They were not serious, however, and leaving George Lechmere to
cover the rear, they started up the path; Dominique, as usual,
leading the way, Frank following behind him with Bertha, who had
hitherto not spoken a word.
"Am I dreaming?" she asked now, in a tone of bewilderment. "Is it
really you, Frank?"
"You are not dreaming, dear, and it is certainly I--Frank Mallett.
Now tell me how you got on."
"As well as might be, Frank, but it was a terrible time. Please do
not talk about it yet. But how is it that you are here? It seems a
miracle.
"Oh, how ill you are looking! And your arm is in a sling, too."
"That is nothing," he said; "merely a broken collarbone. As to my
looking ill, you must remember, I have had almost as anxious a time
as you."
"Then it was the Osprey, after all," she exclaimed, suddenly, "that
we saw the last day that we were out sailing. We were on deck, and
I was not noticing--I did not notice much then--when Anna said to
me, 'That looks like an English yacht, miss. I am sure Mr. Carthew
thinks she is chasing us.'
"Then I got up and looked round. I could not see for certain, but
it did look like a yacht, and I thought that it was about the size
of the Osprey.
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