no chance that night. Germinal, the negro, had come out on the road and he had accosted him, intending to have him call Jessica out, in secret. But Germinal had nearly died of fright, thinking him a ghost, and had made off at top speed.
Peter Pomeroy had by now a pretty fair idea of what was going on; he decided that the only thing to do was to arrest Teck and his gang—to do it suddenly, unexpectedly, so as to give them no chance to escape. That was how he happened to appear so conveniently at the very spot where he was needed, ably assisted by four officers from Newport News.
He extended a pressing invitation to Val to stay at the cottage with them for a few days; which invitation was seconded by Jessica. Not that any such invitation to Val needed to be pressing.
•••••
It was several days later that Val had a conversation with his man Eddie.
“Eddie,” he said, “what do you think of marriage?”
Eddie looked at him slowly. “I’ve heard it very highly spoken of, sir,” he replied.
“I know, Eddie, but as an institution⸺”
“I think marriage is a very good thing—for the unmarried, sir,” came back Eddie respectfully.
“You’ll get yours some day—they always do,” declared Val, gazing at his man in indecision as to just how to receive his last remark. “I was just trying to tell you,” Val went on, “about Miss Pomeroy and—er—I was just saying—I mean that I⸺”
“I congratulate you, sir,” said Eddie, calmly. “I hope you and Miss Pomeroy will be happy.” He dis-
