She glanced from right to left down the lines of swarthy islanders, and saw nothing in their faces but surly, bitter unfriendliness.

They stood stolidly, stonily at a distance, white-robed lines of resentment personified.
Not a hand was lifted in assistance to the bewildered visitors; not a word, not a smile of encouragement escaped the lips of the silent throng.
Lady Agnes looked about eagerly in search of a white man's face, but there was none to be seen except in her own party.

A moment of panic came to her as she stood there on the pier, almost alone, while Saunders and her husband were engaged in the effort to secure help with the boxes.

Behind her lay the friendly ocean; ahead the gorgeous landscape, smiling down upon her with the green glow of poison in its sunny face, dark treachery in its heart.

On the instant she realised that these people were her enemies, and that they were the real masters of the island, after all.