oars struck the water smartly and
forced the tender forward into the beating wind. They made a choppy
passage to the rim of the bay, where, turning, they followed the thin,
pale glimmer of the broken water on the land's edge. Halvard pulled
with short, telling strokes, his oarblades stirring into momentary
being livid blurs of phosphorescence.

John Woolfolk guided the boat about the point where he had first seen
Millie swimming. He recalled how strange her unexpected appearance had
seemed. It had, however, been no stranger than the actuality which had
driven her into the bay in the effort to cleanse the stain of Iscah
Nicholas' touch. Woolfolk's face hardened; he was suddenly conscious
of the cold weight in his pocket. He realized that he would kill
Nicholas at the first opportunity and without the slightest
hesitation.

The tender passed about the point, and he could hear more clearly the
sullen clamor of the waves on the seaward bars. The patches of green
sky had grown larger, the clouds swept by with the apparent menace of
solid, flying objects. The land lay in a low, formless mass on the
left. It appeared secretive, a masked place of evil. Its influence
reached out and subtly touched John Woolfolk's heart with the
premonition of base treacheries. The tormented trees had the sound of
Iscah Nicholas sobbing. He must take Millie away immediately; banish
its last memory from her mind, its influence from her soul. It was the
latter he always feared, which formed his greatest hazard--to tear
from her the tendrils of the invidious past.

The vague outline of the ruined wharf swam forward, and the tender
slid into the comparative quiet of its partial protection.

"Make fast," Woolfolk directed. "I shall be out of the boat for a
while." He hesitated; then: "Miss Stope will be here; and if, after an
hour, you hear nothing from me, take her out to the ketch for the
night. Insist on her going. If you hear nothing from me still, make
the first town and report."

He mounted by a cross pinning to the insecure surface above; and,
picking his way to solid earth, waited. He struck a match and,
covering the light with his palm, saw that it was ten minutes before
eight. Millie, he had thought, would reach the wharf before the hour
he had indicated. She would not at any cost be late.

The night was impenetrable. Halvard was as absolutely lost as if he
had dropped, with all the world save the bare, wet spot where Woolfolk
stood,