How funny of
him; they knew I was coming right back."
She sat down on a pile-head and began humming to herself as she counted
over her packages and added up her expenditure. She looked up presently,
and saw Ken walking toward her. He was alone. Even then, it was a whole
second before there came over her a hideous, sickening rush of fear.
She flew to meet him. "Where's the boat--_Ken_, where's the boat?"
"The boat? I left her temporarily tied up. What's the mat--" At that
moment he saw the empty gray water at the pier head. Two breathless
voices spoke together:
"Where's Kirk?"
"He was in the boat," Felicia gasped hoarsely. "I ran back after the
groceries."
Ken was at the end of the wharf in one agonized leap. In another second
he had the frayed, wet end of rope in his hand.
"That salvaged line!" he said. "Phil, couldn't you _see_ that only her
stern line was made fast? I left her half-moored till I came back. That
rope was rotten, and it got jammed in here and chafed till it parted."
"It's my fault," Felicia breathed.
"Mine," Ken snapped. "Oh, my heavens! look at the fog!"
"And the tide?" Felicia hardly dared ask.
"Going out--to sea."
A blank, hideous silence followed, broken only by the reiterated warning
of the dismal siren at the lighthouse.
"It's like looking for a needle in a haystack. A boat would have to comb
every foot of the bay in this fog, and night's coming. How long have you
been gone?"
Felicia looked at her watch.
Pages:
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116