“Have you talked to my sister like that?” Gerald asked eagerly.
“I have and I will again,” Hamel declared. “To-morrow morning I leave this house, but before I go I mean to have the affair of this man Dunster cleared up. Your uncle will be very angry with me, without a doubt. I don’t care. But I do want you to trust me, if you will, and your sister. I should like to be your friend.”
“God knows we need one!” the boy said simply. “Good night!”
Once more the house was quiet. Hamel pushed his window wide open and looked out into the night. The air was absolutely still, there was no wind. The only sound was the falling of the low waves upon the stony beach and the faint scrunching of the pebbles drawn back by the ebb. He looked along the row of windows, all dark and silent now. A rush of pleasant fancies suddenly chased away the grim depression of the last few minutes. Out of all this sordidness and mystery there remained at least something in life for him to do. A certain aimlessness of purpose which had troubled him during the last few months had disappeared. He had found an object in life.
CHAPTER XXI
“To-day,” Hamel declared, as he stood at the sideboard the following morning at breakfast-time and helped himself to bacon and eggs, “I am positively going to begin reading. I have a case full of books down at the Tower which I haven’t unpacked yet.”
Esther made a little grimace.
“Look at the sunshine,” she said. “There isn’t a breath of wind, either. I think to-day that I could play from the men’s tees.”
Hamel sighed as he returned to his place.