in silence." There was a silver bell at his right
hand to call the servants; he made them a sign to stand still, struck
the bell with force, and leaned eagerly forward. The note rose clear and
strong; it rang out clear and far into the night and over the deserted
island; it died into the distance until there only lingered in the
porches of the ear a vibration that was sound no longer. "Empty houses,
empty sea, solitary beaches!" said Attwater. "And yet God hears the
bell! And yet we sit in this verandah on a lighted stage with all heaven
for spectators! And you call that solitude?"

There followed a bar of silence, during which the captain sat
mesmerised.

Then Attwater laughed softly. "These are the diversions of a lonely
man," he resumed, "and possibly not in good taste. One tells oneself
these little fairy tales for company. If there _should_ happen to be
anything in folk-lore, Mr. Hay? But here comes the claret. One does not
offer you Lafitte, captain, because I believe it is all sold to the
railroad dining-cars in your great country; but this Brane-Mouton is of
a good year, and Mr. Whish will give me news of it."

"That's a queer idea of yours!" cried the captain, bursting with a sigh
from the spell that had bound him. "So you mean to tell me now, that you
sit here evenings and ring up ... well, ring on the angels ... by
yourself?"

"As a matter of historic fact, and since you put it directly, one does
not," said Attwater. "Why ring a bell, when there flows out from oneself
and everything about one a far more momentous silence? the least beat of
my heart and the least thought in my mind echoing into eternity for ever
and for ever and for ever."

"O, look 'ere," said Huish, "turn down the lights at once, and the Band
of 'Ope will oblige! This ain't a spiritual seance."

"No folk-lore about Mr. Whish--I beg your pardon, captain: Huish, not
Whish, of course," said Attwater.

As the boy was filling Huish's glass, the bottle escaped from his hand
and was shattered, and the wine spilt on the verandah floor. Instant
grimness as of death appeared in the face of Attwater; he smote the bell
imperiously, and the two brown natives fell into the attitude of
attention and stood mute and trembling. There was just a moment of
silence and hard looks; then followed a few savage words in the native;
and, upon a gesture of dismissal, the service proceeded as before.

None of the party had as yet observed upon the excellent be