"I was on a—on a honeymoon," said the lady.
"A honeymoon?" jumped Daphne.
"And being inexpressibly bored," said the lady, "I——"
"You are frank, to say the least," murmured Jaffrey Bretton.
"'Frank?'" said the lady. "I was desperate! So when the others took all the launches to go off and hunt for some kind of a fish, a sail fish I think it was, I pretended that I had a headache and stayed behind in my cabin, and the first moment even the engineer was out of sight I just slipped into the canoe and paddled ashore. Having heard, you see," explained the lady, "about all the queer people hidden away on some of these islands—it just occurred to me, you see, that——"
"All of which is very interesting, of course," said Jaffrey Bretton, "but honor compels me to advance a few little observations of my own. Yonder, through that maze of gulls," he 128 pointed, "I note the only smoke on the horizon which leads me to infer that, having camouflaged your absence not only wisely but too well, the yacht and bridegroom in question are already steaming southward at a very reasonable mileage. For the Caribbean, doubtless? Always have I understood that the Caribbean was a really rather remarkable place for honeymoons!"
But already, with a little choking gasp, the Intruding Lady was on her feet staring frantically in every direction. Her face was horridly white.
"Quick!" she cried. "We must get the canoe and try to catch them!"
"Your knowledge of nautical matters is charming," bowed Jaffrey Bretton. "But though one may often put to sea in a canoe he does not readily put to Gulf. The unfortunate typhoonish treachery of these waters, the peculiarly hoydenish habits of sharks, the——"
"We—must—get—the—canoe!" insisted the lady.