“I am afraid not,” Philippa agreed sweetly.
“Under the circumstances,” Captain Griffiths asked, “you will not, I am sure, expect me to dine to-night.”
“Not if you object to meeting Mr. Hamar Lessingham,” Philippa replied.
Her visitor's face suddenly darkened, and Philippa wondered vaguely whether anything more than professional suspicion was responsible for that little storm of passion which for a moment transformed his appearance. He quickly recovered, however.
“I may still,” he concluded, moving towards the door, “be forced to present myself here in another capacity.”
CHAPTER XXII
The confinement of the house, after the departure of her unwelcome visitor, stifled Philippa. Attired in a mackintosh, with a scarf around her head, she made her way on to the quay, and, clinging to the railing, dragged herself along to where the fishermen were gathered together in a little group. The storm as yet showed no signs of abatement.
“Has anything been heard of Ben Oates' boat?” she enquired.
An old fisherman pointed seawards.