“I haven’t yet decided whether I shall go there or not. It all depends upon circumstances,” he answered rather abruptly.
Then they turned into a restaurant for luncheon, and the captain celebrated the occasion with a bottle of Pommery, which Nanette assisted him to drink.
A week had passed.
Before a large fire in the private parlour of the Ship Hotel, at Bude, Percy Willoughby sat with legs stretched out and feet upon the fender. The ancient hostelry, which, although styled a hotel, was merely an inn, stood in a somewhat sheltered position under the rocks, and faced the sea. Fishermen were its chief customers, but on this particular night the smacks were out, and the place was comparatively quiet, with the exception of two loungers, who were holding a noisy argument in the bar. The room was low, with heavy oak beams across a ceiling blackened by the smoke of years, a sanded floor, a wide old-fashioned hearth, and straight-backed wooden chairs that had evidently done duty for a century. A tall, antiquated clock ticked solemnly in a corner, and the efforts at ornamentation were mostly in the form of shell-boxes and faded wool-flowers.
The wind moaned dismally in the chimney, and aroused the captain from his reverie.
“I suppose she’ll come,” he murmured aloud, as he rose, and, going to the window, drew back the curtain. The night was dark and cloudy. Nothing could be seen except the distant flashing light at sea, which glimmered for a moment like a star and disappeared. “The weather is certainly not very propitious, and I’m afraid if I went out alone in this confoundedly dark hole I should lose myself. But of course she’ll come,” he added reassuringly. “She dare not disappoint me.” And he dashed the curtains together again and returned to his chair.
A few minutes afterwards Valérie entered. She wore a long fur-lined cloak, and a thick dark veil concealed her features.
“At last I’m here,” she said glancing round, as if half fearful lest she should be recognised, and walking over to the fire, she warmed her benumbed hands. “It was by the merest chance that I was able to come. We’ve been dining with some people about a mile away, and I at last managed to slip out.”
As she loosened her cloak he noticed that underneath she wore a charming toilet of pale blue silk.
“Well,” he said, after they had greeted one another and seated themselves before the fire. “The affair we planned at Spa has proved successful, Valérie, and we’re man and wife no longer.”