"Have you told Edward that you are going to sea?" inquired Mr. Chalk,
leaning over to Tredgold.
"Certainly not," was the reply; "I don't want anybody to know till the
last possible moment. You haven't given your wife any hint as to why you
are going to Biddlecombe to-day, have you?"
Mr. Chalk shook his head. "I told her that you had got business there,
and that I was going with you just for the outing," he said. "What
she'll say when she finds out--"
His imagination failed him and, a prey to forebodings, he tried to divert
his mind by looking out of window. His countenance cleared as they
neared Biddlecombe, and, the line running for some distance by the side
of the river, he amused himself by gazing at various small craft left
high and dry by the tide.
A short walk from the station brought them to the mouth of the river
which constitutes the harbour of Biddlecombe. For a small port there was
a goodly array of shipping, and Mr. Chalk's pulse beat faster as his gaze
wandered impartially from a stately barque in all the pride of fresh
paint to dingy, sea-worn ketches and tiny yachts.
Uncertain how to commence operations, they walked thoughtfully up and
down the quay.
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