Mrs. Pepper rose at length, and went into the back room to prepare tea. As she left the door open, however, and took the captain’s hat with her, he built no hopes on her absence, but turned furiously to the ex-pilot.
“What’s to be done?” he inquired in a fierce whisper. “This can’t go on.”
“It’ll have to,” whispered the other.
“Now, look here,” said Crippen menacingly, “I’m going into the kitchen to make a clean breast of it. I’m sorry for you, but I’ve done the best I can. Come and help me to explain.”
He turned to the kitchen, but the other, with the strength born of despair, seized him by the sleeve and held him back.
“She’ll kill me,” he whispered breathlessly.
“I can’t help it,” said Crippen, shaking him off. “Serve you right.”
“And she’ll tell the folks outside, and they’ll kill you,” continued Pepper.
The captain sat down again, and confronted him with a face as pale as his own.
“The last train leaves at eight,” whispered the pilot hurriedly. “It’s desperate, but it’s the only thing you can do. Take her for a stroll up by the fields near the railway station. You can see the train coming in for a mile off nearly. Time yourself carefully, and make a bolt for it. She can’t run.”