A kiskadee bird, the only other creature foolish
enough to risk the hot bleakness of the plaza at that hour,
flitted into a dust-coated palm, inspected him, put a tentative
query or two, decided that he was of no possible interest, and
left the Unspeakable Perk to his own cogitations.
So deep in wretchedness were the cogitations that he did not hear
the light, hesitant footstep. But he felt in every vein and fiber
the appealing touch on his shoulder.
"Good God! What are YOU doing here?" he cried, leaping to his
feet. There was no awkwardness or shyness in his speech now; only
wonder-stricken joy.
"I came back to see you."
"But the yacht! Your ship!"
"She has left."
"No! She mustn't! Not without you! You can't stay here. It's too
dangerous."
"I must. They think I'm aboard. I left a note for papa. He won't
get it until they're at sea. And they can't come back for me, can
they?"
"No--yes--they must! I must see Stark and Wisner at once."
"To send me away?"
"Yes."
"Without forgiving me?"
"Forgiving? There's no question of that between you and me."
"There is. Fitzhugh told me everything--all about the poor dead
woman.
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