ed he had stopped
somewhere and would turn up all right in the morning, though she
admitted that he was not in the habit of staying out of a night. Anyway,
she was an old woman and all alone, and she was not going out to look
for him at that time of night.

The morning surprised her by his continued absence. Never in his life,
so far as she knew, had he behaved like this before. Vituperation of him
gave place to anxiety about him.

She questioned the neighbours. All they knew was that he had been seen
going down to Little Sark soon after sunset.

"That black Frenchwoman of Tom Hamon's twists him round her finger,"
said one.

"You tie him up, Mrs. Guille," chuckled another, "or sure as beans
she'll steal him from you and leave you in the cold."

And then, who should they see coming striding along the road but Madame
Julie herself, and evidently in a hurry;--in a state of red-hot
excitement, too, as she drew near. And they waited, hands on hips, to
hear what she was up to now.

"Where's Peter?" she demanded, a long way in advance. "Tell him I want
him. That man Gard is still on L'Etat, though those fools who went
across for him couldn't find him. Cre nom! What are you all staring at,
then?"

"Where's our Peter?" demanded Mrs. Guille shrilly, with the strident
note of fear in her voice, as she becked and bobbed towards the
Frenchwoman like an aged cormorant.

"Peter? I'm asking you. I want him. Where is he?"

"He went to Little Sark last night, and he's never come home."

"Never come home? Why, what's taken him? If he'd been with me last night
he'd have seen something! That Nance Hamon swam across to the rock with
nothing on but her shift to take food to Gard, and I caught her at
it--the shameless hussy!"

"Maybe Peter's heard of it an' gone across with 'em again," suggested
one. "He was terrible hot against Gard."

"And reason he had to be hot against him," cried Julie. "Who'll find out
for me where he's got to, and when they're going out after Gard? I would
go too and see the end of him."

A couple of burly husbands came rolling round the corner towards their
breakfasts and caught her words.

"Doubt you'll have to go alone, mistress," said one, phlegmatically.
"There's ghosts on L'Etat, they do say, though sure the one John
Drillot brought across was dead enough."

"If he's there," said the other, plumbing Julie's feelings, "he's safe
as a pig in a pen."

"Where's our Peter?" demanded Mrs. Guille.