"Dick," she began earnestly, "do you believe there is anything more than foolishness at the bottom of all the talk we hear about a woman's intuition?"
"All sober-minded people admit that there is, don't they?" I said.
"There is something behind all this that is happening to us," she asserted gravely; "something that I can feel, and can't grasp or understand. It is as real to me as the breeze in those palms, or this staring sunshine, and is as intangible as both."
"You have been talking with Conetta," I said shortly.
"About this? No, I haven't. What makes you say that?"
"No matter; go on with your intangibility."
"This sudden mutiny and the way it was hurled at us: it is all so strange and unaccountable. Who ever heard of the sailing-master of a private yacht turning pirate? And especially a dear, cross old Uncle Elijah, whose ancestors probably came over in the Mayflower?"
"Is Bonteck saying that Goff headed the mutiny?" I asked.
"He is letting the others say it, which is just the same."
"As you say, it is fairly incredible. Yet the fact remains. We are here, and the Andromeda, with Goff on board, has vanished."