“No! Don’t!” her father urged her. Then, under his breath he added: “I don’t want to look after any more women folks than I have to in case of trouble. Stay in your room, Grace,” he called to her. “Everything is all right. We’ll anchor again soon.”
And yet how could he, with the best bower lying at the bottom of the lake, where it remained after the cable was cut?
But the injunction to Grace not to alarm the singer was not necessary. Awakened by the pitching and tossing of the yacht, Madame Androletti called out, as the millionaire started up on deck to join Captain Reardon.
“Oh, what has happened?” she wanted to know. “Are we in any danger?”
“Not the slightest, my dear Madame,” replied the millionaire. “We are merely getting an early start, that is all.”
But it was useless to try to quiet two women, once their nervous fears were aroused. As Larry came from his room, attired in conventional style, he saw Grace, and the woman whose son he was seeking, come from their rooms together.
“Oh, Larry!” cried the girl. “What is it? Where is my father?”
“He’s up on deck, Grace. It’s all right. We merely lost our anchor in the storm, and we had to get under way to keep from being tossed on shore. It will be all right.”
“Lost our anchor? How?”
“We’ll know soon,” replied the young reporter, noncommittally. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out for sure. I’m going up on deck.”