On the way to Sea-view Cottage, Captain Wragge expressed his intention of asking the housekeeper a few sympathizing questions on the subject of her invalid brother in Switzerland.  He was of opinion that the critical condition of this gentleman’s health might exercise an important influence on the future progress of the conspiracy.  Any chance of a separation, he remarked, between the housekeeper and her master was, under existing circumstances, a chance which merited the closest investigation.  “If we can only get Mrs. Lecount out of the way at the right time,” whispered the captain, as he opened his host’s garden gate, “our man is caught!”

In a minute more Magdalen was again under Noel Vanstone’s roof; this time in the character of his own invited guest.

The proceedings of the evening were for the most part a repetition of the proceedings during the morning walk.  Noel Vanstone vibrated between his admiration of Magdalen’s beauty and his glorification of his own possessions.  Captain Wragge’s inexhaustible outbursts of information—­relieved by delicately-indirect inquiries relating to Mrs. Lecount’s brother—­perpetually diverted the housekeeper’s jealous vigilance from dwelling on the looks and language of her master.  So the evening passed until ten o’clock.  By that time the captain’s ready-made science was exhausted, and the housekeeper’s temper was forcing its way to the surface.  Once more Captain Wragge warned Magdalen by a look, and, in spite of Noel Vanstone’s hospitable protest, wisely rose to say good-night.

“I have got my information,” remarked the captain on the way back.  “Mrs. Lecount’s brother lives at Zurich.  He is a bachelor; he possesses a little money, and his sister is his nearest relation.  If he will only be so obliging as to break up altogether, he will save us a world of trouble with Mrs. Lecount.”

It was a fine moonlight night.  He looked round at Magdalen, as he said those words, to see if her intractable depression of spirits had seized on her again.

No! her variable humor had changed once more.  She looked about her with a flaunting, feverish gayety; she scoffed at the bare idea of any serious difficulty with Mrs. Lecount; she mimicked Noel Vanstone’s high-pitched voice, and repeated Noel Vanstone’s high-flown compliments, with a bitter enjoyment of turning him into ridicule.  Instead of running into the house as before, she sauntered carelessly by her companion’s side, humming little snatches of song, and kicking the loose pebbles right and left on the garden-walk.  Captain Wragge hailed the change in her as the best of good omens.  He thought he saw plain signs that the family spirit was at last coming back again.

“Well,” he said, as he lit her bedroom candle for her, “when we all meet on the Parade tomorrow, we shall see, as our nautical friends say, how the land lies.  One thing I can tell you, my dear girl—­I have used my eyes to very little purpose if there is not a storm brewing tonight in Mr. Noel Vanstone’s domestic atmosphere.”