Seizing his coat and hat, he donned them hurriedly, left his room, stepped out of the hotel by a rear entrance, made a tour of the thickly wooded grounds, until at last, from his hiding-place among the trees, he could gain an excellent view of the brilliantly lighted piazza, himself unseen.
His surmise had been but only too true.
Mad with jealous rage, Varrick turned on his heel.
He rushed down the path to the water's edge. A little boat was skimming over the water, heading for the very spot where he stood. Its occupant, a sturdy young fisherman, was just about to secure it to an iron ring, when Varrick approached him.
"I should like to hire your boat for an hour," he said, huskily.
Varrick wanted to get away, to be by himself to think.
The bargain was made with the man, and with a few strokes from his muscular arms the little skiff was soon whirling out into the deep waters of the bay. Then he rested on his oars and floated down with the tide.
Suddenly a clear and yet shrill voice broke upon his ear.
"Halloo! Halloo there! Won't you come to my rescue, please?"
Varrick could hear the girlish voice plainly enough, but he could not imagine whence it came.