“I’m afraid, Mr. Johnson,” she said slowly, “that that is impossible.”
“Impossible? You mean there’s no way of getting across? I thought you said something about a motor boat—has anything gone wrong with it?”
“I don’t mean that, Mr. Johnson. I mean that you must remain here. To be frank—I have my instructions.”
“Instructions! And from whom?” he demanded curtly.
The girl looked at him steadily. “You must not ask. It is too late now for you to back out. You should have thought of the risks you ran before you came up here on this errand.”
“I have no wish to back out of anything,” he exclaimed shortly. “And as for risks, I told you before that I am willing to take them. But my mind is made up on one thing—I’m going back to the mainland now!”
He made as if to pass her in the doorway.
She stepped aside, her eyes fixed smilingly on his.
“You may go,” she said. “I wish you a pleasant swim.”
“But the motor boat,” Bill cried, exasperated. “I intend to use that motor boat, though I have to run her myself.”