Varney did not answer her. His eyes were glued upon Maginnis, and he called in a strange voice: "You have been waiting for us." "Haven't budged a step," answered Peter, moving out upon the landing. And he added what seemed an odd remark to Miss Carstairs: "I knew you were coming back." He greeted Mary at the foot of the stairs, cordially, and begged the privilege of escorting her to any destination it might be her fancy to name. But she stoutly declined his good offices, as she had Varney's a moment before, declaring that she could not think of troubling so busy and important a man. "But where did you spirit Mr. Hare off to, if I might ask?" she said. "On a very important mission I assure you, madam,--that is, Miss Carstairs," said Peter, diplomatically, having no idea how matters stood. "He begged me to let him go back and say good-bye to you, but I told him I'd make it a personal matter." "I am awfully glad that you have stopped calling me 'madam,'" said Mary, rather inconsequently. "I _did_ hate it so!" And she walked off up the woodland path, swinging her recovered parasol, and finding herself with a good deal to think about. Peter, coming on deck, found his friend waiting for him, taut as a whipcord. "Well, old horse!" said Maginnis. "Welcome back to jolly little Hunston." "The machinery broke down on me," said Varney, turning away to light a cigarette. "Sure," said Peter cheerfully. "You knew it was going to do it when you started. I read it in your eye when we said farewell forever." "You are quite mistaken," said Varney. "Ask Ferguson." "Oh! Then you'll do it to-morrow morning, when the machinery is all right again?" "No," said Varney, "nor at any other time." The two men looked at each other steadily, unwinkingly. As the look lengthened, each face gave way to a slow reluctant smile. "I won't pretend," said Peter, "that I am disappointed in you. I never dreamed that I hated this thing till the time came, and hang me if I don't rather like that little girl." "It was a thing," said Varney, "that simply couldn't be done. We were a pair of asses not to see that all along." He glanced hurriedly at his watch and started for the companionway. "Jove! I'll have to hustle." "Hustle! Where the devil to?" "I'm off to New York by the five o'clock train to tell Uncle Elbert that I've resigned. I'll feel mighty mean doing it, too." "Well, don't anticipate trouble," called Peter dryly. "You can't feel mean by the five o'clock train, however much you may deserve--" "Why not?" "There isn't any. She goes through at four-seven. You'll have to compose yourself to wait till eight-ten, unless you want to walk."