The dinghy
rocked itself lazily in the swell of the yacht's departure. As the mist
cleared away the outline of the shore became more distinct, and it
appeared as if Ostend was distant scarcely a cable's length. The
white dome of the great Kursaal glittered in the pale turquoise sky,
and the smoke of steamers in the harbour could be plainly
distinguished. On the offing was a crowd of brown-sailed fishing
luggers returning with the night's catch. The many-hued
bathing-vans could be counted on the distant beach. Everything
seemed perfectly normal. It was difficult for either Nella or her
companion to realize that anything extraordinary had happened
within the last hour. Yet there was the yacht, not a mile off, to
prove to them that something very extraordinary had, in fact,
happened. The yacht was no vision, nor was that sinister watching
figure at its stern a vision, either.
'I suppose Jules was too surprised and too feeble to inquire how I
came to be on board his yacht,' said the Prince, taking the oars.
'Oh! How did you?' asked Nella, her face lighting up. 'Really, I had
almost forgotten that part of the affair.'
'I must begin at the beginning and it will take some time,' answered
the Prince. 'Had we not better postpone the recital till we get
ashore?'
'I will row and you shall talk,' said Nella. 'I want to know now.'
He smiled happily at her, but gently declined to yield up the oars.
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