He was still sitting there cramped and stiff when the first faint flush of dawn stole over the hill-crest behind him. Then he rose to wander toward the water-front. As the harbor assumed definite form, he beheld a launch stealing in toward the village, and ten minutes later greeted Stephen Cortlandt as that gentleman stepped out of the tender.
"Where's Edith?" eagerly demanded her husband.
"She's asleep. I found a place for her—"
"Not at the SANITARIUM?"
"No, no. One of these houses. Lord, I'm glad to see you! We'd begun to feel like real castaways. I've been up all night."
"What happened?" It was plain that Mr. Cortlandt was deeply agitated.
"Our boatmen evidently got drunk and pulled out. I tried to get a sail-boat, but there weren't any, and it was too rough to try crossing with a skiff."
It took them but a moment to reach the house, and soon the three were back at the water-front.
"What a miserable night!" Mrs. Cortlandt complained, stifling a yawn.
"I thought you'd never come, Stephen!"
"I didn't get back to the Tivoli until midnight, and then I had trouble in finding a boat to bring me over."