Miss Drewitt made no reply.

“Of course, it is a thing that grows on one,” continued Mr. Tredgold, with the air of making a concession.  “It is the first smoke that does the mischief; it is a fatal precedent.  Unless, perhaps—­How pretty that field is over there.”

Miss Drewitt looked in the direction indicated.  “Very nice,” she said, briefly.  “But what were you going to say?”

Mr. Tredgold made an elaborate attempt to appear confused.  “I was going to say,” he murmured, gently, “unless, perhaps, one begins on coarse-cut Cavendish rolled in a piece of the margin of the Sunday newspaper.”

Miss Drewitt suppressed an exclamation.  “I wanted to see where the fascination was,” she indignantly.

“And did you?” inquired Mr. Tredgold, smoothly.

The girl turned her head and looked at him.  “I have no doubt my uncle gave you full particulars,” she said, bitterly.  “It seems to me that men can gossip as much as women.”

“I tried to stop him,” said the virtuous Mr. Tredgold.

“You need not have troubled,” said Miss Drewitt, loftily.  “It is not a matter of any consequence.  I am surprised that my uncle should have thought it worth mentioning.”

She walked on slowly with head erect, pausing occasionally to look round for the captain.  Edward Tredgold looked too, and a feeling of annoyance at the childish stratagems of his well-meaning friend began to possess him.

“We had better hurry a little, I think,” he said, glancing at the sky.  “The sooner we get to Dutton Priors the better.”

“Why?” inquired his companion.

“Rain,” said the other, briefly.

“It won’t rain before evening,” said Miss Drewitt, confidently; “uncle said so.”

“Perhaps we had better walk faster, though,” urged Mr. Tredgold.

Miss Drewitt slackened her pace deliberately.  “There is no fear of its raining,” she declared.  “And uncle will not catch us up if we walk fast.”

A sudden glimpse into the immediate future was vouchsafed to Mr. Tredgold; for a fraction of a second the veil was lifted.  “Don’t blame me if you get wet through,” he said, with some anxiety.

They walked on at a pace which gave the captain every opportunity of overtaking them.  The feat would not have been beyond the powers of an athletic tortoise, but the most careful scrutiny failed to reveal any signs of him.

“I’m afraid that he is not well,” said Miss Drewitt, after a long, searching glance along the way they had come.  “Perhaps we had better go back.  It does begin to look rather dark.”

“Just as you please,” said Edward Tredgold, with unwonted caution; “but the nearest shelter is Dutton Priors.”

He pointed to a lurid, ragged cloud right ahead of them.  As if in response, a low, growling rumble sounded overhead.

“Was—­was that thunder?” said Miss Drewitt, drawing a little nearer to him.