But the afternoon wore on and no sail came in sight, none at least that could be the Astarte.
The wind grew cold as the sun dipped to its setting, and I rose with a little shiver to go home, calm but disillusioned.
“No sign of Mr. Edmund?” I asked deceitfully of Bates.
“No, sir.”
I felt that the moment had passed, that he would not now come at all, and that I should not set sail in the Astarte.
But I did not want Bates to know I had been watching for her all afternoon.
The sky had clouded over, and it was dark in my study when I heard Edmund’s voice outside.
I went out and met him coming from the passage that led to the kitchen and cellars. He must have come up the tunnel.
“Hullo,” he said. “Sorry I’m late. We were delayed starting and miscalculated the tide a bit. We expected to get the ebb sooner, however it will be making nicely now. How are you? How do you do, Mr. Snape?”
“Is the Astarte here?” I asked.