It was a white launch of fine lines, with a broad band of scarlet round it just below the gunwale. She could make out the name Diana near the bow. There was only one person in it and she recognized him immediately, despite the fact that his dark head was almost hidden under a slouch hat.
Very much alive now, she watched him make for the boathouse. Half-way across the little bay he turned his head suddenly, looking straight where she crouched. She ducked again, hoping he had not seen her. She saw him run the launch into the shed, shut the doors, go up the steps and vanish in the trees. She wondered if anyone lived there with him. She wondered if he were now back from the coast for good. She wondered if it was from this peaceful place that he had been for the past year sending out the fine stories of lost men that had been among the best things he had ever done.
As she speculated she raised her head, listening. Before she could get to her feet the figure of a Chinese boy cleared the bushes. She stared at him in amazement for a second. Then she remembered that one of the things accounted to Dane Barrington for a suspiciously excessive love of luxury was the fact that he kept Chinese servants.
“Please, miss, you trespass,” said the boy, bowing low.
“Trespass,” she repeated quickly getting to her feet.
“Yes, miss. You please to go away.”
Just for a minute she was furious, and the boy’s eyes fell before hers.
“Whose land is this?” she unnecessarily demanded.
“It is Meester Barrington, miss.”
“Did he send you?”
“Yes, miss.”
Her eyes gleamed. “All right. You give Mr. Barring
