She sat in her room upstairs after the visitors had gone, thinking it
over. The light was fading fast, and as she sat at the open window the
remembrance of Mr. Tredgold's conduct helped to mar one of the most
perfect evenings she had ever known.
Downstairs the captain was also thinking. Dialstone Lane was in shadow,
and already one or two lamps were lit behind drawn blinds. A little
chatter of voices at the end of the lane floated in at the open window,
mellowed by distance. His pipe was out, and he rose to search in the
gloom for a match, when another murmur of voices reached his ears from
the kitchen. He stood still and listened intently. To put matters
beyond all doubt, the shrill laugh of a girl was plainly audible. The
captain's face hardened, and, crossing to the fireplace, he rang the
bell.
"Yessir," said Joseph, as he appeared and closed the door carefully
behind him.
"What are you talking to yourself in that absurd manner for?" inquired
the captain with great dignity.
"Me, sir?" said Mr. Tasker, feebly.
"Yes, you," repeated the captain, noticing with surprise that the door
was slowly opening.
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