"Make for the nearest boathouse!" called Mr. Warren to his engineer. "We can't get back to the hotel in such a storm as this."
The storm now burst in all its West Indian fury. The waters were churned into foam. The wind whistled and roared. The two small boats tossed about on the water like chips.
"We are just in time!" exclaimed Mr. Warren, as they at last reached the boathouse. "In another five minutes I believe we should have been swamped." He helped the women from the boat to the pier.
"What an escape!" gasped Mrs. Smythe. "Marian, my darling, are you all right?"
"Perfectly, Mama," replied her daughter rather scornfully. It was plain to the four "Automobile Girls" that Marian did not entirely approve of her mother's display of fear, and the tone in which she had answered told its own story.
The little company sought the shelter of the boathouse. The two foreigners went with them. In one of the men, Bab recognized the stranger she had noticed that morning on the hotel piazza. Mrs. De Lancey Smythe introduced him as Monsieur Duval.
"We were very lucky to have met you, sir," Mr. Duval said to Mr. Stuart. Bab noticed that he spoke very good English, with only a slight foreign accent. "I am afraid our boat would have sunk if you had not come to our rescue."
Mr. Stuart bowed politely, but coldly. He was wondering if his girls and Miss Sallie would have bad colds from their wetting. They were standing apart from the others, laughing at their plight.
The young Count de Sonde had joined Marian and her mother, as soon as he entered the boathouse, but Maud was with them. It was upon Maud that the count immediately bestowed his attention. He smiled upon her, until Maud's foolish head began to flutter. Just think of capturing the attentions of a real count so quickly! Mr. Warren saw his daughter's delight and frowned slightly. Maud must not get any foolish ideas about foreigners in her head. He would put an end to that nonsense. He was about to stride over and take charge of affairs when a man servant in plain livery appeared on the path near the boathouse door. He had come from the pretty villa, which was only a hundred yards back from the boathouse, set in a thick grove of palms. The man carried a large bundle of wraps and umbrellas. He paused respectfully when he reached the steps leading to the pavilion.