"What?" said the Captain, really a little astonished this time.
"And there 's the rain and—and the night and—and all that," she murmured in some confusion.
"No man who has ever seen you—" began the Captain.
"Hush! What's that?" whispered she, grasping his arm nervously. The Captain, recalled to the needs of the situation, abandoned his compliment, or argument, whichever it was, and listened intently.
There were voices outside the hut, some little way off, seeming to come from above, as though the speakers were on the crest of the hill. They were audible intermittently, but connectedly enough, as though their owners waited from time to time for a lull in the gusty wind before they spoke.
"Hold the lantern here. Why, it's past seven! He ought to be here by now."
"We 've searched every inch of the ground."
"That's Paul de Roustache," whispered the Captain.
"Perhaps he 's lying down out of the storm somewhere. Shall we shout?"
"Oh, if you like—but you risk being overheard. I 'm tired of the job."