“Oh, have you?” Eagerly Toby’s eyes came up to his, “What is she like?  What are you going to call her?”

“She isn’t christened yet.  I’m going to hold a reception on board, and Maud shall perform the ceremony.  I’m calling her The Blue Moon—­unless you can suggest something better.”  Saltash’s restless look went to Maud.  “I wanted to call her after you,” he said lightly, “But I was afraid Jake might object.”

“I think The Blue Moon is much more suitable,” she answered.  “Is she as rare as she sounds?”

“She’s rather a fine article,” he made answer.  “You must come and see her—­come and cruise in her if you will.  She’s only just off the slips.  I was lucky to get her.  She skims along like a bird.”

“Why not call her The Blue Bird?” suggested Sheila.

He shook his head with his odd grimace.  “That is a thing I can never hope to possess, Miss Melrose.  The blue moon may occur once in my life if I am exceptionally virtuous, but the blue bird never.  I have ceased to hope for it.”  His glance flashed beyond her.  “Young Bunny is distinguishing himself to-day.  That was a fine effort.”

Everyone was clapping except Toby who was staring before her with her hands in her lap.  Her blue eyes were very wide open, but they did not seem to be watching the game.

“It will fly to you, cherie,” suddenly whispered a voice in her ear.  “It is already upon the wing.”

A little tremor went through her, but she did not turn her head.  Only after a moment she slipped a hand behind her through the back of her chair.

Wiry fingers closed upon it, gripped it, let it go.  “When it comes to you, hold it fast!” came the rapid whisper. "Il ne vient pas deux fois—­l’oiseau bleu."

Toby’s lip trembled.  She bit it desperately.  Her look was strained.  She did not attempt to speak.

“It is the gift of the gods, cherie.”  The words came softly at her shoulder, but they pierced her.  “We do not cast their gifts away.  They come—­too seldom.”

She made a quick movement; it was almost convulsive, like the start of one suddenly awakened.  A hard breath went through her, and then she was laughing, laughing and clapping with the rest, her eyes upon the boyish, triumphant figure in front of her.  When the applause died away, Saltash had departed, abruptly as was his wont.  And though they saw him in the distance several times, he did not return that afternoon.

CHAPTER IV

THE TRAP

It was an evening of golden silence, and the larch copse in its stillness was like an enchanted wood.  Now and then something moved in the undergrowth with a swift rustle or a blackbird raised a long ripple of alarm.  But for the most part all was still.  No breeze came up the hillside, and in the west a long black line of cloud lay like a barrier across the sun, so that great rays slanted out over land and sea, transforming all things with their radiance.