Friday morning (very early).⁠—The events of yesterday and last night have left me with more to think about than I seem to have wits to think with. Mein Gott, if I could see daylight through everything! What is ahead, Heaven knows, but here is what is behind.

Yesterday morning passed as the afternoon before had passed, in further discussion of naval statistics with Tiel⁠—with a background of Eileen. Then we had lunch, and soon afterwards Tiel put on an oilskin coat and went out. A thin fine drizzle still filled the air, drifting in clouds before a rising wind and blotting out the view of the sea almost completely. Behind it the ships were doing we knew not what; certainly they were not firing, but we could see nothing of them at all.

A little later Eileen insisted on putting on a waterproof and going out too. As the minister’s sister she had to visit a farm, she said. I believed her, of course, though I had ceased to pay much attention to Tiel’s statements as to his movements. I knew that he knew his own business thoroughly, and I had ceased to mind if he had not the courtesy to take me into his confidence. After all, if I come safely out of this business, I am not likely to meet such as Tiel again!

Left to myself, I picked up a book and had been reading for about a quarter of an hour when I was conscious of a shadow crossing the window and heard a step on the gravel. Never doubting that it was either Eileen or Tiel, I still sat reading until I was roused by the sound of voices in the hall, just outside the parlour door. One I recognised as our servant’s, the other was a stranger’s. I dropped my book and started hastily to my feet, and as I did so I heard the stranger say⁠—

“I tell you I recognise her coat. My good woman, d’ye think I’m blind? I’m coming in to wait for her, I tell you.”

The door opened, and a very large stout gentleman appeared, talking over his shoulder as he entered.

“When Miss Holland comes in, tell her Mr. Craigie is waiting to see her,” said he; and with that he closed the door and became aware of my presence.

For a moment we looked at one another. My visitor, I saw, had a grey beard, a large rosy face, and twinkling blue eyes. He looked harmless enough, but I eyed him very warily, as you can readily believe.

“It’s an awful wet day,” said he in a most friendly and affable tone.

I agreed that it was detestable.

“It’s fine for the crops all the same. The oats is looking very well; do you not think so?”

I perceived that my friend was an agriculturist, and endeavoured to humour him.

“They are looking splendid!” I said with enthusiasm.

He sat down, and we exchanged a few more remarks on the weather and the crops, in the course of which he had filled and lit a pipe and made himself entirely at home.

“Are you staying with the minister?” he inquired presently.

“I am visiting him,” I replied evasively,

“I understand Miss Holland’s here too,” said he, with an extra twinkle in his eye.

I knew, of course, that he must mean Eileen, and I must confess that I was devoured with curiosity.

“She is,” I said. “Do you know her?”

“Know her? She was my governess! Has she not told you the joke of how she left me in the lurch?”

It flashed across my mind that it might seem odd if I were to admit that “Miss Holland” had said nothing about this mysterious adventure.

“Oh yes, she has told us all about it,” I replied with assurance.

Mr. Craigie laughed heartily at what was evidently a highly humorous recollection.

“I was as near being annoyed at the time as I ever was in my life,” said he. “But, man, I’ve had some proper laughs over it since.”

He suddenly grew a trifle graver.

“Mrs. Craigie isn’t laughing, though. Between ourselves, it’s she that’s sent me on this errand today.”

He winked and nodded and relit his pipe, while I endeavoured to see a little light through the extraordinary confusion of ideas which his remarks had caused in my mind.

“Miss Holland came up to the islands as your governess, I understand,” I said in as matter-of-fact tone as I could compass.

“We got her through a Mrs. Armitage in Kensington,” said Mr. Craigie. “It seemed all right⁠—and mind you, I’m not saying it isn’t all right now! Only between you and me, Mr.⁠—?”

“Wilson,” I said promptly, breathing my thanks to Tiel at the same time.

“You’ll be a relation of the minister’s too, perhaps?”

“I am on government business,” I replied in a suitable tone of grave mystery.

“Damn it, Mr. Wilson,” exclaimed my friend with surprising energy, “everyone in the country seems to be on government business nowadays⁠—except myself! And I’ve got to pay their salaries! We’re asked in the catechism what’s our business in this weary world, and damn it, I can answer that conundrum now! It’s just to pay government officials their wages, and build a dozen or two new Dreadnoughts, and send six million peaceable men into the army, and fill a pile of shells with trinitrol-globule-paralysis, or whatever they call the stuff, and all this on the rental of an estate which was just keeping me comfortably in tobacco before this infernal murdering business began! Do you know what I’d do with that Kaiser if I caught him?”

I looked as interested as possible, and begged for information.

“I’d give him my wife and my income, and see how he liked the mess he’s landed me in!”

Though Mr. Craigie had spoken with considerable vehemence, he had not looked at all fierce, and now his not usually very intellectual face began to assume a thoughtful expression.

“He’s an awful fool, yon man!” he observed.

“Which man?” I inquired.

“Billy,” said he, and with a gasp I recognised my Emperor in this brief epithet. “It’s just astounding to me how he never learns that hot coals will burn his fingers, and water won’t run uphill! He’s always trying the silliest things.”

