The Celebrity shook himself free.  And in place of the gratitude for which the Fraction had looked, and which he had every reason to expect, he got something different.

“This outrage has gone far enough,” said the Celebrity, with a terrible calmness.  The Fraction was a man of the world.

“Come, come, old chap!” he said soothingly, “don’t cut up.  We’ll make things a little more homelike here.”  And he pulled a bottle from the depths of the hamper.  “This will brace you up.”

He picked up the hamper and disappeared into the place of retention, while the Celebrity threw the bottle into the brush.  And just then (may I be forgiven if I am imaginative!) I heard a human laugh come from that direction.  In the casting of that bottle the Celebrity had given vent to some of the feelings he had been collecting overnight, and it must have carried about thirty yards.  I dived after it like a retriever puppy for a stone; but the bottle was gone!  Perhaps I could say more, but it doesn’t do to believe in yourself too thoroughly when you get up early.  I had nothing to say when I returned.

“You here, Crocker?” said the author, fixing his eye on me.  “Deuced kind of you to get up so early and carry a basket so far for me.”

“It has been a real pleasure, I assure you,” I protested.  And it had.  There was a silent space while the two young ladies regarded him, softened by his haggard and dishevelled aspect, and perplexed by his attitude.  Nothing, I believe, appeals to a woman so much as this very lack of bodily care.  And the rogue knew it!

“How long is this little game of yours to continue,—­this bull-baiting?” he inquired.  “How long am I to be made a butt of for the amusement of a lot of imbeciles?”

Miss Thorn crossed over and seated herself on the ground beside him.  “You must be sensible,” she said, in a tone that she might have used to a spoiled child.  “I know it is difficult after the night you have had.  But you have always been willing to listen to reason.”

A pang of something went through me when I saw them together.  “Reason,” said the Celebrity, raising his head.  “Reason, yes.  But where is the reason in all this?  Because a man who happens to be my double commits a crime, is it right that I, whose reputation is without a mark, should be made to suffer?  And why have I been made a fool of by two people whom I had every cause to suppose my friends?”

“You will have to ask them,” replied Miss Thorn, with a glance at us.  “They are mischief-makers, I’ll admit; but they are not malicious.  See what they have done this morning!  And how could they have foreseen that a detective was on his way to the island?”

“Crocker might have known it,” said he, melting.  “He’s so cursed smart!”

“And think,” Miss Thorn continued, quick to follow up an advantage, “think what would have happened if they hadn’t denied you.  This horrid man would have gone off with you to Asquith or somewhere else, with handcuffs on your wrists; for it isn’t a detective’s place to take evidence, Mr. Crocker says.  Perhaps we should all have had to go to Epsom!  And I couldn’t bear to see you in handcuffs, you know.”