Mr. Vickers darted upstairs with alacrity, and having made himself approximately tidy smoked a morning pipe on the doorstep while his daughter got ready.  An air of importance and dignity suitable to the occasion partly kept off inquirers.

“We’ll go and see Mr. Stobell first,” said his daughter, as she came out.

“Very good,” said the witness, “but if you asked my advice——­”

“You just keep quiet,” said Selina, irritably; “I’ve not gone quite off my head yet.  And don’t hum!”

Mr. Vickers lapsed into offended silence, and, arrived at Mr. Stobell’s, followed his daughter into the hall in so stately a fashion that the maid—­lately of Mint Street—­implored him not to eat her.  Miss Vickers replied for him, and the altercation that ensued was only quelled by the appearance of Mr. Stobell at the dining-room door.

“Halloa!  What do you want?” he inquired, staring at the intruders.

[Illustration:  “‘Halloa!  What do you want?’ he inquired”]

“I’ve come for my share,” said Miss Vickers, eyeing him fiercely.

“Share?” repeated Mr. Stobell.  “Share?  Why, we’ve been shipwrecked.  Haven’t you heard?”

“Perhaps you came to my house when I wasn’t at home,” retorted Miss Vickers, in a trembling but sarcastic voice.  “I want to hear about it.  That’s what I’ve come for.”

She walked to the dining-room and, as Mr. Stobell still stood in the doorway, pushed past him, followed by her father.  Mr. Stobell, after a short deliberation, returned to his seat at the breakfast-table, and in an angry and disjointed fashion narrated the fate of the Fair Emily and their subsequent adventures.  Miss Vickers heard him to an end in silence.

“What time was it when the ship struck on the rock?” she inquired.

Mr. Stobell stared at her.  “Eleven o’clock,” he said, gruffly.

Miss Vickers made a note in a little red-covered memorandum-book.

“Who got in the boat first?” she demanded.

Mr. Stobell’s lips twisted in a faint grin.  “Chalk did,” he said, with relish.

Miss Vickers, nodding at the witness to call his attention to the fact, made another note.

“How far was the boat off when the ship sank?”

“Here, look here—­” began the indignant Stobell.

“How far was the boat off?” interposed the witness, severely; “that’s what we want to know.”

“You hold your tongue,” said his daughter.

“I’m doing the talking.  How far was the boat off?”

“About four yards,” replied Mr. Stobell.  “And now look here; if you want to know any more, you go and see Mr. Chalk.  I’m sick and tired of the whole business.  And you’d no right to talk about it while we were away.”

“I’ve got the paper you signed and I’m going to know the truth,” said Miss Vickers, fiercely.  “It’s my right.  What was the size of the island?”

Mr. Stobell maintained an obstinate silence.