egan to swim around him. But this could
not have lasted for long; because, as he looked into her eyes, still
seeking an explanation, she broke off the half-hysterical laugh that
answered him, and pulled her hand away sharply at a sound behind them.

Someone was throwing gravel against the window.

"Commandant!" a voice hailed from the darkness without.

For an instant the two stood as if petrified. Then with a second glance
at the window, to make sure that the curtain was drawn, Vashti tip-toed
swiftly to the door, catching up the guitar on her way.

"Hi! Commandant! Are you waking or sleeping in there?"

The Commandant stepped to the curtain. Vashti opened the door and
slipped out into the passage. The door closed upon her as he pulled the
curtain aside for a second time that night and opened the casement.

"Who's there?"

"So you _are_ awake?" answered the voice of Mr. Rogers. "May I come
in?" And, silence being apparently taken for consent, a foot and leg
followed the voice across the window-sill.

CHAPTER XXI

SUSPICIONS

The foot and leg were followed by Mr. Rogers' entire person, and Mr.
Rogers, having thus made good his entrance, stood blinking, with an
apologetic laugh. "You'll excuse me--but I took it for granted the door
was barred, and seeing a glimmer of light in the window here----"

"Anything wrong?" asked the Commandant.

"Nothing's wrong, I hope"--Mr. Rogers stepped over to the warm fire.
"But something's queer." He fished out a pipe from the pocket of his
thick pilot coat, filled it, lit up, and sank puffing into the
arm-chair from which, a minute ago, Vashti had snatched up her guitar.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed, as his eyes fell upon the empty packing-case.
"You don't mean to tell me that you've been smuggling?"

The Commandant shook his head and laughed, albeit with some confusion.
"The steamer brought it this morning. I assure you it held nothing
contraband.... But I hope that little game is not starting afresh in
the Islands? It gave us a deal of trouble in the old days; and there
was quite an outbreak of it, as I remember, some three or four years
before you came to us. Old Penkivel"--this was Mr. Rogers'
predecessor--"used to declare that it turned his hair gray."

"He told me something beside, on the morning he sailed for the
mainland; which was that but for the help you gave him as Governor he
could never have grappled with it. Maybe this was sticking in my head
just now whe