Followed by the stares of the sailors, she came up the deck toward the old man and his daughter, who had arisen, the Indian girl clinging to her sleeve, the tall breed striding noiselessly behind. Willis Marsh came with them, his white lips writhing, his face like putty. He made futile detaining grasps at Constantine, and in the silence that suddenly descended upon the ship, they heard him whispering.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Mr. Wayland.
"I heard you were about to sail, so I came out to see you before—"
Marsh broke in, hoarsely: "She's a bad woman! She has come here for blackmail!"
"Blackmail!" cried Wayne Wayland. "I thought as much!"
"That's her game. She wants money!"
Cherry shrugged her shoulders and showed her white teeth in a smile.
"Mr. Marsh anticipates slightly. You may judge if he is right."
Marsh started to speak, but Mildred Wayland, who had been watching him intently, was before him.
"Who sent you here, Miss?"