"That skiff belongs to one of the men in the tents," she said pointing.
A sailor was told off to row it ashore.
They landed on the old wharf, and Riever led her up the hill. To Pen's relief they were followed a hundred feet or so behind, by a body-guard. Riever had his hand under her elbow. She would not allow herself to object to that, though her flesh crawled at his touch.
"You feel better now?" he murmured.
She nodded.
"Tell me how it came about."
She had her story ready for him. She cut it as cunningly to the pattern of truth as she could. "I searched to-day in all the places I knew of, but I found no trace of him. On my way home along the road this evening I saw him returning amongst the other searchers. It seems he joined the searchers some days ago. That's why you couldn't find him."
"What devilish cunning!" cried Riever.
"It was growing dark," Pen went on. "He dropped behind the men he was with, and we had some talk. We couldn't say much there amongst all those people—I wasn't going to let them know, so I made an appointment with him to meet me on the beach at eleven, when I supposed everything would have quieted down. He suspected nothing."
"Oh, he thinks he's irresistible!" sneered Riever. "... It was dangerous. You should have arranged to have men concealed there."