She flushed, but answered steadily:
"Yes. I thought you looked like a man who'd help a girl out of a mean place."
"By Jove, that's the biggest compliment I've ever had!"
"I only had a chance to write a little," she ignored my outburst, "but hoped you'd guess and tell your friend, the police agent."
"I didn't guess that," I admitted, somewhat crestfallen. "But we knew you were in danger."
"I should never have left that café if I'd known more myself, then," she said, tensely. "I'd have stood up and called to you—to every man there!"
"And I'd have brought you out in spite of hell," I cried. "Don't tell me there was anything much worse!"
Her cheeks were still aflame with anger, but she smiled, saying in a lower tone:
"Nothing worse than threats. When we got aboard the yacht my father came to me and said, point-blank before those men, that—that—oh, I can't!" She buried her face in her hands—and it was all I could do to keep from putting my arms about her and whispering that everything was now all right. But she had started out to tell me, and was determined to see it through. "He said that he'd promised our captain, that creature Jess, that I should—should——"
"Never mind," I murmured. "I know about it—he said you'd have to marry the scoundrel."