Dusk was drawing on, but there was still a little light in the western
sky, when Vane strolled along the terrace in front of the Dene. In the
distance the ranks of fells rose black and solemn out of filmy trails of
mist, but the valley had faded to a trough of shadow. A faint breeze was
stirring, and the silence was broken by the soft patter of withered
leaves which fluttered down across the lawn. Vane noticed it all by some
involuntary action of his senses, for although, at the time, he was
oblivious to his surroundings, he afterward found that he could recall
each detail of the scene with vivid distinctness. He was preoccupied and
eager, but fully aware of the need for coolness, for it was quite
possible that he might fail in the task he had in hand.

Presently he saw Evelyn, for whom he had been waiting, cross the opposite
end of the terrace. Moving forward he joined her at the entrance to a
shrubbery walk. A big, clipped yew with a recess in which a seat had been
placed stood close by.

"I have been sitting with Mopsy," said Evelyn. "She seems very little the
worse for her adventure--thanks to you." She hesitated and her voice grew
softer. "I owe you a heavy debt--I am very fond of Mopsy."

"It's a great pity she fell in," Vane declared curtly.

Evelyn looked at him in surprise. She scarcely thought he could regret
the efforts he had made on her sister's behalf, but that was what his
words implied. He noticed her change of expression.

"The trouble is that the thing might seem to give me some claim on you;
and I don't want that," he explained. "It cost me no more than a wetting;