side."

The storm broke over them before the kettle boiled. The rain thrashed
the house fiercely under the impulse of a wild south-west wind, which
grew wilder every minute, and the thunder bellowed about them as
though the very heavens were cracking.

"This is a trifle rough on inoffensive pilgrims," said Graeme. "I'm
really sorry to have got you into it."

"You didn't do it on purpose, did you, Mr. Graeme?" asked Miss Penny,
with pointed emphasis.

"I did not. I devoutly wish you were both safe home in the Rue Lucas."

"All in good time. Meanwhile, we might be worse off, and this tea is
going to be excellent. Margaret, my child, do you know that tea under
these conditions is infinitely preferable to tea in Melgrave Square,
under any conditions whatsoever?"

"It is certainly a change," said Margaret.

"And a very decided improvement. It's what some of my young friends
would call 'just awfully jolly decent,'" said Miss Penny.

"We're not out of the wood--that is to say, the island--yet,"
suggested Graeme.

"Or we shouldn't be here enjoying ourselves like this. Brecqhou is
sheer delight."

"On a fine day," said Margaret quietly.

"Or in a thunderstorm," asserted Miss Penny militantly. But Margaret
would not fight lest it should seem like casting reflections on their
present estate.

The thunder rolled over the wide waters with a majesty of utterance
novel to their unaccustomed city ears, the rain drew a storm-gray veil
over everything past the well, the wind waxed into hysterical fury,
tore at the roof and gables, and went shrieking on over Sark. And
above the rush of wind and rain, in the short pauses between the
thunder-peals, the hoarse roar of the waves along the black bastions
of Brecqhou grew louder and louder in their ears.

Graeme's face grew somewhat anxious, as he stood at the window and
peered westward as far as he could see, and found nothing but fury and
blackness there. He had a dim recollection of hearing of outer islands
such as this being cut off from the mainland for days at a time. He
could imagine what the sea must be like among the tumbled rocks below.
And he had seen the Race of the Gouliot in storm time once before, and
doubted much if any boat would face the whirl and rush of its piled-up
waters.

What on earth were they to do if the men could not get across for
them?

Suppose they had to pass the night there?

Good Heavens! Suppose they could not get across for days? What we