"Do you never allow visitors to go there?"
"Never," answered Parkson emphatically.
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth turned her resplendent countenance upon him. There was a vivid colour in her cheeks; the rich curve of her lips glowed scarlet.
"How wonderful it all is—and, I suppose," she went on, looking at him with what he and any other man would have believed to be admiration, "you are watching and waiting, all day and all night—waiting for the enemy?"
"Something of the sort," answered Parkson wearily. "You never know; he may come any time."
"Do you expect him?"
They were at the top of the steps which led to the lower fort, the superb panorama of Alum Bay, the Ponsonby Lighthouse and the English coast lay at their feet.
"I can't say that we expect him any longer," answered Parkson, naturally, "but we live in hope!"
"I suppose the fort is very strong?"
"I expect it's capable of doing its bit," Parkson answered judicially.