“Yes, I do.”

Hitherto Miss Polly had been declaring to all and sundry, including the beetle man himself, that it was her firm intent and pleasure to stay on the island and observe the presumptively interesting events that promised.  That she had reversed this decision, on the unsolicited counsel of an extremely queer stranger, was a phenomenon the peculiarity of which did not strike her at the time.  All that she felt was a settled confidence in the beetle man’s sound reason for his advice.

“Very good,” said Mr. Brewster.  “If I can get through a message to the State Department, they’ll bring pressure to bear on the Dutch, and we can take the yacht through the blockade.  It’s only a question of finding a way to lay the matter before the Dutch authorities, anyway.  I’ve been making inquiries here, and I find there’s no intention of bottling up neutral pleasure craft.  I dare say we could get out now.  Only it’s possible that the Hollanders might shoot first and ask questions afterward.”

“It would have to be done quickly, dad.  They may quarantine at any time.”

“Dr. Pruyn ought to be here any day now.  Let’s leave that matter for him.  There’s a man I have confidence in.”

“Mr. Perkins says that Dr. Pruyn will bottle up the port tighter than the Dutch.”

“Let him, so long as we get out first.  Now, Polly, you tell this man Perkins that I’ll pay all expenses and give him a round hundred for himself if he’ll bring me a receipt showing that my cablegram has been dispatched to Washington.”

“I don’t think I’d quite like to do that, dad.  He isn’t the sort of man one offers money to.”

“Every one’s the sort of man one offers money to—­if it’s enough,” retorted her father.  “And a hundred dollars will look pretty big to a scientific man.  I know something about their salaries.  You try him.”

“So far as expenses go, I will.  But I won’t hurt his feelings by trying to pay him for something that he would do for friendship or not at all.”

“Have it your own way.  When is he coming in?”

“He isn’t coming in.”

“Then where are you going to see him?”

“Up on the mountain trail, when I ride tomorrow afternoon.”

“With Carroll?”

“No; I’m going alone.”

“I don’t quite like to have you knocking about mountain roads by yourself, though Mr. Sherwen says you’re safe anywhere here.  Where’s that little automatic revolver I gave you?”

“In my trunk.  I’ll carry that if it will make you feel any easier.”

“Yes, do.  But I can’t see why you can’t send word to Perkins that I want to see him here.”

“I can.  And I can guess just what his answer would be.”

“Well, guess ahead.”

“He’d tell you to go to the bad place, or its scientific equivalent.”  She laughed.

“Would he?” Mr. Brewster did not laugh.  “And perhaps you’ll be good enough to tell me why.”