For a moment Fessenden could only stare. Then he gave a long whistle.

“This Maryland climate is—extraordinary!” he remarked to the horizon.

Miss Yarnell mounted the pair of steps from the cabin to the level of the cockpit, and seated herself on the lockers.

“I simply had to come,” she explained.

“Marvellous impulsion!”

“I’m not welcome, then?”

“I’m afraid you’ve guessed it.”

“Obstinate—man!”

“Artful—woman!”

“You are a very chilly person. I think I’ll begin to hate you pretty soon.”

“Really!”

“Now that I’m here, you might as well make the best of it. Please, sir, I’ll try to be very agreeable and entertaining, if you’ll only be kind to me.”

“You’d move a heart of stone, but mine’s a diamond. You’re always charming—I admit that freely—but I can’t consider that in this particular situation. No, no. ‘Off with your head; so much for Bolingbroke.’” He braced the wheel against his knee and began to haul in the sheet.

“You’re going back?”

“Yes.”

“To put me ashore?”

“Right, my lady.”

“Then you intend to sail off again to—to do what you like?”

“Humanly speaking, yes.”

In spite of the heeling deck she rose abruptly, her eyes wide and resolute.

“Mr. Fessenden, I’m going with you this afternoon, wherever you go. If you take me back to the landing, I won’t go on shore. You’ll have to use force, and I warn you I’ll resist, and I’m strong for a woman. I solemnly vow I’ll make a dreadful scene. And I’ll scream, and I can scream hideously!”

Her words were utterly convincing. He let go the sheet and stared. “By Jove! you are a terror. What in the world is all this about?”

“Never mind.”

“But you make me mind. Surely all this can’t be a mere freak on your part. Or is it a joke?”

“No. I’ve a reason for my—my very unlady-like conduct.”

“Strike out the adjective. But what’s the reason?”

“I’d rather not tell.” She resumed her seat, as if she thought the victory won. Her eyes dwelt on the lines of his powerful figure, well set off by his gray flannels. “You are a distinctly good-looking man, but obstinate.”

“And you’re a remarkably lovely girl, but eccentric; very—eccentric.”

“You don’t know my reasons.”

“I’ve asked for them.”

She laughed evasively. “Isn’t it about time to come about?” she said.

“It is. But how do you know that? Are you a witch?”

“In with the weather braces,” she commanded. “Stand by to tack ship! Ready about! Helm’s a-lee! Round we go, now. Make fast! All snug, sir.”

Accompanying her rather uncertain display of nautical language with a pull at the sheets that proved her strength, she gave Fessenden her assistance in bringing the Wisp before the wind.

Afterward there was silence between them for a long time. The knots slipped away under the keel of the little yacht, and she drew rapidly in toward land. Fessenden consulted his watch. It was half past five. He decided that it was time to land—time to send his unwelcome visitor away, and to keep his appointment with Betty for supper at White Cottage.

Miss Yarnell examined the little binnacle beside the wheel.

“Due east,” she said sombrely, “almost. If you go back to Sandywood, Mr. Fessenden, remember, I’ve given you fair warning.”

“Fear not, mademoiselle. Far be it from me to force you to try your screaming powers on me! I shudder at the thought. No, no. Do you see that cape two or three points south of east? Piney Point, it’s called. That’s the place I’m aiming for. Are you content?”

“Perfectly content.”

She met his puzzled frown with a faint smile. “You beat the Dutch,” he declared in an injured tone.

It was just six o’clock when the Wisp grounded gently on the sandy beach of Piney Cove. The westering sun flung red bands across the pine woods, here growing almost to the water’s edge.

Fessenden led a line ashore and made it fast to a convenient tree. “Now, Miss Yarnell,” he smiled, “the voyage is over. I’ll really have to ask you to leave me—with my thanks for a delightful afternoon, after all. If you follow the bay shore, you’ll be at Sandywood in half an hour, I fancy.”

She had joined him as he stood on the beach. “Thank you,” she said gravely, “but I’m going with you.”

“Really, this is rather—rather——”

“Impossible,” she supplied. “Yes, I’ll agree to anything you like to say of me, but, Mr. Fessenden, it’s very important for me to go with you—to your appointment.”

He stared, bewildered not only by her audacity, but by her apparent knowledge of his plans.

“Do you deny that you have an appointment with some one near here?” she demanded.

“I don’t deny it. But what if I have? This is too ridiculous! I don’t know how you know where I’m bound, but—I don’t want to be rude, Miss Yarnell—but even if you do know, I don’t see how it matters to you.”

“It does matter to me,” she said, sudden passion in her voice. “It matters terribly.”

Her suppressed excitement, her entire seriousness, could no longer be doubted.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “I think you must be making some mistake.”

“No, no. I don’t know exactly where you’re going, I admit, but I know who it is you’re going to see.”

He felt a baffling sense of amazement over an impossible situation. “Who is it, then?” he demanded.

“Please, please don’t let us mention names. But I know. Mr. Fessenden, I recognized the envelope that boy brought up yesterday.”

“The envelope? O-oh! You did?”

“Yes. I’ve seen that style of envelope too often not to know it. Now do you understand why I want to go with you?—why I must go?”

“I’m as much at sea as ever. Why?”

She flushed vividly. “If you really can’t guess, I—I can’t tell you.”

He stared at her helplessly, then tossed both hands in a gesture of despair. “I give it up. I give you up, in fact. You fairly make my head spin! It’s getting late, Miss Yarnell. I think you’ll find a path behind the grove.”

“I’m not going to Sandywood.”

“Then I’ll leave you in possession of the yacht. Good-night.”

He took off his cap smilingly, and, turning, walked rapidly inland. He had not gone half a dozen yards when he heard a light footstep behind him, and wheeled to find her at his very heels.

“I’m going with you.”

“You’ll dog me across country?” he asked incredulously.

She flushed painfully, but stood her ground. “I’m going with you,” she repeated.

“Oh, Lord!” he groaned. For a moment he eyed her rather malevolently. “Come back to the sloop, then. We’ll talk it over.”

She followed obediently as he clambered over the low rail of the Wisp.

“I don’t know what to make of you,” he complained.

“I hardly know what to make of myself.”

“If I had more time, I might be able to get at things.”

“You’d better simply take me with you.”

“Hum-m,” he said contemplatively.

They were standing side by side on the floor of the cockpit. He waved his hand toward the bay. “All this beautiful scenery ought to be good for your malady—whatever that may be. Look at that sunset, Miss Yarnell. Why, hello! What’s that? Dead into the sun! Can’t you see it?”

She peered beneath the arch of her hand to mark the point. At that moment her elbows were gripped as if by a giant. She felt herself lifted, then thrust firmly, although gently, downward into the little cabin.

It was all done in an instant. Fessenden slammed the double-doors deftly upon his prisoner and dropped the catch into the slot.

“Good-night,” he called reassuringly. He leaped ashore and hurried inland.