"I am handicapped," I pointed out, "by drunken habits, a beard, and Mother Beagle's Beautiful Black Dye. No, Jack, I do not see orange blossom this trip." "Apart from these romantic dreams," persisted my cousin, "she is far more likely to be inquisitive about you if you never go near the house. In fact I could see it in her eye to-day." "Well," I said, "I'll call to-morrow and dispel her interest in me." Since my talk with the doctor, his theory about Jean Rendall had crossed my mind occasionally, and improbable as it was, I thought I might as well test it. "By the way," I asked, "did you by any chance ever speak to Miss Rendall about my last visit to the island?" His look of surprise was a sufficient answer in itself. "Speak to her of your adventure? Not a word at any time! Why?" "The doctor has an idea that she knows more than she says, and that you may have told her something." "Rubbish!" "I knew it was," I assured him. And so that possibility was finally eliminated. We thought it wiser that our ways should part some little distance from the pier. "Good-luck, old chap," said he, shaking my hand. "Keep playing the game you're at and don't worry about trying to keep a lookout at nights. That's being done already, and though I don't believe the fellows are much use--not with such crafty devils against them--you can't do anything to help 'em. Getting out at night is too risky, and you're too far away at the house. Your game is to work it from the other end. Sooner or later they are absolutely bound to give you a clue." His spirit and my little discovery of the morning sent me back in a distinctly more hopeful mood. VII A REMINISCENCE Next day I set out in the early afternoon to pay my call. The fine weather still held, bright sunshine with a nip in the air and the road underfoot firm with frost, and I strode along in a wonderfully confident mood, all things considered. For to tell the truth, I had been funking this visit. Instinctively I did not trust myself with Miss Jean Rendall. If she had any suspicions and if she turned on to me the art of her sex and the charms of her particular self, I was well aware that Thomas Sylvester would have a bad time of it. In fact I really dared not answer for the fellow's nerve. He being both critical and susceptible, a girl with Jean's distinctive aroma was dangerous company with a job of this kind on hand. And playing the whisky-enfeebled fool in a dirty black beard ceased entirely to amuse me when the other party was Miss Rendall. However, this morning Mr. Hobhouse felt braver, and stepped out briskly, resolved to do his bit. As he approached the house, the front door opened and the very lady herself appeared. She carried a stick and was evidently setting forth on a walk. "This is very nice of you to come so soon, Mr. Hobhouse," she said. "I am glad I hadn't gone further before you appeared."