to one another and less to
anyone else. If they had been going to a funeral they could hardly
have been more reserved.

And to something very like a funeral they were going, with the added
anxiety of very grave doubts as to the result of their visit.

They had had no difficulty in persuading the elder ladies that
Alderney was not for them. The steep path down to the Eperquerie
landing, and the tumbling about in a small boat until the steamer
came, did not greatly appeal to them. Moreover, Lady Elspeth's clear
eyes had noticed the signs of their clouding, in spite of their
efforts after naturalness, for to experienced eyes there is nothing so
unnatural as the attempt to be natural. If Mrs. Pixley noticed nothing
it was probably because her faculties had not yet fully recovered from
the shock to which they had been subjected. If she noticed she said
nothing, having no desire, perhaps, to add to the weight of her
already heavy burden.

"Now, my boy, what is it?" Lady Elspeth asked, when she had persuaded
Graeme to take her for a stroll in the evening, under plea of cramp
through overmuch sitting.

"Jeremiah Pixley is in Alderney and has written to Charles begging his
help to get on his way."

"Ah! And what are you going to do about it?".

Graeme outlined their ideas on the matter.

"He's an old rascal," said Lady Elspeth softly. "I doubt very much if
you'll get anything out of him."

"Can you suggest any better way of dealing with the matter?"

"I don't know that I can at the moment, but I doubt if you'll get any
satisfaction out of him. He'll stick to all he can, and his promise of
restitution is all bunkum, I should fear."

"And would you help him to get away in any case?"

"Personally, I think a course of penal servitude would be of the
greatest service to him. But, for Charles's sake and his mother's, the
sooner the whole matter is buried the better, and so I should be sorry
to hear of him being taken. It would only revive the scandal."

"That's just what we all feel;" and he saw that the problem of
Jeremiah Pixley was too much even for Lady Elspeth.

And so the party of four on the _Courier_ lacked vivacity, and found
no enjoyment in the lonely austerity of the Casquets or Ortach; and
the frowning southern cliffs of Alderney itself, as the steamer raced
up the Swinge to Braye Harbour, seemed to them but a poor copy of
their own little isle of Sark, lacking its gem-like qualities. But
then their minds