I drew back into the shadow. Her stiff skirt almost struck me on the cheek as she passed, and, crossing the verandah, leant with both hands on the rail, while her face went up to the sky and the newly risen moon.
A voice spoke to her from the moonlit terrace below.
"Hallo!" she answered. "Is that Captain Branscome?"
"It is, ma'am: and Miss Plinlimmon—Amelia—as she allows me to call her."
Miss Belcher cut him short with a laugh. It rang out frank and free enough, and only I, crouching by the wall, understood the hysterical springs of it.
"You two geese!" she exclaimed, and ran down the steps to them.
"Was that Lydia?" demanded Mr. Rogers, a moment later, as he came along the verandah.
"It was," I answered.
"I don't understand these people," grumbled Mr. Rogers, pausing and scratching his head. "There was to have been a meeting outside here, directly after supper, to divide off Doctor Beauregard's share; but confound it if every one don't seem to be playing hide-and-seek! Where's the Doctor?"
"In the dining-room," said I, nodding towards the window. . . .