“What is to be done now?” asked Carroll.

“See that brush fire up there?” The hermit pointed to the hillside.  “If we steep ourselves in that smoke until we choke, I think it will discourage any fleas that may have harbored on us.  The flea is the only agent of communication.”

Soot-begrimed, strangling, and with streaming eyes, they emerged, five minutes later, from the cloud of smoke.  From his pocket the Unspeakable Perk dragged forth his white gloves.  The action attracted his companion’s attention.

“Good Lord!” he cried.  “What has happened to your hands?”

“They’re blistered.”

“Stripped, rather.  They look as if you’d fallen into a fire, or rowed a fifty-mile race.  That message of Mr. Brewster’s—­See here, Perkins, you didn’t row that over to the mainland?  No, you couldn’t.  That’s absurd.  It’s too far.”

“No; I didn’t row it to the mainland.”

“But you’ve been rowing.  I’d swear to those hands.  Where?  The blockading Dutch warship?”

The other nodded.

“Last night.  Yah-h-h!” he yawned.  “It makes me sleepy to think of it.”

“Why didn’t they blow you out of the water?” “Oh, I was semiofficially expected.  Message from our consul.  They transferred the message by wireless.  I’m telling you all this, Mr. Carroll, because I think you’ll get your release within forty-eight hours, and I want you to see that some of your party keeps constantly in touch with Mr. Sherwen.  It’s mighty important that your party should get out before plague is officially declared.”

“Are you going to report this case?”

“All that I know about it.”

“But, of course, you can’t report officially, not being a physician,” mused the other.  “Still, when Dr. Pruyn comes, it will be evidence for him, won’t it?”

“Undoubtedly.  I should consider any delay after twenty-four hours risky for your party.”

“What shall you do?  Stay?”

“Oh, I’ve my place in the mountains.  That’s remote enough to be safe.  Thank Heaven, there’s a cloud over the sun!  Let’s sit down by this tree for a minute.”

Unthinkingly, as he stretched himself out, the Unspeakable Perk pushed his goggles back and presently slipped them off.  Thus, when Carroll, who had been gazing at the mist-capped peak of the mountain in front, turned and met his companion’s eyes, he underwent something of the same shock that Polly Brewster had experienced, though the nature of his sensation was profoundly different.  But his impression of the suddenly revealed face was the same.  Ribbed-in though his mind was with tradition, and distorted with falsely focused ideals and prejudices, Preston Fairfax Fitzhugh Carroll possessed a sound underlying judgment of his fellow man, and was at bottom a frank and honorable gentleman.  In his belief, the suddenly revealed face of the man beside him came near to being its own guaranty of honor and good faith.