"But—"
"And listen! Not a word of explanation, unless something has already happened. Understand? No! Not a word! Go on calling him Billy. Keep it up until we find out something."
"I—I can't," wailed Polly.
"Nonsense!" Rosalind was losing patience. "Didn't I travel all the way down from Clayton with him, talking to him just as if he were really Mr. Kellogg? It's a pity if you can't help a little—after deliberately turning him loose on this island."
"Why not ex—expose him?"
"Not yet! We must find out some things first. We must know what it all means. Come now! For Heaven's sake, brace up, Polly! Nobody has been murdered yet."
"I'm afraid!"
"Then let me take the responsibility," declared Rosalind in a disgusted tone. "Only you've simply got to play your part—now that you've started it."
She seized the trembling Polly by the arm and started her at a rapid pace toward the house. Rosalind was bewildered not less than her companion, but she betrayed the fact by no outward sign. Even in the face of possible disaster, resolution did not desert her. Besides, her anger was still hot at the deception practised by the pudgy young man who was now so inadvertently a guest of the island.
Polly's efforts to hang back were ineffectual. There was grim energy in Rosalind's grip, so that the unwilling young woman found herself propelled forward, despite her vanished courage.