"What has become of him?"
I didn't tell her that Van Dyck and I had left him asleep under the trees on the north shore of the island some two hours earlier. It didn't seem at all necessary to harrow her with the story of Ingerson's miring in the drink demoniac's morass.
"I don't know just what has become of him," I said, which was strictly true as to the bare fact. "He'll doubtless turn up all right in the morning."
"You say they are moving the camp. Will it be safer in the wood?"
"There was no choice. The seas are breaking over the other place by now."
"Poor Aunt Mehitable!" she said brokenly. "At the very first lull we must go back to her, Dick."
"There is no special hurry," I offered. "She is all right, and she sent me out to find you; begged me to go."
"She sent you?"
"Yes; me, and not Jerry Dupuyster."