Captain Francis Newcombe felt the girl's hand tighten in a tense grip on his arm. Rather curious, this! The figure was making for that hedge of bushes that seemed to enclose the verandah from below. And now, reaching the hedge, and pausing for an instant to look around him again in every direction, the man parted the bushes and disappeared under the verandah.
"My word!" observed Captain Francis Newcombe tersely. "What's it about? A thief in the night—or what? I'll see what the beggar's up to anyway!"
He took a step forward, but Polly held him back.
"Keep quiet!" she breathed. "It's—it's only Mr. Marlin."
Captain Francis Newcombe whistled low under his breath.
"As bad as that, is he?"
Polly nodded her head.
"Yes," she said a little miserably. "I'm afraid so; though it's the first time I ever saw anything like this."
"But what is he doing under the verandah there at this hour?" demanded Captain Francis Newcombe.
Polly shook her head this time.