“She must have got out to stretch her legs,” I said.
“Yes—God, look!” panted Napier. “What the devil! What?”
Hugo’s voice, Shirley’s, Guy’s.
Napier and I were in the canoe. Iris’s white dress lay anyhow over the cushions in the middle, over the watches and rings. I stumbled over her shoes.
“Oh!” sobbed Shirley. “Something’s happened!”
“Naps, what is it?” snapped Guy from the water.
“Iris—I say, she must have changed her mind and gone in!”
“Stuff, changed her mind! Gone in after Venice, you mean!”
“Iris! Iris!” Hugo called. We all called.
“But where’s Venice?” Shirley screamed just as Napier plunged in again.