She was standing with Jake in the many-hued glow of the lanterns, and she asked the question with a momentary anxiety, for she had looked in vain for Toby for some time.
"She's with Bunny. She's safe enough," said Jake.
"But they haven't come on board yet, and they've been gone so long," Maud said. "It's curious how little Captain Larpent seems to interest himself in her doings."
"Mighty curious," agreed Jake.
For Larpent had kept to the bridge morosely, almost throughout the evening. He was standing there now, looking down upon the shifting, chattering crowd. He had no idea how long it would be before Saltash tired of the game and gave orders to set sail. He waited in dumb endurance—as he would wait from day to day until the longed-for moment arrived. It had happened often before, Saltash's caprice had sometimes driven him to the verge of rebellion, but no one—not even Saltash himself—ever suspected it. Silent, phlegmatic, inexpressive, Larpent held on his undeviating course.
Maud's attention did not linger upon him. No one—save perhaps Saltash—ever paid much attention to Larpent. She turned back to watch the now empty gangway, and in a moment she gave an exclamation of relief.
"Ah! Here they come at last!"
A laughing voice spoke behind her. "Enter Cinderella and the Prince!"
She started and saw Saltash's swarthy face close to her. His odd eyes looked into hers with a flash of mischief.
"See how all my plans bear fruit!" he said. "I wave my wand, and you behold the result."