"Quick!" she whispered.
Mr. Catesby stepped into the lighted room.
"The front-door is open," whispered Prudence. "Make haste. I'll close
it."
She followed him to the door; he made an ineffectual attempt to seize her
hand, and the next moment was pushed gently outside and the door closed
behind him. He stood a moment gazing at the house, and then hastened
back to his ship.
"Seven to-morrow," he murmured; "seven to-morrow. After all, there's
nothing pays in this world like cheek--nothing."
He slept soundly that night, though the things that the second-engineer
said to him about wasting a hard-working man's evening would have lain
heavy on the conscience of a more scrupulous man. The only thing that
troubled him was the manifest intention of his friend not to let him slip
through his fingers on the following evening. At last, in sheer despair
at his inability to shake him off, he had to tell him that he had an
appointment with a lady.
"Well, I'll come, too," said the other, glowering at him. "It's very
like she'll have a friend with her; they generally do."
"I'll run round and tell her," said Catesby. "I'd have arranged it
before, only I thought you didn't care about that sort of thing."
"Female society is softening," said the second-engineer. "I'll go and
put on a clean collar."
[Illustration: "I'll go and put on a clean collar.
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