XX
TEMPERAMENTAL
Seldom, perhaps, has an habitation been so unceremoniously vacated as was the
solitary farm-house on that isolated island. Whitaker delayed only long enough
to place a bill, borrowed from Ember, on the kitchen table, in payment for what
provisions they had consumed, and to extinguish the lamps and shut the door.
Ten minutes later he occupied a chair beneath an awning on the after deck of the
yacht, and, with an empty glass waiting to be refilled between his fingers and a
blessed cigar fuming in the grip of his teeth, stared back to where their rock of
refuge rested, brooding over its desolation, losing bulk and conformation and swiftly blending into a small dark blur upon the face of the waters.
"Ember," he demanded querulously, "what the devil is that place?"
"
