Doctor Garnet, seeing the effect made upon the girl by the conclusion of the story, did not approach her or try to relieve her, as had been his wont. At the moment he felt himself too low, too despicable, to lay his hands on this fair girl, even as a physician. Moreover, he knew that it would not be long ere she recovered her calm. Indeed, only a few minutes elapsed before Ethel had passed through the crisis of her emotion. Her mind clear again, she stared at the man with an unconcealed repugnance, under which he cringed. She thought with dismay of the dreadful thing Doctor Garnet had done. She even wondered now with new distress as to what her friends must have thought concerning her secret departure. It seemed to her that the truth was too fantastic a thing to be credited by the world at large. It would scoff at this explanation of a young girl's sailing for days with a man, practically alone, on her own yacht. She shuddered at thought of the slanders sure to be her portion. How her father would grieve over this disgrace of his daughter! How Roy——Appalled, she thrust the terrifying thought from her mind.... And there was the murder of the caretaker! Would the public not believe her an accomplice, by consent at least, in that forcible holding of him to the engine?

Ethel's thoughts veered to Roy again. But, now, there was something of comfort in her musing. It occurred to her that he at least would believe the truth, though all the rest of the world should mock at it as a lie. Besides, there was the message she had thrown into the sea for him, which she had seen picked up by the fisherman. There was no doubt in her mind now that Roy had received it. There came a little glow of courage in her heart as she reflected that even at this very moment he was searching desperately for her.... Had she been outside the cabin just then, she might have seen the lights of The Hialdo, on which her lover was being carried to Beaufort, there to receive the news of her having left Ichabod's Island alive.

A new courage for herself left her free to feel compassion toward the miserable being who had done her such grievous wrong. She could guess in some measure from the man's lined and haggard face and twitching body how great was his suffering and remorse. From the fact that he had made such a full confession of his guilt, she knew that he would make every restitution in his power. Sympathy for him, added to sympathy for herself, proved too much for her self-restraint. Woman-like, she hid her face in her arms outstretched on the table, and wept.

After a little while, the fit of weeping ended. The girl brushed away the tears, and again sat erect. Then, for a long time, neither she nor the man opposite her moved or spoke. What, indeed, was there for her to say to him who had made her his victim? She had not the heart to reproach him. She could find no word of comfort. It seemed to her that there could be no assuagement of his misery—that he were better dead. If he lived, he must be a fugitive from justice, or, if captured, he must be tried and condemned for murder. Or he might end his days in a mad-house. Surely, death were preferable.

But Ethel knew that Doctor Garnet, despite her earlier belief, was not mad. Notwithstanding the tortures he endured, his narrative to her had revealed a mind lucid and sane. She wondered suddenly if, after all, it might be possible somehow to save him from the law's penalty? Yet, the damning evidence of the murdered man in the wreck of the yacht could not be concealed. The consequence of it would be that there could be no safety for the guilty one—at least on this continent.

That last phrase brought inspiration to the girl. There flashed into her mind a thought of another continent, where death was riding ruthless over countless thousands. There, under a new identity, this miserable creature might return to his manhood, might once again exercise his great skill in behalf of suffering humanity, might indeed atone for the past, might win a martyr's crown.... If he could but be smuggled out of the country!

It was hours past midnight now; a ghostly trace of dawn showed in the eastern sky. The physician, it was evident, was fighting desperately against the anguish induced by his abstinence after over-indulgence in the drug. But, presently, he noted through the open doorway the lightening of the horizon. Once again, now, he spoke to Ethel.

"Miss Marion, it's near daylight and the wind is still holding to the same course it was blowing yesterday. I see little chance of getting away from this place until there is a change. It is, I should judge, about twenty miles to Portsmouth. With your permission, I shall set out for there at once, in order to procure a boat and then return to you. I'm sure that I can make it. I shall be spurred on by two of the strongest incentives: one is my anxiety in your behalf; the other—for I shall be frank with you—is my anxiety to reach a physician. I know that unless I can secure relief within a few hours I shall become insane."

He paused for a moment, and then added in a voice surcharged with emotion:

"This has been a terrible night. It was a horrible ordeal for me to make my confession to you. But now I feel the better for it. I have fought my hardest to retain my self-control, and I have succeeded thus far. Now, if you can only continue to be brave for a few hours, I'll have you safely on your way home."

"But do you consider that you are equal to the trip, Doctor?" Ethel inquired doubtfully. "Twenty miles is a long, long distance for one in your state of body and mind. Oh, how I wish my ankle was fit, so that I could stand the journey! But, of course, you most certainly have my permission, Doctor Garnet. That is, on one condition."

"And what is that condition, Miss Marion?"

