n so deft that she could not quite clearly perceive its
tendency, although from the beginning she suspected it.

The stranger at the same time advanced to her. He was a man of the
middle size, with a short snub nose, a pair of vacuous protruding brown
eyes, and a moustache of some ferocity. He lifted his hat from his head
and disclosed a round forehead which was going bald.

"I have sailed down from Kingsbridge," he said, "but I have never been
in this part of the world before. Can you tell me if this house is
called The Pool?"

"Yes; you will find Mrs. Adair if you go up the steps on to the
terrace," said Ethne.

"I came to see Miss Eustace."

Ethne turned back to him with surprise.

"I am Miss Eustace."

The stranger contemplated her in silence.

"So I thought."

He twirled first one moustache and then the other before he spoke again.

"I have had some trouble to find you, Miss Eustace. I went all the way
to Glenalla--for nothing. Rather hard on a man whose leave is short!"

"I am very sorry," said Ethne, with a smile; "but why have you been put
to this trouble?"

Again the stranger curled a moustache. Again his eyes dwelt vacantly
upon her before he spoke.

"You have forgotten my name, no doubt, by this time."

"I do not think that I have ever heard it," she answered.

"Oh, yes, you have, believe me. You heard it five years ago. I am
Captain Willoughby."

Ethne drew sharply back; the bright colour paled in her cheeks; her lips
set in a firm line, and her eyes grew very hard. She glowered at him
silently.

Captain Willoughby was not in the least degree discomposed. He took his
time to speak, and when he did it was rather with the air of a man
forgiving a breach of manners, than of one making his excuses.

"I can quite understand that you do not welcome me, Miss Eustace, but
none of us could foresee that you would be present when the three white
feathers came into Feversham's hands."

Ethne swept the explanation aside.

"How do you know that I was present?" she asked.

"Feversham told me."

"You have seen him?"

The cry leaped loudly from her lips. It was just a throb of the heart
made vocal. It startled Ethne as much as it surprised Captain
Willoughby. She had schooled herself to omit Harry Feversham from her
thoughts, and to obliterate him from her affections, and the cry showed
to her how incompletely she had succeeded. Only a few minutes since she
had spoken of him as one whom she loo