So for a while they thought no more of Mary—as was natural enough. They had so much to talk about, the whole of a new and very wonderful life to speculate about and to plan, the whole of their past acquaintance to review; old doubts had to be confessed and laughed at; the inevitability of the whole thing from the first beginnings had to be recognized, proved, and exhibited. In this sweet discourse the minutes flew by unmarked, and would have gone on flying, had not Jeanne reappeared of her own accord, to remark that it really was very late now; did mademoiselle think that possibly anything could have happened to Doctor Arkroyd?
"By Jove, it is late!" cried the Captain, looking at his watch. "It's past one!"
Cynthia was amazed to hear that.
"He must be very ill, that old gentleman," Jeanne opined. "And poor Doctor Arkroyd will be very tired. She will find the walk across the heath very fatiguing."
"Walk, Jeanne? Didn't she take the car?" cried Cynthia, surprised.
No, the doctor had not taken the car; she had started to walk with Mr. Beaumaroy; the parlourmaid had certainly told Jeanne that.
"I tell you what," said the Captain. "I'll just tool along to Tower Cottage. I'll look out for Doctor Mary on the road, and give her a lift back if I meet her. If I don't, I can stop at the cottage and get Beaumaroy to tell her that I'm there, and can wait to bring her home as soon as she's ready. You'd better go to bed, Cynthia."
Jeanne tactfully disappeared, and the lovers said good-night. After Alec's departure, Jeanne received the anticipated confidence.
That departure almost synchronized with two events at Tower Cottage. The first was Beaumaroy's exit from the front door, leaving Mary in charge of his prisoner who, consequently, was unable to keep any watch on the road or to warn his principals of approaching danger. The second was big Neddy's declaration that, in his opinion, the sack now held about as much as he could carry. He raised it from the floor in his two hands. "Must weigh a 'undred pound or more!" he reckoned. That meant a lot of money, a fat lot of money. His terrors had begun to wear off, since nothing of a supernatural or even creepy order had actually happened. He had, at last, even agreed to the candles being put out. Still he would be glad to be off. "Enough's as good as a feast, as the sayin' goes, Mike," he chuckled.
Mike had fitted a new battery into his torch. It shone brightly on Neddy and on the sack, whose mouth Neddy was now tying up. "I might fill my pockets too," he suggested, eyeing the very respectable amount of sovereigns which still remained in Captain Duggle's tomb.