The captain obeyed hastily, and, stepping inside the dismantled room, stood for some time gazing out of window at the rain.  Then he filled his pipe and, removing a small chair which was sitting upside down in a large one, took its place and stared disconsolately at the patch of wet floor and the general disorder.

At the end of an hour he took a furtive peep into the kitchen.  Selina Vickers was sitting with her back towards him, brooding over the stove.  It seemed clear to him that she was ashamed to meet his eye, and, glad to see such signs of grace in her, he resolved to spare her further confusion by going upstairs.  He went up noisly and closed his door with a bang, but although he opened it afterwards and stood listening acutely he heard so sound from below.

By the end of the second hour his uneasiness had increased to consternation.  The house was as silent as a tomb, the sitting-room was still in a state of chaos, and a healthy appetite would persist in putting ominous and inconvenient questions as to dinner.  Whistling a cheerful air he went downstairs again and put his head in at the kitchen.  Selina sat in the same attitude, and when he coughed made no response.

“What about dinner?” he said, at last, in a voice which strove to be unconcerned.

“Go away,” said Selina, thickly.  “I don’t want no dinner.”

The captain started.  “But I do,” he said, feelingly.

“You’d better get it yourself, then,” replied Miss Vickers, without turning her head.  “I might steal a potato or something.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” said the other, nervously.

“I’m not a thief,” continued Miss Vickers.  “I work as hard as anybody in Binchester, and nobody can ever say that I took the value of a farthing from them.  If I’m poor I’m honest.”

“Everybody knows that,” said the captain, with fervour.

“You said you didn’t want the paper,” said Selina, turning at last and regarding him fiercely.  “I heard you with my own ears, else I wouldn’t have taken it.  And if they had come back you’d have had your share.  You didn’t want the treasure yourself and you didn’t want other people to have it.  And it wasn’t yours, because I heard you say so.”

“Very well, say no more about it,” said the captain.  “If anybody asks you can say that I knew you had it.  Now go and put that back in the bureau.”

He tossed the key on to the table, and Miss Vickers, after a moment’s hesitation, turned with a gratified smile and took it up.  The next hour he spent in his bedroom, the rapid evolutions of Miss Vickers as she passed from the saucepans to the sitting room and from the sitting-room back to the saucepans requiring plenty of sea room.

A week later she was one of the happiest people in Binchester.  Edward Tredgold had received a cable from Auckland:  “All safe; coming home,” and she shared with Mrs. Chalk and Mrs. Stobell in the hearty congratulations of a large circle of friends.  Her satisfaction was only marred by the feverish condition of Mr. Tasker immediately on receipt of the news.