“Twelve is rather late, under the circumstances, for you to be seen out walking.”

“I have no intention of walking.  Let him be shown into the parlor—­”

Her voice died away in silence before she ended the sentence.

“Yes?” said Captain Wragge.

“And leave me alone in the parlor to receive him.”

“I understand,” said the captain.  “An admirable idea.  I’ll be out of the way in the dining-room while he is here, and you can come and tell me about it when he has gone.”

There was another moment of silence.

“Is there no way but telling you?” she asked, suddenly.  “I can control myself while he is with me, but I can’t answer for what I may say or do afterward.  Is there no other way?”

“Plenty of ways,” said the captain.  “Here is the first that occurs to me.  Leave the blind down over the window of your room upstairs before he comes.  I will go out on the beach, and wait there within sight of the house.  When I see him come out again, I will look at the window.  If he has said nothing, leave the blind down.  If he has made you an offer, draw the blind up.  The signal is simplicity itself; we can’t misunderstand each other.  Look your best to-morrow!  Make sure of him, my dear girl—­make sure of him, if you possibly can.”

He had spoken loud enough to feel certain that she had heard him, but no answering word came from her.  The dead silence was only disturbed by the rustling of her dress, which told him she had risen from her chair.  Her shadowy presence crossed the room again; the door shut softly; she was gone.  He rang the bell hurriedly for the lights.  The servant found him standing close at the window, looking less self-possessed than usual.  He told her he felt a little poorly, and sent her to the cupboard for the brandy.

At a few minutes before twelve the next day Captain Wragge withdrew to his post of observation, concealing himself behind a fishing-boat drawn up on the beach.  Punctually as the hour struck, he saw Noel Vanstone approach North Shingles and open the garden gate.  When the house door had closed on the visitor, Captain Wragge settled himself comfortably against the side of the boat and lit his cigar.

He smoked for half an hour—­for ten minutes over the half-hour, by his watch.  He finished the cigar down to the last morsel of it that he could hold in his lips.  Just as he had thrown away the end, the door opened again and Noel Vanstone came out.

The captain looked up instantly at Magdalen’s window.  In the absorbing excitement of the moment, he counted the seconds.  She might get from the parlor to her own room in less than a minute.  He counted to thirty, and nothing happened.  He counted to fifty, and nothing happened.  He gave up counting, and left the boat impatiently, to return to the house.

As he took his first step forward he saw the signal.

The blind was drawn up.