the open air. There are women in there"--he pointed towards
the drawing-room--"and one with a mole. I daresay it's all right--
but it seemed to me a very big mole."

And leaving the Honourable Frederic to gasp, he staggered from the
house.

What happened in the drawing-room of "The Bower" after he left it
will never be known, for the ladies of Troy are silent on the point.

It was ten o'clock at night, the hour when men may cull the bloom of
sleep. Already the moon rode in a serene heaven, and, looking in at
the Club window, saw the Admiral and Lawyer Pellow--"_male feriatos
Troas_"--busy with a mild game of _ecarte_. There were not enough to
make up a loo to-night, for Sam and Mr. Moggridge were absent, and
so--more unaccountably--was the Honourable Frederic. The moon was
silent, and only she, peering through the blinds of "The Bower,"
could see Mr. and Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys hastily packing their boxes; or
beneath the ladder, by the Admiral's quay-door, a figure stealthily
unmooring the Admiral's boat.

To say that Sam Buzza did not relish his task were but feebly to
paint his feelings, as, with the paddles under one arm, and the
thole-pins in his pocket, he crept down the ladder and pushed off.
Never before had the plash of oars seemed so searching a sound; never
had the harbour been so crowded with vessels; and as for buoys, small
craft, and floating logs, they bumped against his boat at every
stroke. The moon, too, dogged him with persistent malice, or why was
it that he rode always in a pool of light? The ships' lamps tracked
him as so many eyes. He carried a bull's-eye lantern in the bottom
of his boat, and the smell of its oil and heated varnish seemed to
smell aloud to Heaven.

With heart in mouth, he crossed the line of the ferry, and picked his
way among the vessels lying off the jetties. On one of these vessels
somebody was playing a concertina, and as he crept under its counter
a voice hailed him in German. He gave no answer, but pulled quickly
on. And now he was clear again, and nearing Kit's House under the
left bank. There was no light in any window, he noticed, with a
glance over his shoulder. Still in the shadow, and only pulling out,
here and there, to avoid a jutting rock, he gained the creek's mouth,
and rowed softly up until the bulwarks of the old wreck overhung him.

The very silence daunted him now; but it must be gone through.
Thinking to deaden fear by hurry, he ca