The moisture from the sea was constant, and she spent countless hours staring at the sea from the west tower, the rise and fall of waves. From then until four in the afternoon there was nothing to do—the whole island went to sleep. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. " "I can't! I can't—not now!" "Bat!—can't you see that she's the kind who would understand and forgive? She loves you. "I've often heard of a secret door in this room, though I never saw it. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. Sheppard let fall her basket. CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. Sepulchre's.
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