"Certainly. I will wait any reasonable length of time or do anything you suggest that will further the peaceful settlement of this case. In the meantime, I shall have to keep her in sight."
As they were preparing to take to the boats the captain came up to Margaret.
"I just want to say to you, madam," he said, wrathfully, "that if I had known what that cuss was up to he—he wouldn't have got me to row him." Then raising his voice a little to insure its carrying as far as the detective, "I lost a leg, madam, fighting men. But I've never got down yet to hunting women and children!"
"Oh, Captain, I know you wouldn't have done anything to harm him if you had known. You have always been so good to Philip."
"Mama," said Philip, anxiously, as they packed the baskets for their return, "can't we eat the picnic on the way home?"
It was a sad and thoughtful little party that rowed slowly back, the detective discreetly following in his own boat. For Margaret, at the first appearance of Smeltzer, there had been a moment of absolute terror. That had now given place to dull despondency; and the anguish in her eyes was piteous to see.
Mrs. Pennybacker from the first counseled returning to Washington with Smeltzer. "If that man has been hunting you for four years and a half, he will not give the thing up now that you are found—the detective is undoubtedly right about that. But it may be as he says that you can make terms with Mr. De Jarnette when you see him."
"Oh, I can't. I know I can't," said Margaret.
"There is no telling where a determined man will stop," Harcourt said. "And—Smeltzer is not going to lose you again." Then they fell to wording the telegram.
When the party reached Donohue's dock Mr. Smeltzer followed them at a respectful distance up the street to the Oakland.