He ran the craft in, made fast the canoe, and then held out his hand. When she was seated, he pushed off.
"Where shall I take you?" he asked gravely.
"To the large island yonder—the Island of Pines," she said, indicating it; and he knew that this was Geraldine Frobisher, whom Mappin had discussed. Andrew admitted that his description of her was warranted.
"You have been unlucky," he remarked.
"I've been careless and have had to pay for it. We got breakfast early and I've missed my lunch."
"It's nearly three o'clock," said Andrew, pulling faster. "But how is it no one came to look for you?"
"My aunt goes to sleep in the afternoon; my father had some business at the Landing—if he had been at home it would have taken him some time to find me. He would have searched the nearer islands first, systematically and in rotation." She smiled. "That's the kind of man he is. I suppose you have guessed who I am?"
"Miss Frobisher?"
"And you're Mr. Allinson. It wasn't hard to identify you. Perhaps you know that your doings are a source of interest to the people at the Landing."
"I can't see why that should be so."