“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.”

“Don’t you think we had better leave them alone?” I said to Miss Trevor.

She smiled and shook her head.

“You are blind as a bat, Mr. Crocker,” she said.

The Celebrity had weighed Miss Thorn’s words and was listening passively now while she talked.  There may be talents which she did not possess; I will not pretend to say.  But I know there are many professions she might have chosen had she not been a woman.  She would have made a name for herself at the bar; as a public speaker she would have excelled.  And had I not been so long accustomed to picking holes in arguments I am sure I should not have perceived the fallacies of this she was making for the benefit of the Celebrity.  He surely did not.  It is strange how a man can turn under such influence from one feeling to another.  The Celebrity lost his resentment; apprehension took its place.