Reaching the tenant cottage outside the grounds Pen said: "We could save time by cutting across here, but we'd leave a wide open track through the wet weeds. We'll have to go around." They followed the road to the broken gate, and making the turn, kept along outside the fence until they got well in the rear of the cottage. Here the faintly marked path worn by Pen crossed the road, and they turned into it. The motor-boat had come to her moorings. Breaking into a sort of staggering run under their burdens they were soon received into the woods. "I must get back to the house before they do," Pen panted. The glade with its tiny temple presented a scene of unearthly beauty. A shaft of moonlight was silvering the pale dome. The deep bowl below the bank was full to the brim of moonlight. A gasp of astonishment escaped Counsell. "What's this?" "Afraid of ghosts?" asked Pen. "Try me!" he laughed. They cast their burdens on the ground. There was no time for lengthy explanations or leave-takings. "Listen!" said Pen. "Pitch your tent among the bushes at the back of the tomb." "I'll rig it from the branches," he said. "Won't drive stakes." "Good! Keep back from the edge of the bank during the day. A small boat might come into the pond, looking for you. But no native will come near this spot. It's not safe to build a fire. What have you to eat?" "Plenty of bread, cooked meat, eggs." "When I come again I'll bring more. And a little oil stove. The water in the pond is not fit to drink, but you'll find a spring at the foot of the bank. Watch well before you show yourself in the open." "When will you come again?" he asked urgently. "When it is safe ... To-morrow night I think." "The time will pass slowly until then," he said simply. He picked up her hand and pressed it hard to his cheek. Pen snatched away her hand and fled--fled from she knew not what. Trying to fly from the shattering commotion in her breast perhaps, which of course she carried with her. As she ducked through her own particular gap in the fence she could quite clearly hear the two men, coming up the road from the beach talking together in tones of chagrin. She sped to the house and upstairs to her room. Aunt Maria was asleep in a chair. Pen awakened her with a violent shake, and commenced to undress. "Quick! my night-dress!" she cried. "Throw these wet things into a closet. Remember to say you put me to bed as soon as Dad went out and we both fell asleep!" "Bless God, honey! Bless God!" repeated Aunt Maria. Nevertheless she bestirred herself. When the two men knocked on the door a sleepy voice bade them enter. All was peace within the room. Aunt Maria struggled to her feet assiduously knuckling her eyes; Pen lay in bed with the bedclothes to her chin, her eyes languourous as if but just opened. "You see," said Doctor Hance. "It is just as I told you. Everything is all right."