“Secrets!” Atkins laughed, or tried to.  “I ain’t got any secrets,” he declared, “any more than you have.”

The latter half of this speech shut off further questioning.  Brown turned hastily away, and the lightkeeper went into his bedroom and finished dressing.

“Find your shirt?” asked the young man an hour or so later.

“Hey?  Yes, yes; I found it.”

“In your room?  That’s odd.  I could have sworn I saw it out here.  Is that it you’re wearing?”

“Hey?  No.  That was—­was sort of s’iled, so I put on my other one.  I—­I cal’late I’ll go over and work on the Daisy M. a spell, unless you need me.”

“I don’t need you.  Go ahead.”

The time dragged for John Brown after his superior’s departure.  There was work enough to be done, but he did not feel like doing it.  He wandered around the house and lights, gloomy, restless and despondent.  Occasionally he glanced at the clock.

It was a beautiful afternoon, just the afternoon for a swim, and he was debarred from swimming, not only that day, but for all the summer days to come.  No matter what Seth’s new secret might be, it was surely not connected with the female sex, and Brown would be true to the solemn compact between them.  He could not bathe in the cove because Miss Graham would be there.

At four o’clock he stood in the shadow of the light tower looking across the cove.  As he looked he saw Miss Graham, in bathing attire, emerge from the bungalow and descend the bluff.  She did not see him and, to make sure that she might not, he dodged back out of sight.  Then he saw something else.

Out on the dunes back of the barn he caught a glimpse of a figure darting to cover behind a clump of bushes.  The figure was a familiar one, but what was it doing there?  He watched the bushes, but they did not move.  Then he entered the house, went upstairs, and cautiously peered from the back attic window.

The bushes remained motionless for some minutes.  Then they stirred ever so slightly, and above them appeared the head of Seth Atkins.  Seth seemed to be watching the cove and the lights.  For another minute he peered over the bushes, first at the bathing waters below and then at his own dwelling.  Brown ground his teeth.  The light-keeper was “spying” again, was watching to see if he violated his contract.

But no, that could not be, for now Seth, apparently sure that the coast was clear, emerged from his hiding place and ran in a stooping posture until he reached another clump further off and nearer the end of the cove.  He remained there an instant and then ran, still crouching, until he disappeared behind a high dune at the rear of the bungalow.  And there he stayed; at least Brown did not see him come out.