They followed the shore for a while and presently a bend in its contour hid their view of the unfriendly harbor. It was an aimless journey. They were safe from the revenge of the young man in white flannels, but they were as far as ever from any project of rescue. Mary swam in a listless, automatic fashion; there was no longer any zest of sport. She was not tired, but her enthusiasm had oozed away. As for Pete, he also felt that there had been enough swimming for a day.

"Shall we try that place in there?" she asked, lifting her arm above the water and pointing.

"I'm for it," he answered, with a nod. "I'm not going to be a poor fish any longer. I don't care if they meet us with a shotgun committee."

Their second landing place was devoid of a beach, but it had shelving, sunwarmed rocks, upon which they climbed out and sat down.

"I never suspected you were a fighter," observed Mary, the recent picture still fresh in memory.

"I'm not. I'm a baseball player, by rights. That was what they call the hit-and-run play."

"Well, I think you did excellently, Peter. I was just getting ready to do something like that myself. Was his nose bleeding?"

"Here's hoping. While I don't claim to be within a mile of Signor Antonio Valentino's class, I have a fixed impression that by this time the young gentleman has a beak like a pelican."

Mary glanced appreciatively at her knight. "I'm glad Mr. Marshall wasn't there," she said.

"Why?"

"If he had hit him the young man would probably be dead, and then we'd have lots of trouble."

"Now, that," said Pete, in an aggrieved tone, "is what I call ungrateful. I hit the bird as hard as I could, didn't I? I don't see any need of dragging the boss into this, by way of comparison. Of course, if you can't get him out of your head——"

"Nonsense! He's not in my head. I said I was glad he wasn't there, didn't I? And I explained why. I didn't mean to take any credit away from you at all. Don't be so sensitive. Are you hungry?"

Pete groaned.

"There! Now you've done it. I've been busy trying to forget it and you've deliberately made me remember it. Of course I'm hungry. If I don't eat I'm going to die."

"So am I."

Pete stood up and looked about him.

"I don't see any cocoanut palms or breadfruit trees," he said. "That's what we're supposed to live on, isn't it? I don't even see a drink of water. It's an awful come-down for a pair of Robinson Crusoes, but it looks as if I'd have to go to somebody's kitchen door and ask for a handout."

"Never," said Mary. "I'll starve first."

"I don't think that's a very clever revenge. I'm still pusillanimous enough to eat. I'll scout around."

"No!"

"But why not?"

"Because I feel ridiculous enough as it is," she declared, frowning at her costume.

"But I might be able to locate some of our society friends. We're supposed to have friends here, aren't we?"

"I wouldn't dream of appealing to them."

Pete shook his head helplessly.

"Do you expect to sit here for the rest of your life?"

"I don't care. I'm not going to humiliate myself any further. We might meet another man and——"

"But I'll soak him for you. Honest."

"We might meet several."

"It doesn't take you long to collect a crowd, does it?" he said. "You can invent whole armies right out of your head. Be cheerful and take it the other way around; we may not meet anybody at all."

But Mary wiggled her toes in the sun and shook her head.

"You stay here, then, and I'll reconnoiter."

"No! I don't intend to be left alone."

"Let's hoist a signal of distress, then. That's always been done and it's considered perfectly good form."

"No."

"All right. Starve!" Pete made no effort to hide exasperation.

"I don't believe you'd care if I did."

His only answer to that was a gesture of despair. Who was it who claimed to understand woman? Pete would have been glad to submit this one for analysis and report.

He sat with his knees drawn up under his chin, staring out at the harbor. He was hungry. He was thirsty. He wanted a cigarette. He wanted to stretch his legs. He wanted to do anything except remain glued to a rock, like a shellfish. Why did she have to be so fussy on the subject of conventions? He knew that many a martyr had died cheerfully for a cause. But did ever one die for a cause like this?

After half an hour of silence he was about to renew the argument when he discovered that she was asleep. She had curled herself up in a sunny hollow of the rocks, made a pillow out of an arm and become quite oblivious to Larchmont Harbor and all the world beyond and around it.

