stopped with a jar of pickles in his hand and said abruptly:

"I don't know why we're doing all this; I suppose we ought really
to fall to and get it over."

Then he added more thoughtfully: "Of course this island seems
rather bare and the survivor----"

"The question is," said Turnbull, with cheerful speculation,
"whether the survivor will be in a proper frame of mind for
potted prawns."

MacIan looked down at the rows of tins and bottles, and the cloud
of doubt still lowered upon his face.

"You will permit me two liberties, my dear sir," said Turnbull at
last: "The first is to break open this box and light one of Mr.
Wilkinson's excellent cigars, which will, I am sure, assist my
meditations; the second is to offer a penny for your thoughts; or
rather to convulse the already complex finances of this island by
betting a penny that I know them."

"What on earth are you talking about?" asked MacIan, listlessly,
in the manner of an inattentive child.

"I know what you are really thinking, MacIan," repeated Turnbull,
laughing. "I know what I am thinking, anyhow. And I rather fancy
it's the same."

"What are you thinking?" asked Evan.