It was a little lean-to tent open to the fire in front, but with a mosquito curtain hanging down. He heard her splashing towards him and came out. He must have been sitting there looking at the fire and smoking. His pipe was still between his teeth. He stared at her as at a ghost without making a sound. His body had a tense look. She could not read his face because the moon was behind him. Its light was strong in her face.
"It is I, Miss Broome," she said in her direct way.
He seemed to come to life. "You!" he cried in a voice of delight. He laughed shakily. "I thought ... how foolish of me ... I was thinking of you ... I thought..." He seemed unable to go on.
"I came through the water to avoid making tracks in the sand."
"I understand!" he said eagerly. "I'll carry you ashore."
Pen stamped her foot in the water. "You don't understand! Stay where you are and I'll tell you!"
"There's nothing wrong is there?" he asked anxiously. "I heard the motor-boat start off."
"Wrong enough," said Pen simply. Since nothing was to be gained by beating around the bush, she blurted out the truth. "Collis Dongan has been found shot dead in his rooms, and you are accused of having done it."
"What!" he cried with so perfect an expression of astonishment that Pen's breast was warmed and comforted. No guilty man could possibly have simulated that look. She had not doubted him, nevertheless it was sweet to be reassured. The tears sprang to her eyes; she hung her head to hide them. He did not notice them. He was dazed.
"Collis Dongan dead!" he muttered. "When ... How?"