and cruel—if—if" Agitation overcame her; she failed of coherency and could get no further with her meaning.
"Well," Platter said presently, "we don't know. Somebody might 'a' picked him up." But he gulped as he said it; and he added, "Of course it does begin to look kind of queer."
"And they—they'll blame us?"
For reply, he made an ominous motion with his head, not trusting his voice; and with that, Claire's weeping became an audible sobbing. Platter sat silent, still gazing at the cushion and paddle; but after a time this inaction became intolerable to him. He took a boat hook from its fastenings; and with a little difficulty got the paddle and cushion aboard. Then his passenger asked brokenly, "What you—what you doing that for?"
"We got to," he answered. "We got to take 'em to—to his family."
She protested. "I can't! I just can't! Have we got to?"
"Yes," he said doggedly. "We got to." He stared with sombre eyes at the blue coastline; then drawing a long breath, he pushed forward the clutch lever, and slowly advanced the throttle. The Caliph moved
