erstanding. He gave me a glance--I
wasn't sure whether it was just bold or whether there was a sense of
drama in it--and said in a quiet voice: "No, thank you; nothing at
all."

The one way of escaping the encounter would have been to run for it,
which would, of course, only have made matters worse; so we marched
straight on into the jaws of detection. I would have given much to know
whether Jack and Pat had heard Peter's exclamation, and if they guessed
in the least what a scene we might be in for. (No, not a _scene_! I
couldn't, even then, associate Peter with a "scene" in public; despite
his temper, he is always so cool in every emergency, and has such a
peculiar way of carrying things off!)

Much as I wanted to know, however, I dared not turn. Does a mouse turn
to the mice behind it and say, "Here is Mr. Camera-eyed Cat?" No! We
walked along, my knees feeling like pats of butter, and presently Ed
Caspian and his companion blocked our way, filling the whole horizon. "I
want to introduce my friend Mr. Moyle, Mrs. Winston," said Ed. "And Mr.
Moyle, this is Mr. Peter Storm."

Beads of perspiration came out on my nose, which Aunt Mary always used
to tell me was most unladylike and ought never to happen. My heart and I
just stood still together!

Murmuring something more like a hiccup than a "How do you do?" I saw
Peter use his eyes like grappling irons on the camera-eyes of Mr. Moyle.
Then his magnetism, like a band of pirates, swarmed aboard of the
other's mentality. He put out his hand and shook the hand of the man,
whether Camera eyed Dick wished to shake hands or not, and with that
shake, the lamp seemed suddenly to be snatched away from behind the
aquamarines.

"How do you do, Mr. Moyle? Pleased to meet you," Peter said slowly.

"Pleased to meet _you_," echoed Mr. Moyle. His Shakespearean forehead
had turned red, and there was a slight gasp in his voice, a tone sliding
up instead of down. His queer eyes (rather bald-looking because his
light lashes curl right up and away from them, leaving them very wide
open) turned off their lights, as I said. But though they were vacant
compared to what they had been when professionally on the alert, they
had a curious effect as if they would _burst_ if he couldn't laugh. This
may have been produced by the lashes turning up so much. I couldn't make
it out at all, anyhow. And the whole _affair_ is past my making out.
Now, what should _you_ say Peter did to quell Camera-eyed