Pete arose cautiously. He climbed further up on the rocks, then paused to look back. She had not moved. He went still farther inshore, moving noiselessly on all fours, then straightened up and walked as briskly as a man may who is not innured to going barefoot in the rough places.

"If she wakes up, let her holler," he muttered. "I'm going to take a look around."

Half an hour later he was back again, munching an apple. He had several more that he placed on the rock beside Mary, who still slept as dreamlessly as a baby and who had not stirred during his absence. Pete regarded her with severe eyes.

"Shall I wake her? No. Let her sleep the sleep of starvation within arm's reach of food. Never was there any justice more poetic. If she wants to be stubborn let her find out what it is costing her. Perhaps I'd better eat all the apples. No; I won't do that. Then she'd never know what she missed. I might leave a little row of cores for her to look at. That's a good idea, but—oh, she'd murder me. I think she could be dangerous if she tried."

Mary did not look dangerous. She seemed more like a tired little child. Once she stirred, but did not awaken, although she smiled faintly.

"Dreaming of Bill," was Pete's comment. "Which reminds me: wonder where Bill is?"

Several yachts had entered the harbor; others had left. But although he made systematic survey of the entire anchorage there was no trace of the Sunshine. The sun disappeared, and there followed a perceptible cooling of the air. Pete reached mechanically for his watch, then remembered and laughed. The laugh awoke Mary.

She sat up in a daze, staring at him.

"We're in Larchmont, sitting on a rock and trying to be dignified in the midst of preposterous adversity," he reminded her. "Have an apple?"

She seized one and bit into it, then eyed him accusingly.

"You did go away, didn't you?"

"Oh, hear the woman! Certainly I did. I sneaked off as soon as you hit the hay. I'm not cut out for a martyr. But I notice you're not above accepting the fruits of my enterprise. Now, are you ready to be reasonable?"

"I'm always reasonable," she mumbled through a large mouthful.

"So? Well, listen, then: I have made discoveries."

Mary stopped chewing and stared expectantly.

"Those apples come from a toy orchard. The orchard is part of the backyard of a house. This place where we are sitting is part of the waterfront adjoining that house. So much I have learned by being cautious as well as intrepid. Do I bore you?"

"Hurry!" she commanded.

"In the other part of that backyard, nearest to the house, is something even more important than food. Can you guess?"

"Clothes?"

"Not exactly the word," said Pete. "It is better to say the week's wash. My dear seagoing secretary, there is wash enough in that backyard not only for you and me, but for the whole crew of the Sunshine, if they had happened to be cast away with us."

"Well, if there are clothes there, for Heaven's sake, why didn't you bring some? I'm getting chilly."

"Wash, I said; not clothes. You'll understand when you see. The reason I didn't bring any is simple: it was still broad daylight. Back in the orchard I had partial concealment among the trees, but I took chances, even there. To have invaded the raiment department would have been foolhardiness, for which I have never been celebrated. So I merely located the outfit and provided myself with food."

He glanced out at the harbor.

"In a very short time it will be twilight, and when twilight comes we will see what can be done to remove a rival from the path of Annette Kellerman."

Mary was too deeply interested in these disclosures to pay any attention to this reference to her present costume. He had brought a new hope into her life. Clothes at last! After that—well, clothes came first. Except, of course, the apples. She began to eat another.

Never had a twilight gathered so slowly. Just as she had been immovable before, now it was difficult to restrain her impatience. She was for starting at once.

"I'm getting chillier all the time," she complained.

"Patience," he counseled. "Give us fifteen minutes more. If you're cold you might spend the time doing setting-up exercises."

He took his own advice and began a series of exercises that were highly recommended to the pupils of Kid Whaley's gymnasium. Mary watched for awhile and then emulated him, so that two figures were presently engaged in an occupation that suggested nothing so much as a pair of railroad semaphores gone mad. Eventually they paused breathless.