"I want you to go under sealed instructions. I shall write these out and give them to you, but you must not read them until you have gone ten miles up the shore. Before you answer, let me tell you that in those instructions you will find nothing but what is to the best interests of both yourself and me."

"I owe you every obedience," the Doctor declared instantly, though there was a note of astonishment in his voice. "It shall be as you wish."

At her request, Doctor Garnet provided Ethel with his fountain-pen and some pages torn from his memorandum-book. She wrote her instructions hurriedly, folded them and gave them to the physician, who bestowed them in his coat-pocket. Then, with a short word of farewell, he set forth on his journey, while the girl, standing in the doorway, looked after him with brooding eyes. When he had disappeared from view, she seated herself on the doorstep and mused for a long time on the curious adventures through which she had passed, and of which the end was not yet come. She felt a great content over being thus alone, gladdened by a sheer relief at the absence of the Doctor. She no longer felt any fear, and presently she limped across to the bunk that had been prepared for her, where she quickly fell asleep on Ichabod's blankets. When at last she awoke, it was after a sound slumber of some hours, for the sun was now high in the heavens. She found herself greatly refreshed, and a desire came on her for the added refreshment of a plunge into the sea. There was no sign of a human being anywhere within sight, so she undressed and entered the water.

When her bath was ended, and she was again clothed, Ethel found a stick to serve her as a cane, and with its aid made a halting ascent of one of the sand dunes. She was surprised and pleased at the manifest improvement in her ankle. There remained little pain, even when her weight bore upon it in walking, and the swelling was greatly reduced, so that she was able partly to button her shoe over it. From the crest of the sand dune, she was able to look out over a wide expanse of the waters all round-about.

To the eastward, she could see for miles out over the bosom of the Atlantic. Far away in the distance, she saw a large steamer headed toward the north. At sight of it, she was swept with a sick longing to be on board, bound back to home and lover. Scattered over the surface of the Sound were visible many small sails of the fishing boats, darting to and fro, many skirting the shore. These were, however, located far away to the southwest, miles distant from where she stood. It was evident that, for the time being at least, there would be no opportunity to signal for help. A sudden realization of hunger drove her back to the shack.

Ethel gathered sticks from the shore for the rusty ramshackle stove. She lighted them with matches brought from the tender. Soon she had water boiling for coffee, and presently, with the remnants left from Mrs. Goodwin's supply, the girl was able to make a meal that seemed wonderfully savory to her sharpened appetite.

As the day lengthened, Ethel's mind busied itself with the problem of finding a means to signal her presence. There was always the possibility of the physician's failure to reach his destination. Prudence demanded that she herself should make every effort possible for relief. From her reading, she remembered how shipwrecked castaways in similar plight had used a shirt or any white garment as a flag of distress. She saw a net-pole lying on the strand, which, she believed, she could drag to the top of the sand dune, in spite of her ankle's weakness. Her muslin petticoat would serve as the banner. The idea no sooner presented itself than she proceeded to its execution. The moving and the erection of the heavy pole taxed her strength to the utmost, but it was at last accomplished, and its white flag fluttered bravely in the light breeze. Ethel looked with pride on her achievement, and dared to believe that her father, could he have seen her now, would have praised her courage and resourcefulness. She felt oddly like a soldier who has scaled the wall in the face of the enemy, and planted his flag in triumph on the rampart—though hers was a flag of truce. She surveyed her work complacently, though every muscle was aching from long-continued digging in the shifting sand with her bare hands and the tramping it into firmness about the pole.

When again she glanced out over the Sound, Ethel saw off to the northward a small skiff sailing toward her. Even at this distance, she was sure that it was approaching her refuge. It was evident that her signal had been seen. She sat down, and stared eagerly. She felt suddenly faint in the reaction of joy over the prospect of rescue. Then, a minute later, the castaway was forgotten in the woman. She hastily pulled her signal banner from the pole, wadded it under her arm, and hurried down the dune to the hut. Having accomplished its extraordinary purpose so valiantly, the white flag should now disappear to perform its ordinary useful service.

And as the signal banner came down, there sounded a clarion note, as if of victory, from the crest of a neighboring sand dune. It was the crowing of Shrimp, still bold to challenge the world.

But Ethel gave no heed to the bird that had been her companion for a time in misfortune. It occurred to her that she ought not to go away from this place in such fashion as to leave Doctor Garnet to worry over her fate, should he return and find her gone. She decided that she would offer her rescuers a sufficient payment to wait throughout the day for his return, before taking their departure.

Now, the boat was putting in at some little distance up the shore. But there could be no doubt that a landing was intended, for the little sail had been lowered, and one of the men was sculling toward the beach with an oar.