“Lor’ bless me!” snapped Mrs. Pepper, as he slowly perambulated the parlour that afternoon.  “What ails the man?  Can’t you keep still for five minutes?”

The ex-pilot stopped and eyed her solemnly, but, ere he could reply, his heart gave a great bound, for, from behind the geraniums which filled the window, he saw the face of Captain Crippen slowly rise and peer cautiously into the room.  Before his wife could follow the direction of her husband’s eyes it had disappeared.

“Somebody looking in at the window,” said Pepper, with forced calmness, in reply to his wife’s eyebrows.

“Like their impudence!” said the unconscious woman, resuming her knitting, while her husband waited in vain for the captain to enter.

He waited some time, and then, half dead with excitement, sat down, and with shaking fingers lit his pipe.  As he looked up the stalwart figure of the captain passed the window.  During the next twenty minutes it passed seven times, and Pepper, coming to the not unnatural conclusion that his friend intended to pass the afternoon in the same unprofitable fashion, resolved to force his hand.

“Must be a tramp,” he said aloud.

“Who?” inquired his wife.  “Man keeps looking in at the window,” said Pepper desperately.  “Keeps looking in till he meets my eye, then he disappears.  Looks like an old sea-captain, something.”

“Old sea-captain?” said his wife, putting down her work and turning round.  There was a strange hesitating note in her voice.  She looked at the window, and at the same instant the head of the captain again appeared above the geraniums, and, meeting her gaze, hastily vanished.  Martha Pepper sat still for a moment, and then, rising in a slow, dazed fashion, crossed to the door and opened it.  Mermaid Passage was empty!

“See anybody?” quavered Pepper.

His wife shook her head, but in a strangely quiet fashion, and, sitting down, took up her knitting again.

For some time the click of the needles and the tick of the clock were the only sounds audible, and the ex-pilot had just arrived at the conclusion that his friend had abandoned him to his fate, when there came a low tapping at the door.

“Come in!” cried Pepper, starting.

The door opened slowly, and the tall figure of Captain Crippen entered and stood there eyeing them nervously.  A neat little speech he had prepared failed him at the supreme moment.  He leaned against the wall, and in a clumsy, shamefaced fashion lowered his gaze, and stammered out the one word—­“Martha!”

At that word Mrs. Pepper rose and stood with parted lips, eyeing him wildly.

“Jem!” she gasped, “Jem!”

“Martha!” croaked the captain again.

With a choking cry Mrs. Pepper ran towards him, and, to the huge gratification of her lawful spouse, flung her arms about his neck and kissed him violently.

“Jem,” she cried breathlessly, “is it really you?  I can hardly believe it.  Where have you been all this long time?  Where have you been?”