Mr. Heard laughed; a forced, mirthless laugh.
“And we don't want you following us about,” said Mr. Dix, sharply. “If it'll ease your mind, and do you any good to know, you never had a chance She told me so.”
“I sha'n't follow you,” said Mr. Heard; “it's your last evening, so you'd better make the most of it.”
He turned on his heel, and the mate, pondering on his last words, went thoughtfully on to the house.
Amid the distraction of pleasant society and a long walk, the matter passed from his mind, and he only remembered it at nine o'clock that evening as a knock sounded on the door and the sallow face of Mr. Heard was thrust into the room.
“Good-evening all,” said the intruder.
“Evening, Arthur,” said Mr. Smith, affably.
Mr. Heard with a melancholy countenance entered the room and closed the door gently behind him. Then he coughed slightly and shook his head.
“Anything the matter, Arthur?” inquired Mr. Smith, somewhat disturbed by these, manifestations.