“All right,” whispered Ellis, pressing a coin into the servant’s hand.  “I’m going up to the parlor with the lady.  You go up ahead of us, and keep in front of us along the hall.  Don’t dare to look back.  I shall keep on talking to the lady, so that you can tell by my voice where we are.  When you get to room 256, go in and shut the door behind you:  pretend that you were called,—­ask the gentlemen what they want,—­tell any kind of a lie you like,—­but keep the door shut until you’re sure we’ve got by.  Do you hear?”

“Yes, suh,” replied the negro intelligently.

The plan worked without a hitch.  Ellis talked steadily, about the hotel, the furnishings, all sorts of irrelevant subjects, to which Miss Pemberton paid little attention.  She was angry with Delamere, and took no pains to conceal her feelings.  The bell-boy entered room 256 just before they reached the door.  Ellis had heard loud talking as they approached, and as they were passing there was a crash of broken glass, as though some object had been thrown at the door.

“What is the matter there?” exclaimed Clara, quickening her footsteps and instinctively drawing closer to Ellis.

“Some one dropped a glass, I presume,” replied Ellis calmly.

Miss Pemberton glanced at him suspiciously.  She was in a decidedly perverse mood.  Seating herself at the piano, she played brilliantly for a quarter of an hour.  Quite a number of couples strolled up to the parlor, but Delamere was not among them.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Miss Pemberton, as she let her fingers fall upon the keys with a discordant crash, after the last note, “I don’t see why we came out here to-night.  Let’s go back downstairs.”

Ellis felt despondent.  He had done his utmost to serve and to please Miss Pemberton, but was not likely, he foresaw, to derive much benefit from his opportunity.  Delamere was evidently as much or more in her thoughts by reason of his absence than if he had been present.  If the door should have been opened, and she should see him from the hall upon their return, Ellis could not help it.  He took the side next to the door, however, meaning to hurry past the room so that she might not recognize Delamere.

Fortunately the door was closed and all quiet within the room.  On the stairway they met the bellboy, rubbing his head with one hand and holding a bottle of seltzer upon a tray in the other.  The boy was well enough trained to give no sign of recognition, though Ellis guessed the destination of the bottle.

Ellis hardly knew whether to feel pleased or disappointed at the success of his manoeuvres.  He had spared Miss Pemberton some mortification, but he had saved Tom Delamere from merited exposure.  Clara ought to know the truth, for her own sake.

On the beach, a few rods away, fires were burning, around which several merry groups had gathered.  The smoke went mostly to one side, but a slight whiff came now and then to where Mrs. Carteret sat awaiting them.