“It is very kind of both of them,” Hamel said thoughtfully.

The woman stood still for a moment, looking at him.  Then she drew a step nearer.

“Has Mr. Fentolin given you the key of the shed?” she asked, very quietly.

Hamel shook his head.

“We don’t need the place, do we?”

“He did not give you the key?” she persisted.

“Mr. Fentolin said that he had some things in there which he wished to keep locked up,” he explained.

She remained thoughtful for several moments.  Then she turned away.

“No,” she said, “it was not likely he would not give you that key!”

Hamel dined simply but comfortably.  Mrs. Cox cleared away the things, brought him his coffee, and appeared a few minutes later, her shawl wrapped around her, ready for departure.

“I shall be here at seven o’clock in the morning, sir,” she announced.

Hamel was a little startled.  He withdrew the pip from his mouth and looked at her.

“Why, of course,” he remarked.  “I’d forgotten.  There is no place for you to stay here.”

“I shall go back to my brother’s.” she said.

Hamel put some money upon the table.

“Please get anything that is necessary,” he directed.  “I shall leave you to do the housekeeping for a few days.”

“Shall you be staying here long, sir?” she asked.

“I am not sure,” he replied.

“I do not suppose,” she said, “that you will stay for very long.  I shall get only the things that you require from day to day.  Good night, sir.”

She left the room.  Hamel looked after her for a moment with a frown.  In some indescribable way, the woman half impressed, half irritated him.  She had always the air of keeping something in the background.  He followed her out on to the little ridge of beach, a few minutes after she had left.  The mist was still drifting about.  Only a few yards away the sea rolled in, filling the air with dull thunder.  The marshland was half obscured.  St. David’s Hall was invisible, but like strangely-hung lanterns in an empty space he saw the line of lights from the great house gleam through the obscurity.  There was no sound save the sound of the sea.  He shivered slightly.  It was like an empty land, this.

Then, moved by some instinct of curiosity, he made his way round to the closed door of the boat-house, only to find it, as he had expected, locked.  He shook it slightly, without result.  Then he strolled round to the back, entered his own little abode by the kitchen, and tried the other door which led into the boat-house.  It was not only locked, but a staple had been put in, and it was fastened with a padlock of curious design which he did not remember to have seen there before.  Again, half unconsciously, he listened, and again he found the silence oppressive.  He went back to his room, brought out some of the books which it had been his intention to study, and sat and read over the fire.