I bent down and kissed her once,—twice,—on those soft and yielding upturned lips.
With terrifying suddenness, something crashed against my front window and broken glass clattered on the floor.
A great hand and arm shot through the opening and tore my window blind in strips from its roller. And then the hand and arm were withdrawn.
In the visual illusion caused by the strong light inside and the deep darkness without, we saw nothing but that great hand and arm.
I sprang up and rushed to the door, followed by Rita.
There was no sign of any one about. I ran round the house, and scanned the bushes; I went down on to the beach, then across the bridge over the creek, but I failed to detect the presence of any man.
I came back to Rita to ease her mind, and found her anxious yet wonderfully calm.
"George!—you need not tell me,—it was Joe. I know his hand and arm when I see them. He is up to something.
"Oh! You must be careful. Promise me you will be careful?"
I gave her my word, then I set her in her boat for home, asking her to wait for a moment until I should return.