rfield, who overwhelmed me with far more thanks and gratitude than I
deserved, and insisted on my spending the rest of that week-end at the
Hall--an invitation backed up in irresistible fashion by his daughter.
To complete the general satisfaction, whilst we were talking we heard
the sound of oars, and saw a boat approaching, containing two of the
most weary and dispirited-looking men I ever saw.

They proved to be Mr. Small and Mr. Harold Burfield, returning dead-beat
and miserable after a fruitless and wretched search for the missing
boat, to get food and to make arrangements for a further expedition. How
can I describe their intense relief and astonishment when--summoned by a
mighty shout--they pulled to shore, and saw the girl they imagined
drifting helplessly miles out at sea standing on shore, safe and sound,
and in infinitely better case than themselves, and heard that she had
never been farther than where she now was from the scene of the accident
the night before?

Later on I asked Harold Burfield why he had not shouted as he rowed down
the river after his sister in the darkness, when I might have heard and
answered.

He said that at first he thought it no use, as he knew his sister's
boat must have had a long start of them; and later, when they had rowed
some way, and considered they must have caught up with it, they had done
so at intervals all night long, on the chance of her hearing.

So I suppose that, either they were past the _Thelma_ before they began
to call, or else in the fog had got so far over on the other side of the
channel that their voices had not reached me, as I was shut up in my
cabin.

So all the little mysteries were cleared up, and everything had "come
right in the end," as such things should.

I have spent many a happy week-end since then at the Hall and on board
the _Thelma_, and to my dying day I shall bless the fog of that
September night, for Lilian has promised shortly to fix the day of our
wedding, and we have both decided that part of the honeymoon at least is
to be spent on board the _Thelma_; and I really believe that we shall
both be rather disappointed if we do not get a bit of foggy weather to
remind us how we first made each other's acquaintance, and made friends
over "whiting and tea" in the little cabin at six o'clock in the
morning.

XIII

THE DEFLECTED COMPASS

The paddle-steamer _Queen of the Isles_ was alongside the quay at St.
Mary's, and had alrea