“The point is,” Mr. Morton broke in impatiently, “do you speak French enough to ascertain what has happened to this confounded ferry? I came over here this morning from a place called Dinard. I came by ferry. I climbed those identical steps.” He waved his hand dramatically toward the landing. “I lunched and strolled around the town until it was nearly time for me to meet my chauffeur in Dinard. Then I came back here. The ferry is gone. The ocean is gone. Am I out of my senses, or what’s happened?” He mopped his brow and glowered darkly at Betty.