"I will go to bed," he muttered; "I have been upset lately, and these
fits of mine may well pass into hallucination. Once think of these
women and--"
He stopped as if shot. From behind the wreck a small boat shot out
into the moon's brilliance. Two figures sat in it, a woman and a
man; and as the boat dropped swiftly down on the ebb he had time to
notice that both were heavily muffled about the face. This was all
he could see, for in a moment they had passed into the gloom, and the
next the angle of the house hid them from view; but he could still
hear the plash of their oars above the sounds of the night.
"The leper and his sweetheart," was Mr. Fogo's first thought.
But then followed the reflection--would ghostly oars sound?
On the whole, he decided against the supernatural. But the mystery
remained. More curious than agitated, but nevertheless with little
inclination to resume his communing with the night, Mr. Fogo sought
his hammock and fell asleep.
The sun was high when he awoke, and as he descended to breakfast
he heard Caleb's mallet already at work on the quay below.
Still, anxious to set his doubts at rest, he made a hasty meal, and
walked down to take a second opinion on the vision.
Caleb, with his back towards the house, was busily fitting a new
thwart into Mr.
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