"I know," Geoffrey said hoarsely. "I know, dear. And Marion?"
"Marion is sorely disturbed. I hardly know what to make of Marion. For the first time she positively appears to be frightened. And Marion is not the girl who cries. I was alarmed about her a little time ago," replied Vera.
"Ah, well, it won't be very long," Geoffrey said consolingly. "To-morrow morning Tchigorsky has promised that I shall be safe and sound in the bosom of the family again. What are they going to do now?"
"They are going to search until they find you. All the boats from the village are out, even the servants are assisting. You can understand how I should feel if I did not know everything. I could not stay in the house; I could do no more than wander along the shore feeling that I was helping. It would be impossible to remain in the house and that is what they all feel. There is a full moon to-night, and they will be here till they are exhausted."
Geoffrey nodded. He was wondering how he was going to account for his absence and for the manner in which he was finally to turn up safe and sound again. He would have to concoct some story of being picked up by a passing boat and landed some way down the coast.
"They guess I am a victim to the vendetta?" he asked.
"Of course. They say the mast and oars were partly sawn away. It will be the talk of the country in a few hours. Geoffrey, I must go. Don't you see that they have missed me?"
Vera had been missed. Already Marion was calling her. There was just the chance that she might be yet another victim. Vera slipped out of the cave, walking backwards as if she were looking for something.
"You won't betray yourself?" said Geoffrey.
"I'll try not to, dear. I understand how necessary it is that the truth should be concealed. And yet it is hard not to be able to ease their minds."