While thus engaged she heard the chug-chug of the launch. It must be Joe going, and anxious to see the departure of that darkling and uncomfortable spirit she went to the window. It looked out across the slant of roofs that covered the kitchen wing and commanded a side-view of the channel. Across the swift-sweeping current the boat came into view, skimming forward like a home-faring bird. Anne leaned over the sill, following it with startled eyes--where was Joe? There was Gabriel in front at the wheel, but in the back--she stretched her neck trying to see to the bottom of the cock-pit, there certainly was no one on the seat. “Oh, _could_ he have missed it?” she groaned and cast up her eyes as if invoking the protection of Heaven against such a calamity. But he couldn’t have, he wanted to go, it was his holiday and he thought Gull Island was a beastly hole. He must have been where she couldn’t see him. It was difficult to think where this might be--but he _might_ have been bending down to put something in his suit-case. A chair could have hidden him. She remembered what he had said about leaving his baggage at the living-room entrance. If it was still there then he had missed the boat and she ran down-stairs, hoping with a prayerful earnestness that she would not find it. It was not there. “Then he _is_ gone,” she said to herself with a satisfied nod and drew a freer breath. The weight lifted, she went across to the garden where she might find Bassett, and as she covered the space between the doors the picture of the launch rose on her inner vision with Gabriel the only visible occupant. Bassett was not in the garden, but Shine was, sauntering into view from the balcony end. He’d been loafing about he said, just come up from the Point. He’d been all round it, wonderful down there now and going to be more wonderful, and he pointed to a pale glow on the horizon where the moon was rising. They strolled about on the lanes of turf between the massed colors of parterre and border, the air languishingly sweet with the scent of the closing flowers. Then they went in, luxuriously embedding themselves in two vast armchairs. Bassett found them here and tried to look genial at the sight of Shine. He’d been writing some letters in his own room and he dropped into a third armchair with the sigh of well-earned rest. They talked about the moon and moonlight effects. Shine wanted to take some photographs after supper, get the pines against the sea and the silvered bulk of the Point, and he spoke of his flashlight picture which they’d have as a remembrance of Gull Island. Anne said that was a jolly idea, but she didn’t think they’d need a picture to remind them of their stay, and she and Bassett exchanged a smile. It was still on their lips when a sound came from outside, a single sharp detonation. It fell upon the evening’s tranquil hush, sudden and startling, like something alien and unrelated. “What was that?” said Anne.