cherry trees. Then he walked slowly along the path that led
upward, winding to and fro through clusters of pines and cedars
and over mossy slopes to the little house which stood in a
clearing at the top of the garden surrounded by fir trees and
backed by a high creeper-clad palisade.

From the wide verandah, built out on piles over the terrace, there
was an uninterrupted view of the harbour. He climbed the four
wooden stairs and on the top step turned and looked again down on
to the bay. The yacht was now invisible, but in his mind he
followed her slipping down toward the open sea. And Atherton--what
were his thoughts while pacing the broad deck or lying in his
cabin listening to the screw whose every revolution was taking him
nearer the centre of his earthly happiness? Were they anything
like his own, he wondered, as he stood there bareheaded in the
moonlight, looking strangely big and incongruous on the balcony of
the little fairylike doll's house?

He shrugged impatiently. The comparison was an insult, he thought
bitterly. Again he stared out to sea, straining his eyes; trying
vainly to pick up the yacht's lights far down the bay. It was very
still, a tiny breeze whispered in the pines and drifted across his
face the sweet perfume of a flowering shrub. A cicada chirped in
the grass at his feet.

Then behind him came a faint rustle of silk. He heard the soft
sibilant sound of a breath drawn quickly in.

"Will my lord honourably be pleased to enter?" the voice was very
low and sweet and the English very slow and careful.