“Oh, I know all you would say. She is the Professor’s daughter and all that; but she has fled with Wilkins all the same. Trust a woman to know. She has gone away with him willingly.”
“And the Professor?”
The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, the poor old man!” she cried. “The poor old man! So courteous, so sweet, so kindly. I never knew my father—he died when I was an infant—but I like to think that if he had lived he would have been like the Professor.”
“Then you don’t think he has gone with his daughter?”
“What! Gone with her? Never! Why, he was on board long after they had disappeared. He must have been knocked overboard in the fight.”
Caruth nodded. “I agree with you, of course,” he responded. “No one could suspect the old man, even if circumstances were against him, which they are not. But what of the others? Do you think they will escape?”
“For the moment perhaps. Not for long. I did not speak idly when I warned Wilkins in New York. Neither he nor the girl will live to enjoy the fruits of their treachery.” Dangerously the dark eyes flashed.
Caruth shuddered. “You wouldn’t set the nihilists on them?” he protested blankly.
“There is no need. Think you I could screen them if I would! No! I am not the only member of the Order on board. The Brotherhood has its agents everywhere. At this very moment, it probably understands better than we what has happened. Who should know its methods if not I? We shall all have to answer for our failure—I, Professor Shishkin if he lives, and, most of all, his daughter and her lover. I have already been summoned before the Inner Circle. The order was given me ten minutes ago.”
She paused, hesitated for a moment, then raised her head proudly. “We have all made our beds,” she declared. “Let us lie in them. I, for one, shall not flinch. What port is the yacht heading for?”