"Been here long keeping Barbara company?" he asked, while his twinkling eyes--how unlike hers! Reginald thought--glistened maliciously. "We don't often get visitors here."
"Indeed," Reginald replied; "I have heard differently. I was told in Tortola that curiosity about the strange history of your island brought many people here. And, having a little yacht which I have hired and being a sailor myself, I ventured to pay a visit."
"Sailor, eh? What line? American and--but, there, it's easy enough to see you're a Britisher. What is it? Royal Mail, eh?"
"I am in the Royal Navy. A lieutenant. And my name's Crafer."
"Crafer, eh? and in the Royal Navy? I don't think much of the Royal Navy myself. A damned sight too condescending in their ways, as a rule, are the gentlemen in your line--that is, when they take any notice of you at all. Well, if you're going to stay I hope you're not like that. And my name's Alderly--Joseph Alderly. That's good enough for me."
"I certainly did hope to stay a little longer. I am on leave and like cruising about."
"Your boat's in the river, you say?"
"Yes."
"Why don't you live in it instead of in this house, then? Or at Tortola, where there is a hotel? In some of the islands hereabouts my sister would get a bad name if it was known she was entertaining young English officers all alone."
At his words Reginald sprang to his feet, Barbara also rising, her hazel eyes, that were usually so soft and innocent, flashing indignant glances at her brutal brother.