The Dénouement.

Being naturally a straightforward man, and not gifted with much power in the way of plotting and scheming, Captain Wopper began in time to discover that he had plunged his mental faculties into a disagreeable state of confusion.

“Gillie, my lad,” he said, looking earnestly at his satellite while they walked one afternoon along the Bayswater road in the direction of Kensington, “it’s a bad business altogether.”

Gillie, not having the smallest idea what the Captain referred to, admitted that it was “wery bad indeed,” but suggested that “it might be wuss.”

“It’s such a perplexin’ state o’ things,” pursued the Captain, “to be always bouncin’ up an’ down wi’ hopes, an’ fears, an’ disappointments, like a mad barometer, not knowin’ rightly what’s what or who’s who.”

“Uncommon perplexin’,” assented Gillie. “If I was you, Cappen, I’d heave the barometer overboard along wi’ the main-deck, nail yer colours to the mast, cram the rudder into the lee-scuppers, kick up your flyin’-jib-boom into the new moon, an’ go down stern foremost like a man!”

“Ha!” said the Captain, with a twinkle in the corner of his “weather-eye,” “not a bad notion.”

“Now, my lad, I’m goin’ out to my villa at Kensington to dine. There’s to be company, too, an’ you’re to be waiter—”

“Stooard, you mean?”

“Well, yes—stooard. Now, stooard, you’ll keep a good look-out, an’ clap as tight a stopper on yer tongue as may be. I’ve got a little plot in hand, d’ee see, an’ I want you to help me with it. Keep your eye in a quiet way on Dr Lawrence and Miss Gray. I’ve taken a fancy that perhaps they may be in love with each other. You just let me have your opinion on that pint after dinner, but have a care that you don’t show what you’re up to, and, whatever you do, don’t be cheeky.”

“All right,” said the stooard, thrusting both hands into his trouser-pockets; “I’ll do my best.”

While these two were slowly wending their way through Kensington Gardens, Emma Gray arrived at the Captain’s villa—California Cottage, he called it—and rang the bell. The gate was opened by Netta White, who, although not much bigger than when first introduced to the reader, was incomparably more beautiful and smart. Mrs Stoutley had reason to be proud of her.

“I did not know that you were to be here, Netta?” said Emma, in surprise, as she entered.

“It was a very sudden call, Miss,” said Netta, with a smile. “Captain Wopper wrote a note to me, begging me to ask Mrs Stoutley to be so good as lend me to him for a day to help at his house-warming. Here is the letter, Miss.”

Emma laughed as she glanced carelessly at the epistle, but became suddenly grave, turned white, then red, and, snatching the letter from the girl’s hand, gazed at it intently.

“La! Miss, is anything wrong?”

“May I keep this?” asked Emma.

“Certainly, Miss, if you wish it.”

Before she could say anything more, they were interrupted by the entrance of Dr Lawrence. With a surprised look and smile he said—

“I have been invited to dine with our friend Captain Wopper, but did not anticipate the pleasure of meeting Miss Gray here.”

Emma explained that she also had been invited to dine with the Captain, along with her mother and brother, but had supposed that that was all the party, as he, the Captain, had mentioned no one else, and had been particular in begging her to come an hour before the time, for the purpose of going over his new villa with him, and giving him her private opinion of it.

“I am punctual,” she added, consulting her watch; “it is just four o’clock.”

“Four! Then what is the dinner hour?”

“Five,” answered Emma.

“The Captain’s wits must have been wool-gathering,” rejoined Lawrence, with a laugh. “He told me to come punctually at four. However, I rejoice in the mistake, as it gives me the great pleasure of assisting you to form an unprejudiced opinion of the merits of the new villa. Shall we begin with an exploration of the garden?”

Emma had no cause to blush at such an innocent proposal, nevertheless a richer colour than usual mantled on her modest little face as she fell in with the Doctor’s humour and stepped out into the small piece of ground behind the house.

It was of very limited extent and, although not surrounded too closely by other villas, was nevertheless thoroughly overlooked by them, so that seclusion in that garden was impossible. Recognising this fact, a former proprietor had erected at the lower end of the garden a bower so contrived that its interior was invisible from all points except one, and that was a side door to the garden which opened on a little passage by which coals, milk, meat, and similar substances were conveyed from the front to the rear of the house.

Dr Lawrence and Emma walked round and round the garden very slowly, conversing earnestly. Strange to say, they quite forgot the object which had taken them there. Their talk was solely of Switzerland. As it continued, the Doctor’s voice deepened in tones and interest, and his fair companion’s cheek deepened in colour. Suddenly they turned into the bower. As they did so, ............