“The captain!” exclaimed Mr Hazlit.
“Impossible!” murmured Aileen.
“Pirates!” cried Miss Pritty, turning deadly white, and preparing to fall into Edgar’s arms, but curiosity prevented her.
There could be no mistake. The bright glittering eyes, the black beard and moustache, the prominent nose, the kindly smile, the broad chest and shoulders, revealed unquestionably the captain of the Rajah’s gun-boat.
“Miraculous!” cried Edgar, as he wrung the captain’s right hand. “We were just talking of the great fight of which this is the anniversary.”
“Amazing coincidence!” exclaimed Mr Hazlit, seizing the other hand.
“Not so much of a coincidence as it seems, however,” said the captain with a laugh, as he shook hands with the ladies, “for I made arrangements on purpose to be here on the anniversary day, thinking that it might add to the interest of my visit.”
“And to come just at dinner-time too,” said Miss Pritty, who had recovered.
“Another coincidence,” observed Aileen, with an arch look.
“Come—come in—here, this way, captain,” cried Mr Hazlit, dragging his friend by the hand. “Welcome—heartily welcome to Sea Cottage.”