"Not in the hall, miss, if you will excuse me."

"Not in the hall!"

"And not in the house either, if I may make so bold."

"What do you mean?" She turned impatiently, and appealed to me. "Do
_you_ understand him?"

John Jago signed to me imploringly to let him answer for himself.

"Bear with me, Miss Naomi," he said. "I think I can make you understand
me. There are eyes on the watch, and ears on the watch, in the house;
and there are some footsteps--I won't say whose--so soft, that no
person can hear them."

The last allusion evidently made itself understood. Naomi stopped him
before he could say more.

"Well, where is it to be?" she asked, resignedly. "Will the garden do,
Mr. John?"

"Thank you kindly, miss; the garden will do." He pointed to a
gravel-walk beyond us, bathed in the full flood of the moonlight.
"There," he said, "where we can see all round us, and be sure that
nobody is listening. At ten o'clock." He paused, and addressed himself
to me. "I beg to apologize, sir, for intruding myself on your
conversation. Please to excuse me."