"Then make haste. An hour hence the Ray house will be closed, and the girl and her mother in bed."
"I will get my boat and row thither at once."
"You need not do that. I have my boat here; jump in. We will each take an oar, and I will land you on the Ray."
"You take a great interest in my affairs."
"I take a very great interest in them," said Rebow dryly.
"Lead the way, then."
"Follow me."
Rebow walked forward, over the shingle towards his boat, then suddenly turned, and asked in a suppressed voice. "Do you know whither you are going?"
"To the Ray."
"To the Ray, of course. Is there anyone on the Hard?"
"Not a soul. Had I not better go to my mother before I start and say that I am going with you?"
"On no account. She will not allow you to go to the Ray. You know she will not."
De Witt was not disposed to dispute this.
"You are sure," asked Rebow again, "that there is no one on the Hard. No one sees you enter my boat. No one sees you push off with me. No one sees whither we go."
"Not a soul."
"Then here goes!" Elijah Rebow thrust the boat out till she floated, sprang in and took his oar. De Witt was already oar in hand on his seat.
"The red curtain is over the window at the Leather Bottle," said George. "No signalling to-night, the schooner is in the offing."
"A red signal. It may mean more than you understand."
They rowed on.
"Is there a hand on that crimson pane," asked Rebow in a low tone, "with the fingers dipped in fire, writing?"
"Not that I can see."
"Nor do you see the writing, Mene, mene, tekel, Upharsin."
"You jest, Elijah!"
"A strange jest. Perhaps the writing is in the vulgar tongue, thou art weighed and found wanting, feeble fool, and thy kingdom is taken from thee, and given to ME."
