“Look out for those men. They’re dangerous. We’ve nearly got them three times. They escaped us. Can’t find out where they stay.”
Pearl thought of the face-in-the-fire, and old Fort Skammel. Her heart gave a great bounce, but she said nothing.
“How do you know such things?” she asked after a moment.
He leaned far forward. “I’ll tell you something, but you must not repeat it.”
“I won’t.”
“Well, then, I’m a Secret Service man.” Her heart bounced again. She had read books about such men, and they were thrilling and scarey.
“Thanks,” she said. “I won’t tell. And I—I’ll help if I can. It’s my country.”
“That’s the spirit. Come to me anytime you have a thing to tell.”
A fish took her bait. She pulled him in. When she looked up, the man was gone.
Late that evening Betty returned from her yachting party. She had had a glorious time, had traveled aboard the most marvelous yacht, all shining brass and mahogany, satin cushions and lace curtains. She had had as her traveling companions such notable people as she had never hoped to know. A senator, a great yachtsman, a wonderful actress and a real poet had been in the party. For all this she found herself over and over longing to be back at the island where she might confide her marvelous secret to those who had a right to know.