His eyes suddenly began to twinkle again, and he asked abruptly⁠—

“Why’s the Kaiser like my boots?”

I gave it up at once.

“Because he’ll be sold again soon!” he chuckled. “That’s one of my latest, Mr. Wilson. I’ve little to do in these weary times but make riddles to amuse my girls and think of dodges for getting a rise out of my wife. I had her beautifully the other day! We’ve two sons at the front, you must know, and one of them’s called Bob. Well, I got a letter from him, and suddenly I looked awful grave and cried, ‘My God, Bob’s been blown up’⁠—you should have seen Mrs. Craigie jump⁠—‘by his Colonel!’ said I, and I tell you she was nearly as put about to find I’d been pulling her leg as if he’d really been blown to smithereens. Women are funny things.”

I fear I scarcely laughed as much as he expected at this extraordinary instance of woman’s obtuseness, but he did not seem to mind. He was already filling another pipe, and having found an audience, was evidently settling down to an afternoon’s conversation⁠—or rather an afternoon’s monologue, for it was quite clear he was independent of any assistance from me. I was resolved, however, not to forgo this chance of learning something more about Eileen.

“You were talking about Miss Holland,” I said hurriedly, before he had time to get under way again.

“Oh, so I was. And that reminds me I’ve come here just to make some inquiries about the girl.”

Again his blue eyes twinkled furiously.

“Why’s Miss Holland like our hall clock?” he inquired. “I may mention by the way that it’s always going slow.”

Again I gave it up.

“Because you take her hand and get forward! That was one for my wife’s benefit. It made her fairly sick!”

“Do you mean,” I demanded, “that you were actually in the habit of holding Miss⁠—er⁠—Holland’s hand?”

“Oh, no fears. I’m past that game. But Mrs. Craigie is a great one for p’s and q’s and not being what she calls vulgar, and a joke like that is a sure draw. I get her every time with my governess riddles. Here’s a good one now⁠—Why’s a pretty governess like a⁠—”

In spite of the need for caution, my impatience was fast overcoming me.

“Then you have been sent by Mrs. Craigie to make inquiries about Miss Holland?” I interrupted a trifle brusquely.

Mr. Craigie seemed at least to have the merit of not taking offence readily.

“That’s the idea,” he agreed. “You see, it’s this way: my wife’s been at me ever since our governess bolted, as she calls it. Well now, what’s the good in making inquiries about a thing that’s happened and finished and come to an end? If it was a case of engaging another governess, that’s a different story. I’d take care not to have any German spies next time!”

“German spies!” I exclaimed, with I hope well-simulated horror; “you don’t mean to suspect Miss Holland of that surely!”

“Oh, ‘German Spy’ is just a kind of term nowadays for anyone you don’t know all about,” said Mr. Craigie easily. “Everyone you haven’t seen before is a German Spy. I spotted five myself in my own parish at the beginning of the war, and Mrs. Craigie wrote straight off to the Naval Authorities and reported them all.”

“And were they actually spies?” I asked a trifle uncomfortably.

“Not one of them!” laughed he. “The nearest approach was a tinker who’d had German measles! Ha, ha! It’s no good my wife reporting any more spies, and I just reminded her of that whenever she worried me, and pulled her leg a bit about me and Miss Holland being in the game together, and so it was all right till she got wind of a girl who was the image of the disappearing governess being here at the manse as Mr. Burnett’s sister, and then there was simply no quieting her till I’d taken the car and run over to see what there was in the story. Mind you, I didn’t think there was a word of truth in it myself; but when I’d got here, by Jingo, there I saw Miss Holland’s tweed coat in the hall! Now that’s a funny kettle of fish, isn’t it?”

I didn’t say so, but I had to admit that he was not so very far wrong. The audacity of the performance was quite worthy of Tiel, but its utter recklessness seemed not in the least like him. Had the vanishing governess’s employer been anyone less easygoing than Mr. Craigie, how readily our whole scheme might have been wrecked! Even as it was, I saw detection staring me straight in the face. However, I put on as cool and composed a face as I could.

“I understood that Miss Holland’s brother had written to you about it,” I said brazenly.

“Oh! he is really her brother, is he?” said he, looking at me very knowingly.

“Certainly.”

“He being Burnett and she Holland, eh?”

“You have heard of half-brothers, haven’t you?” I inquired with a condescending smile.

“Oh, I have heard of them,” winked Mr. Craigie as good-humouredly as ever; “only I never happened to have heard before of half-sisters running away from a situation they’d taken without a word of warning, just whenever their half-brothers whistled.”

“Did Mr. Burnett whistle?” I inquired, with (I hope) an air of calm and slightly superior amusement.

“Someone sent her a wire, and I presume it was Mr. Burnett,” said he. “By Jingo!”

He stopped suddenly with an air as nearly approaching excitement as was conceivable in such a gentleman.

“What’s the matter?” I asked a trifle anxiously.

“One might get a good one about how to make a governess explode, the answer being ‘Burn it!’ By Jove, I must think that out.”

Before I could recover from my amazement at this extraordinary attitude, he had suddenly resumed his shrewd quizzical look.

