Mrs. Pepper took her bonnet from its peg behind the door, and, surveying herself in the glass, tied it beneath her chin.

“Alone,” said Crippen nervously.  “I want to do a little thinking.”

“Never again, Jem,” said Mrs. Pepper firmly.  “My place is by your side.  If you’re ashamed of people looking at you, I’m not.  I’m proud of you.  Come along.  Come and show yourself, and tell them who you are.  You shall never go out of my sight again as long as I live.  Never.”

She began to whimper.

“What’s to be done?” inquired Crippen, turning desperately on the bewildered pilot.

“What’s it got to do with him?” demanded Mrs. Pepper sharply.

“He’s got to be considered a little, I s’pose,” said the captain, dissembling.  “Besides, I think I’d better do like the man in the poetry did.  Let me go away and die of a broken heart.  Perhaps it’s best.”

Mrs. Pepper looked at him with kindling eyes.

“Let me go away and die of a broken heart,” repeated the captain, with real feeling.  “I’d rather do it.  I would indeed.”

Mrs. Pepper, bursting into angry tears, flung her arms round his neck again, and sobbed on his shoulder.  The pilot, obeying the frenzied injunctions of his friend’s eye, drew down the blind.

“There’s quite a crowd outside,” he remarked.

“I don’t mind,” said his wife amiably.  “They’ll soon know who he is.”

She stood holding the captain’s hand and stroking it, and whenever his feelings became too much for her put her head down on his waistcoat.  At such times the captain glared fiercely at the ex-pilot, who, being of a weak nature, was unable, despite his anxiety, to give his risible faculties that control which the solemnity of the occasion demanded.

The afternoon wore slowly away.  Miss Winthrop, who disliked scandal, had allowed something of the affair to leak out, and several visitors, including a local reporter, called, but were put off till the morrow, on the not unnatural plea that the long-separated couple desired a little privacy.  The three sat silent, the ex-pilot, with wrinkled brows, trying hard to decipher the lip-language in which the captain addressed him whenever he had an opportunity, but could only dimly guess its purport, when the captain pressed his huge fist into the service as well.

Mrs. Pepper rose at length, and went into the back room to prepare tea.  As she left the door open, however, and took the captain’s hat with her, he built no hopes on her absence, but turned furiously to the ex-pilot.

“What’s to be done?” he inquired in a fierce whisper.  “This can’t go on.”

“It’ll have to,” whispered the other.

“Now, look here,” said Crippen menacingly, “I’m going into the kitchen to make a clean breast of it.  I’m sorry for you, but I’ve done the best I can.  Come and help me to explain.”

He turned to the kitchen, but the other, with the strength born of despair, seized him by the sleeve and held him back.