"I think we'd better go," said Pete. "A man on that nearest yacht seems to be trying to answer us with a pair of wigwag flags. You didn't happen to be telegraphing him anything, did you?"

Mary squealed and began scrambling up the rocks.

"You'd better let me take the lead," he said. "I know the way. Follow close behind me and do whatever I do. If I flop down on my stomach, you flop. If I duck behind a tree, you duck. If I run, run."

"And if we get caught?" she asked.

"That's one thing we won't permit. Don't suggest it. Take to the water again, if it comes to that."

The ledge of rock along which they picked their way ended at a grassy bluff, where there was a grove of small evergreens. In among the trees Pete paused to look and listen. Then he beckoned her to follow. Dusk was thicker in the grove, and Mary felt more comfortable in its added security, although she hoped it would not be long before they came to the land of promised raiment. Pete moved stealthily and she imitated his caution.

They skirted along close to the edge of the bluff, keeping within the shelter of the evergreens. Through a vista she glimpsed a house, and pointed, but Pete shook his head. Evidently it was not the right one. Presently they arrived at a tall, thickly grown hedge.

He got down on all fours in front of it, thrust his head into an opening and, with a series of cautious wriggles, began to disappear from her sight. When he had completely vanished, Mary undertook to follow him. The hedge was rough and stiff, and the aperture through which he had passed was uncomfortably small. With head and shoulders through, she looked up and found him beckoning.

"It scratches awfully," she whispered.

"S-sh! Never mind the scratches."

She wriggled a few inches farther.

"Ouch! I'm afraid I'll tear——"

"Let it tear."

He seized her hand and dragged her completely through, mindless of her protest that she was being flayed.

"Don't talk so loudly," he warned. "You're in the orchard now. It's only a little way to the raiment. Remember: this is no deserted house. The folks are home. I'm banking on the fact that they're at dinner, and that the servants are busy. Come on."

He now began to advance by a series of short rushes, each rush taking him from the shelter of one tree to the next. Mary followed, establishing herself behind a tree as soon as he had vacated it. It seemed to her that the trees were intolerably meager in girth; she felt as if she were trying to hide behind a series of widely placed lead pencils. But the dusk was continuing to thicken, which was welcome consolation.

They were within easy view of the house now. It was something more than a house; it was a mansion, filled with innumerable windows, it seemed to Mary, and out of each window a pair of accusing eyes probably staring. Where the orchard left off there was an open space, and beyond that a yard full of fluttering garments, suspended from a clothes line. Between the yard and the house was another hedge, and Pete was counting upon that hedge as a screen.

They paused at the edge of the orchard.

"For the next few minutes we are in the hands of Providence," he whispered. "Want to come with me, or will you trust me to pick out a costume?"

"I—I'll trust you," said Mary.

"Stay right here, then. Here goes."

Out into the open, where there was still an ominous amount of daylight, dashed Bill Marshall's valet, bent as low as he could manage without sacrificing speed. Mary held her breath and watched. A few seconds and he vanished behind a white curtain that represented a part of the family wash.

To Mary it seemed that there was an interminable interval. Then, with a spooky flutter, the white curtain that hid him seemed to sink into the ground. Another instant and the flying figure of Pete Stearns was approaching. He seemed to be pursued by a long, white snake, writhing close at his heels. And then he was back in the shelter of the trees.

"Help pull on this!" he panted.

And Mary identified the white snake as a clothes line to which was attached garment after garment of ghostly hue. She seized the line and together they raced back toward the rear of the orchard, the snake following.

"Found a sickle and cut the whole line!" he explained. "Quickest way. Help yourself. I'll begin at the other end."

Mary was pulling clothes-pins as rapidly as she could make her fingers fly.

"Don't stop to choose anything here," he warned. "Take everything. We've got to beat it."

So they took everything. Pete made two hasty bundles, thrust one into her arms, picked up the other and started at a lope through the orchard, in a direction opposite to that from which they had come. They came to another hedge that was as forbidding as the one through which they had passed.

