The four people rose from their belated meal at half past ten. A sailor
came from the _Aphrodite_ in response to a message sent by Stump
announcing Miss Fenshawe's return. The jolly-boat was waiting to take
them on board, he said, and they walked to the jetee, escorted by the
whole body of gens d'armes who had mounted guard at the hotel.
The long pull across the starlit waters of the harbor was peculiarly
refreshing and restful after the thrilling events of the day. Irene
said with a laugh that it was almost worth while being kidnapped for
the sake of becoming a heroine, and Mr. Fenshawe yielded to the
soothing influence of the hour in expressing the opinion that he
expected to hear of the Baron's unconditional release early next day.
"By the way," said the girl, speaking to the boatswain, "how was Mrs.
Haxton when you left the yacht?"
"She was all right, miss, when I saw her about nine o'clock. She was
just goin' ashore--"
"Going ashore!" For the life of her, Irene could not help the blank
wonderment of that repetition.
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