Fane looked up sharply; Angela said "Yes?" in an inquiring tone.
But Rupert did not at once mention the nature of his decision. He began to repeat Captain Somer's story; he told her what kind of a place the Rocas Reef was like; he even begged Fane to fetch an atlas from the study and show her the spot where the Arizona had been wrecked.
"You must please not mention this matter to the Herons when you are writing, you know, Angela," he continued, "or to Miss Murray. It is a mere chance—the smallest chance in the world—and it would not be fair to excite their hopes."
"But it is a chance, is it not, Rupert?"
"Yes, dear, it is a chance."
"Then can nothing be done?"
"I think something must be done," said he, quietly. There was a purpose in his tone, a hopeful light in his face, which she could not but remark.
"What will you do, Rupert?"
"I think, dear," he said, smiling, "that the easiest plan would be for me to go out to the Rocas Reef myself."
"You, Rupert!"