"But you think," said Vivian, deliberately, "that possibly there are now men on that island, waiting for a ship to come and take them off?"
"Well, sir," said the captain, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his pea-jacket, and settling himself deep into his wooden arm-chair, "it's just a possibility."
"Do ships ever call at the island?"
"They give it as wide a berth as they can, sir. Still, if it was a fine, clear day, and a vessel passed within reasonable distance, the castaways, if there were any, might make a signal. The smoke from a fire can be seen a good way off. Unfortunately, the reef lies low. That's what makes it dangerous."
Vivian sat brooding over this information for some minutes. The captain watched him curiously, and said:—
"It's only fair to remind you, sir, that even if some of the men did get safe to the island, there's no certainty that your friend would be amongst them. In fact, it's ten to one that any of them got to land; and it's a hundred to one that your friend is there. It would need a good deal of pluck, and strength, and skill, too, to save himself in that way, or else a deal of lack. I had the luck," said Captain Somers, modestly, "but I own it's unusual."
"I don't know about the luck," said Vivian, "but if pluck, and strength, and skill could save a man under those circumstances, I think my friend Heron had a good chance."
They had some more conversation, and then Vivian took his leave. He did not talk much when he reached the street, and throughout the rest of the day he was decidedly absent-minded and thoughtful. Angela forebore to question him, but she saw that something lay upon his mind, and she became anxious to hear what it was. Mr. Fane preserved a discreet silence. It was not until after dinner that Rupert seemed to awake to a consciousness of his unwonted silence and abstraction.
The servants had withdrawn. A shaded lamp threw a circle of brilliance upon the table, and brought out its distinctive features with singular distinctness against a background of olive-green wall and velvet curtain. Its covering of glossy white damask, its ornaments of Venetian glass, the delicate yet vivid colours of the hothouse flowers and fruit in the dishes, the gem-like tints of the wines, the very texture and the hues of the Bulgarian embroidery upon the d'oyleys, formed a study in colour which an artist would have loved to paint. The faces and figures of the persons present harmonised well enough with the artistic surroundings. Angela's pale, spiritual loveliness was not impaired by the sombreness of her garments; she almost always wore black now, but it was black velvet, and she had a knot of violets in her bosom. Rupert's musing face, with its high-bred look of distinction, was turned thoughtfully to the fire. Arthur Fane had the sleek, fair head, straight features, and good-humouredly intelligent expression, characteristic of a very pleasant type of young Englishman. The beautiful deerhound which sat with its long nose on Rupert's knee, and its melancholy eyes lifted affectionately from time to time to Rupert's face, was a not unworthy addition to the group.
Vivian spoke at last with a smile. "I am very unsociable to-night," he said, tuning his face to the place where he knew Angela sat. "I have been making a decision."