“I’ll get my hat on, if you’ll wait a minute,” she said, quietly.
She rose and went upstairs, and Fraser with a cheerful glance at Mrs. Wheeler entered into conversation with her husband about overside work in the docks, until the door was pushed open a little to reveal Miss Tyrell ready for walking.
They walked on for some little time in silence. The sun had set, and even in the close streets of Poplar the evening air was cool and refreshing. When this fact had thoroughly impressed itself on Mr. Fraser’s mind he communicated it to Miss Tyrell.
“It’s very pleasant,” she answered, briefly. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“About a lot of things,” said Fraser. “What a tremendous lot of children there are about here.”
Miss Tyrell coldly admitted an obvious fact, and stepping out into the road to avoid spoiling a small maiden’s next move at “hop scotch,” returned to the pavement to listen to a somewhat lengthy dissertation upon the game in question.
“What did you want to say to me?” she asked at length, turning and regarding him.
“In the first place,” said Fraser, “I wanted to tell you that, though nothing has been heard of Captain Flower, I feel certain in my own mind that he has not been drowned.”
Miss Tyrell shook her head slowly.
“Then I ought to tell you that I have left the Foam” continued the other. “I think that there is some idea that I knocked Flower overboard to get his place.”