"About four yards," replied Mr. Stobell. "And now look here; if you want to know any more, you go and see Mr. Chalk. I'm sick and tired of the whole business. And you'd no right to talk about it while we were away."
"I've got the paper you signed and I'm going to know the truth," said Miss Vickers, fiercely. "It's my right. What was the size of the island?"
Mr. Stobell maintained an obstinate silence.
"What colour did you say these 'ere Fidgetty islanders was?" inquired Mr. Vickers, with truculent curiosity.
"You get out," roared Stobell, rising. "At once. D'ye hear me?"
Mr. Vickers backed with some haste towards the door. His daughter followed slowly.
"I don't believe you," she said, turning sharply on Stobell. "I don't believe the ship was wrecked at all."
Mr. Stobell sat gasping at her. "What?" he stammered. "W h-a-a-t?"
"I don't believe it was wrecked," repeated Selina, wildly. "You've got the treasure all right, and you're keeping it quiet and telling this tale to do me out of my share. I haven't done with you yet. You wait!"
She flung out into the hall, and Mr. Vickers, after a lofty glance at Mr. Stobell, followed her outside.