“You disappear!” concluded Pepper triumphantly; “and, of course, believing her first husband is alive, she has to leave me. She’s a very particular woman; and, besides that, I’d take care to let the neighbours know. I’m happy, you’re happy, and, if she’s not happy, why, she don’t deserve to be.” “I’ll think it over,” said Crippen, “and write and let you know.” “Make up your mind now,” urged Pepper, reaching over and patting him encouragingly upon the shoulder. “If you promise to do it, the thing’s as good as done. Lord! I think I see you now, coming in at that door and surprising her. Talk about acting!” “Is she what you’d call a good-looking woman?” inquired Crippen. “Very handsome!” said Pepper, looking out of the window. “I couldn’t do it!” said the captain. “It wouldn’t be right and fair to her.” “I don’t see that!” said Pepper. “I never ought to have married her without being certain her first was dead. It ain’t right, Crippen; say what you like, it ain’t right!” “If you put it that way,” said the captain hesitatingly. “Have some more gin,” said the artful pilot. The captain had some more, and, what with flattery and gin, combined with the pleadings of his friend, began to consider the affair more favourably. Pepper stuck to his guns, and used them so well that when the captain saw him off that evening he was pledged up to the hilt to come down to Sunset Bay and personate the late Captain Budd on the following Thursday. The ex-pilot passed the intervening days in a sort of trance, from which he only emerged to take nourishment, or answer the scoldings of his wife. On the eventful Thursday, however, his mood changed, and he went about in such a state of suppressed excitement that he could scarcely keep still. “Lor’ bless me!” snapped Mrs. Pepper, as he slowly perambulated the parlour that afternoon. “What ails the man? Can’t you keep still for five minutes?” The ex-pilot stopped and eyed her solemnly, but, ere he could reply, his heart gave a great bound, for, from behind the geraniums which filled the window, he saw the face of Captain Crippen slowly rise and peer cautiously into the room. Before his wife could follow the direction of her husband’s eyes it had disappeared. “Somebody looking in at the window,” said Pepper, with forced calmness, in reply to his wife’s eyebrows. “Like their impudence!” said the unconscious woman, resuming her knitting, while her husband waited in vain for the captain to enter. He waited some time, and then, half dead with excitement, sat down, and with shaking fingers lit his pipe. As he looked up the stalwart figure of the captain passed the window. During the next twenty minutes it passed seven times, and Pepper, coming to the not unnatural conclusion that his friend intended to pass the afternoon in the same unprofitable fashion, resolved to force his hand. “Must be a tramp,” he said aloud.