Her eyes were fixed on the open port-hole. Through that port-hole the lagoon was visible; so was Haltren, wading shoreward, a solitary figure against the fringed rampart of the wilderness.
“Is Mrs. Castle better?” asked Darrow.
“I think so; I think she is asleep,” said the girl, calmly.
There was a pause; then Darrow took the tumbler and stirred the contents.
“Do you know who it was that got us out of that pickle?”
“Yes,” she said; “my husband.”
“I suppose you could hear what we said on deck.”
There was no answer.
“Could you, Kathleen?”
“Yes.”