prise? Where had his wits been, when the amber eyes
smouldered and broke into a lambent flame that seemed to play all round
his heart? That was her way. She never supplicated, evoking a benign
pity for her pathetic and regretted womanhood. Nor did she storm and
rail, getting what she desired as the price of repose. She simply
accepted the responsibility with a flickering revelation of her soul in
one glance from those amber eyes. And left him to divine the purpose in
her heart. He thought of all this in the few moments as he moved up to
the house with the active and enthusiastic Plouff at his heels like a
shadow. And he wondered if she would keep him waiting. That, at any
rate, was not one of her faults.

There was no light in the front of the house. That was not promising. He
crossed over and took an oblique view of the windows behind the trees of
the garden. And she was there. He saw a shadow on the ceiling, a shadow
that moved and halted, with leisurely deliberation. He walked to the
gate and tried it. It was shut.

"Listen Bos'," he said, holding that person's shoulder in a firm grip.
"You've got to give me a leg over. Then--listen now--go back and get the
boat out, and lay off the end of the garden. Savvy?"

"Yes. Now, up you go," said Plouff. "What do you want to hold me like
that for? Over?"

There was no need for the question or for a reply. Mr. Spokesly,
assisted by an energetic heave from Plouff, flew over the gate and came
down easily on the flags below. He heard Plouff depart hastily, and went
round into the garden to discover what he might have to do. It was easy
to push along the path and look up at the lighted window. She was there.
He could see her arms above her head busy with her hair. While he stood
there she took a large hat from her head and presently replaced it by a
black toque with a single darting cock's feather athwart it. Once he saw
her face, stern and rigid with anxiety over the choice of a hat. And he
saw, when he flung a small piece of earth gently against the window, the
arms stop dead in their movements and remain there while she listened.
Again he flung a piece of earth, a soft fragment that burst silently as
it struck the glass, and the light went out.

Mr. Spokesly bethought him of the gate over which he had come and he
made his way back to see if it could be opened from within. It could,
and he opened it. And then, just as he was preparing for a secret and
stealthy departure, br