e, what should you say to her?"

"I should say nothing," replied Captain Wragge. "I should return at once
by the back way; I should let Mrs. Lecount see me in the front garden
as if I was taking a turn before breakfast; and I should leave her to
suppose that I was only just out of my room. If she asks you whether you
mean to come here today, say No. Secure a quiet life until circumstances
force you to give her an answer. Then tell the plain truth--say that Mr.
Bygrave's niece and Mrs. Lecount's description are at variance with each
other in the most important particular, and beg that the subject may not
be mentioned again. There is my advice. What do you think of it?"

If Noel Vanstone could have looked into his counselor's mind, he might
have thought the captain's advice excellently adapted to serve the
captain's interests. As long as Mrs. Lecount could be kept in ignorance
of her master's visits to North Shingles, so long she would wait until
the opportunity came for trying her experiment, and so long she might
be trusted not to endanger the conspiracy by any further proceedings.
Necessarily incapable of viewing Captain Wragge's advice under this
aspect, Noel Vanstone simply looked at it as offering him a temporary
means of escape from an explanation with his housekeeper. He eagerly
declared that the course of action suggested to him should be followed
to the letter, and returned to Sea View without further delay.

On this occasion Captain Wragge's anticipations were in no respect
falsified by Mrs. Lecount's conduct. She had no suspicion of her
master's visit to North Shingles: she had made up her mind, if
necessary, to wait patiently for his interview with Miss Bygrave until
the end of the week; and she did not embarrass him by any unexpected
questions when he announced his intention of holding no personal
communication with the Bygraves on that day. All she said was, "Don't
you feel well enough, Mr. Noel? or don't you feel inclined?" He
answered, shortly, "I don't feel well enough"; and there the
conversation ended.

The next day the proceedings of the previous morning were exactly
repeated. This time Noel Vanstone went home rapturously with a keepsake
in his breast-pocket; he had taken tender possession of one of Miss
Bygrave's gloves. At intervals during the day, whenever he was alone,
he took out the glove and kissed it with a devotion which was almost
passionate in its fervor. The miserable little creature lu