Mrs. Sheppard and the servant had retired to rest, worn out with the anxious uncertainties of events reported from the lighthouse.
So Brand went to the door, and the girls listened in nervous foreboding.
"Hello, Jenkins, what is the matter now?"
Jenkins was a sergeant of police whom they knew.
"Sorry to trouble you, Mr. Brand, but an odd thing has happened. A lady, a stranger, met me ten minutes ago, and asked me to direct her to your house. I did so. She appeared to be in great trouble, so I strolled slowly after her. I was surprised to see her looking in through the window of your sitting-room. As far as I could make out, she was crying fit to break her heart, and I imagined she meant to knock at the door, but was afraid."
Brand stepped out into the moonlight. The girls, white and trembling, followed.
"Well, she ran off down the garden path and tumbled in a dead faint near the gate. I was too late to save her. I picked her up and placed her on a seat. She is there now. I thought it best, before carrying her here--to tell you you--"
Before Brand moved, Constance ran out, followed by Enid. In a whirl of pain, the lighthouse-keeper strode after them. He saw Constance stooping over a motionless figure lying prone on the garden seat. To those strong young arms the slight, graceful form offered an easy task.
But the daughter, clasping her mother to her breast, said quietly:
"Dad, she has come home, and she may be dying. We must take her in."
He made no direct answer. What could he say? The girl's fearless words admitted of neither "Yes" nor "No."
"I am much obliged to you, Jenkins," he said; "we know the lady. Unless--unless there are serious consequences, will you oblige me by saying nothing about her? But stay. When you pass the Mount's Bay Hotel, please call and say that Mrs. Vansittart has been seized with sudden illness and is being cared for at my house."
As he walked away down the garden path he wondered who Mrs. Vansittart could be, and why Miss Brand said she had "come home."
Then he glanced back at the house, into which the others had vanished. He laughed.
"Just fancy it," he said; "I treated him as if he was a bloomin' lord. And I suppose my position is a better one than his. Anyhow he is a splendid chap. I'm glad now I did it, for his sake and the sake of those two girls. How nicely they were dressed. It has always been a puzzle to me how they can afford to live in that style on the pay of a lighthouse-keeper. Well, it's none of my business."