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JOAN TRENT'S STORY
27

It occurred to him that the girl looked younger and fresher; as though she had had the first sound night's rest for some time. She was much more cheery than on the previous day, and this, he shrewdly suspected, was because she felt the advantage of having some one handy to protect her. Several times, however, she scanned the shimmering sea, in the direction of the island twenty miles away to the south, with an anxious expression, and Keith knew it was her brother she was thinking about. In view of what had happened during the night Keith, too, felt an interest in the planter's return, for Trent certainly ought to be informed that murder had been attempted in the bungalow where he had left his sister.

"Have you any special reason to expect him back to-day?" Keith quietly asked her as, for the tenth time, she trained the binoculars on to the ocean.

A troubled look passed over the girl's face. He saw that she was hesitating—that there was a struggle going on within her between two conflicting emotions.

"Miss Trent," he said earnestly, "forgive me if I say anything you don't like, or if I say it tactlessly. I'm a complete stranger to you, and you haven't the least reason to believe you can trust me any more than the next waster who drifts up in this queer part of the world." The girl's steady brown eyes were