The bushes stirred at last and the bow of a boat pushed through. Smith stood up so that his face was just below mine. His finger was on his lips.
"Couldn't come any sooner, sir. Captain Bothwell was leaning over the rail smoking a cigarette. I wonder he didn't see your handkerchief," he whispered.
I gave him orders concisely and the men backed the boat till the bushes hid them. For me there was nothing left to do but wait. How long it might be before Blythe would get back with a rescue party I could not tell. The men in the boat would not dare to stir from their hiding-place until the moon went under a cloud.
The tide must now be at the full, so that it would be running out strong before they got started. This would carry them swiftly back to the bay.
I found myself giving my friends two hours as a minimum before they could return to me. At the worst they should be here within four, unless my messenger met with bad luck.
But what about Bothwell? Would he force my hand before Blythe arrived? I thought it very likely. There is something in the tropical air that calls to the passion of a man, and reduces his sense of law till restraint ebbs away.
In Bothwell's case desire and interest went together. He was a criminal on more than one count, but the charges against him would in a measure fall to the ground if he could drive Evie to marry him.
Once she was his wife the kidnaping charge would not stick, and even his black record on the Argos could be made to appear the chivalry of a high-minded man saving the woman he loved from her enemies.
Moreover, his claim to the treasure would then be a valid one. The man was no fool. What he did must be done quickly. There lay before him one safe road. Since that was the path he desired above all things to follow, it was sure he would set out on it without delay.
Her scruples had hitherto held him back, because it would be better she should come of her own accord to him. But these could not hold him many hours longer.