He dropped his bundle, dove half-way through the hedge, made a swift inspection of what lay beyond, and then hauled himself back again.

"It's all right," he said.

Picking up his bundle, he tossed it over the hedge. He seized Mary's and repeated.

"Now for you!"

Before she could protest, even had she been so minded, Pete was wedging her into a dense, prickly obstruction and ordering her to scramble with all her might. She landed head down on the other side of the hedge, and was picking herself up when he joined her.

He seized both bundles and started running again.

They were still among evergreens, but the property was evidently that of a neighbor. Pete had made an observation of it on his previous journey. He knew exactly where he was going. Right on the edge of the bluff, which still followed the line of the shore, stood a summer pavilion. Into its shadowy shelter he dashed, with Mary Wayne close behind.

"There!" he gasped, tossing the bundles to the floor. "Now doll yourself up."

Five minutes later she looked at him in dismay.

"Why, it's nothing but lingerie!" she exclaimed.

Pete was holding out a pair of silk pajamas at arm's length, for better inspection.

"What did you expect? A tailor-made suit?" he demanded. "I'm going to be satisfied with these."

"But lingerie! And it's——"

"Put on plenty of it and it'll keep you warm."

"You don't understand," she said. "Oh, we've done an awful thing!"

She spread out a long, lacy garment and viewed it with awe in her eyes.

"Do you know lingerie when you see it?" she demanded. "Why, this is so beautiful that I'm afraid of it. I never dared buy anything like this for myself."

"Is that's what worrying you?"

"But it's perishable—fragile! And I'm afraid I've torn some of it already. You're not a woman and you can't understand—but what I'm doing is almost a sacrilege. I feel like a vandal."

"Here's some more," said Pete, tossing additional articles out of his pile. "What do you care? Pile it on."

He discovered a second suit of pajamas as he rummaged further, and added them to his collection.

"Give you five minutes to dress," he said, as he stepped outside the summer-house, the pajamas tucked under his arm.

Pete dressed on the edge of the bluff, putting on one suit of pajamas over another, and keeping a wary eye for possible intruders. So concerned was he lest they be discovered that he was unaware, until he had finished dressing, that his outer covering consisted of the coat of one suit and the trousers of another. The coat was striped in purple and green, the trousers in a delicate shade of salmon pink. But the effect did not dismay him; rather, it appealed to his sense of color.

As he approached the summer-house he saw an apparition in the doorway. Mary Wayne had taken his advice; she had piled it on.

"Jehosaphat!" he exclaimed in a low voice. "You look like something out of Rider Haggard, or grand opera, or—— Why, you're barbaric!"

"Isn't it awful!" she whispered.

"Awful? Why, it's magnificent! You're not dressed—you're arrayed! You're a poem, a ballad—a romance! You're a queen of Egypt; you're something from the next world! You're—oh, baby!"

He spread his hands and salaamed.

"Hush, for Heaven's sake! I just can't wear this. It's impossible!"

"You're a hasheesh dream," he murmured.

Mary shook her head angrily.

"I've no shoes," she said. "And the stockings are not mates."

"You're a vision from heaven," said Pete.

"Shut up! Don't you see I'm no better off than I was before? Neither are you."

"We're warmer, anyhow."

"Oh, be sensible."

"And we're more beautiful," he added, stroking his silken coat.

"But we can't go anywhere in these things!" she cried. "We'll be arrested. We haven't any money. We'll be taken for lunatics. And then they'll find out we're thieves. And then—— Oh, I wish I'd never come on this awful trip!"

Pete shook off the spell of his gorgeous imagination.

"You're a hard lady to please," he said. "But I'll see what I can do. Go back in the summer-house and wait for me. If anybody bothers you, jump at them and do some kind of an incantation. They'll leave you alone, fast enough."

"Where are you going now?" she demanded.

"Well, having stolen a classy outfit of society lingerie for you, I'm now going to see if I can steal you a limousine."

"Peter! Don't you leave me here. Come back! I——"

But he was gone.