The sound of voices at last aroused him. It came from his left, and he peered around the corner of the warehouse. For a few seconds he could see no one, but he knew there were people not far off who were talking in a most earnest manner. Presently, out of the darkness stepped a man and a woman, and passed directly under the electric lamp. He saw their faces distinctly, especially the woman's, which was strained and haggard, as she listened to her companion. As they came nearer and stood close to the edge of the dock, it was possible for Douglas to overhear parts of the conversation. He could not see their faces now, though he could observe their forms, and he knew that the woman was standing near the water, and it was quite evident that she was weeping.
"But you promised me, Ben; you really did," she was saying.
"I know I did, Jean, but we must wait a while," was the reply.
"But we cannot wait," the woman urged. "You know how serious it is if we delay much longer. All will know, and I shall be disgraced."
"Tut, tut," and the man stamped angrily upon the floor of the dock.
"Don't talk so foolishly. A few weeks won't make any difference."
"How long do you think?" the woman asked.
"Oh, five or six, I should imagine."
"No, I tell you that will be too late. It must not be longer than two.
Promise me that it will not be more than that."
"Well, I promise," the man slowly assented.
"Swear to it, then," the woman demanded. "Place your left hand upon your heart, and hold your right hand up to heaven, and swear by Him who is watching and listening that you will be true to your word."