“Keep the money,” she insisted. “You made the agreement and you must stand by it. Why do you object to taking me to the Burnett yacht?”
The man muttered something about “a bad omen” which she failed to understand.
“Come, don’t try to tell me there’s any silly superstition about that boat,” she declared impatiently. “Will you take me there or must I call the authorities?”
At mention of the police, the man grew even more agitated. He looked first toward The Flora and then at Madge. After a moment’s indecision, he picked up the oars and without a word, rowed away from the dock.
It struck Madge that she might be doing a foolish thing to trust herself to a strange boatman, particularly one who acted so queerly. However, she felt there was no real danger as long as they were within sight of other boats anchored in the bay.
Madge had never been one to forego an adventure for the sake of caution. Perhaps her life in the north woods had taught her resourcefulness and courage. At any rate, since the death of her mother and the strange disappearance of her father, she had learned to look out for herself. Since childhood she had made her home with her Uncle George and Aunt Maude Brady, and many pleasant summers had been spent at their fishing lodge on Loon Lake, Canada. There she had made friends with Anne Fairaday, an orphan living at Stewart Island. This acquaintance had plunged her into an exciting hunt for a hidden paper, the story of which is related in the first volume of the Madge Sterling series, entitled, “The Missing Formula.”
At Loon Lake she had met Jack French, a handsome young forest ranger, who, in taking leave of her on the eve of her trip to Cheltham Bay, had warned her that before the summer ended she might see him again.
Madge had been elated at the thought of spending a vacation aboard the Burnett yacht. Enid was the daughter of a noted sportsman and collector of antiques, and since the death of her mother had been permitted to grow up much as she pleased. Notwithstanding, she was a cheerful, friendly sort of girl, not in the least spoiled.
During the tedious trip across the bay, Madge had ample opportunity to study the face of her boatman. He avoided her glance, yet when she looked away, she could feel his eyes upon her.
“He must be a Hindu,” she thought uncomfortably. “At least, I’m sure he’s from India.”