ve redressed the board, and I think we may count it a drawn game, mayn’t we?  The match stands at three, love—­with some thousands in pocket?”

“You’re a murderer, sir!” Charles shrieked out.  “We shall starve or die here!”

Colonel Clay on his side was all sweet reasonableness.  “Now, my dear sir,” he expostulated, one hand held palm outward, “Do you think it probable I would kill the goose that lays the golden eggs, with so little compunction?  No, no, Sir Charles Vandrift; I know too well how much you are worth to me.  I return you on my income-tax paper as five thousand a year, clear profit of my profession.  Suppose you were to die!  I might be compelled to find some new and far less lucrative source of plunder.  Your heirs, executors, or assignees might not suit my purpose.  The fact of it is, sir, your temperament and mine are exactly adapted one to the other. I understand you; and you do not understand me—­which is often the basis of the firmest friendships.  I can catch you just where you are trying to catch other people.  Your very smartness assists me; for I admit you are smart.  As a regular financier, I allow, I couldn’t hold a candle to you.  But in my humbler walk of life I know just how to utilise you.  I lead you on, where you think you are going to gain some advantage over others; and by dexterously playing upon your love of a good bargain, your innate desire to best somebody else—­I succeed in besting you.  There, sir, you have the philosophy of our mutual relations.”