“Are you an old friend of Mr. Burnett?” he inquired.

“Oh, not very,” I said carelessly.

“Then perhaps you’ll not be offended by my saying that he seems a rum kind of bird,” he said confidentially.

“In what way?”

“Well, coming up here just for a Sunday to preach a sermon, and then not preaching it, but staying on as if he’d taken a lease of the manse⁠—him and his twelve-twenty-fourths of a sister!”

“But,” I stammered, before I could think what I was saying, “I thought he did preach last Sunday!”

“Not him! Oh, people are talking a lot about it.”

This revelation left me absolutely speechless. Tiel had told me distinctly and deliberately that he had gone through the farce of preaching last Sunday⁠—and now I learned that this was a lie. What was worse, he had assured me that he was causing no comment, and I now was told that people were “talking.” Coming straight on top of my discovery of his reckless conduct of Eileen’s affair, what was I to think of him?

It was at this black moment that Tiel and Eileen entered the room. My heart stood still for an instant at the thought that, in their first surprise, something might be disclosed or some slip made by one of us. But the next instant I saw that they had learned who was here and were perfectly prepared.

“How do you do, Mr. Craigie!” cried Eileen radiantly.

Mr. Craigie seemed distinctly taken aback by the absence of all signs of guilt or confusion.

“I’m keeping as well as I can, thank you, considering my anxiety,” said he.

“About my sister, sir?” inquired Tiel with his most brazen effrontery, coming forward and smiling cordially. “Surely you got my letter?”

I started. The man clearly had been at the keyhole during the latter part of our conversation, or he could hardly have made this remark fit so well into what I had said.

“I’m afraid I didn’t.”

“Tut, tut!” said Tiel, with a marvellously well-assumed air of annoyance. “The local posts seem to have become utterly disorganised. Apparently they pay no attention to civilian letters at all.”

“You’re right there,” replied Mr. Craigie with feeling. “The only use we are for is just to be taxed.”

“What must you think of us?” cried Eileen, whose acting was fully the equal of Tiel’s. “However, my brother will explain everything now.”

“Yes,” said Tiel; “if Mr. Craigie happens to be going⁠—and I’m afraid we’ve kept him very late already⁠—I’ll tell him all about it as we walk back to his car.”

He gave Mr. Craigie a confidential glance as though to indicate that he had something private for his ear. Our visitor, on his part, was obviously reluctant to leave an audience of three, especially as it included his admired governess; but Tiel handled the situation with quite extraordinary urbanity and skill. He managed to open the door and all but pushed Mr. Craigie out of the room, without a hint of inhospitality, and solely as though he were seeking only his convenience. I could scarcely believe that this was the man who had made at least two fatal mistakes⁠—mistakes, at all events, which had an ominously fatal appearance.

When Mr. Craigie had wished us both a very friendly goodbye and the door had closed behind him, I turned instantly to Eileen and cried, perhaps more hotly than politely⁠—

“Well, I have been nicely deceived!”

“By whom?” she asked quietly.

“By you a little and by Tiel very much!”

“How have I deceived you?”

I looked at her a trifle foolishly. After all, I ought to have realised that she must have had some curious adventure in getting into the islands. She had never told me she hadn’t, and now I had merely found out what it was.

“You never told me about your governess adventure⁠—or Mr. Craigie⁠—or that you were called Holland,” I said rather lamely.

She merely laughed.

“You never asked me about my adventures, or I should have. They were not very discreditable after all.”

“Well, anyhow,” I said, “Tiel has deceived me grossly, and I am going to wring an explanation out of him!”

She laid her hand beseechingly on my arm.

“Don’t quarrel with him!” she said earnestly. “It will do no good. We may think what we like of some of the things he does, but we have got to trust him!”

“Trust him! But how can I? He told me he preached last Sunday⁠—I find it was a lie. He said nobody in the parish suspected anything⁠—in consequence of his not preaching, I find they are all ‘talking.’ He mismanaged your coming here so badly that if old Craigie weren’t next door to an imbecile we should all have been arrested days ago. How can I trust him now?”

“Say nothing to him now,” she said in a low voice. “Wait till tomorrow! I think he will tell you then very frankly.”

There was something so significant and yet beseeching in her voice that I consented, though not very graciously.

“I can hardly picture Herr Tiel being very ‘frank’!” I replied. “But if you ask me⁠—”

I bowed my obedience, and then catching up her hand pressed it to my lips, saying⁠—

“I trust you absolutely!”

When I looked up I caught a look in her eye that I could make nothing of at all. It was beyond question very kind, yet there seemed to be something sorrowful too. It made her look so ravishing that I think I would have taken her in my arms there and then, had not Tiel returned at that moment.

“Well,” asked Eileen, “what did you tell Mr. Craigie?”

“I said that you were secretly married to Mr. Wilson, whose parents would cut him off without a penny if they suspected the entanglement, and this was the only plan by which you could spend a few days together. Of course I swore him to secrecy.”

For a moment I hesitated whether to resent this liberty, or to feel a little pleased, or to be amused. Eileen laughed gaily, and so I laughed too. And that was the end (so far) of my afternoon adventure.