we'll moor your boat for you," and against the wan, gray light in the doorway saw Jim and Elspeth. She hugged them both in her relief and excitement, and drew them into the living-room. Outside, just visible in the dawn, the crew of the surf-boat were mooring the Ailouros. Jim had a torn handkerchief about his forehead and looked rather haggard and strained.
"Don't talk very loudly," Joan whispered. "He's asleep—at last, at last. Oh, there's so much to hear and tell!"
"We know well enough that the Light went out, and why," Jim said; "but we've been hearing wild tales as to how it was lighted again. How much of Captain Blake's story is true?"
Joan told it all, quickly and vividly, from the beginning. Elspeth stood beside the little shelf where the knife had lain, and her hands were clasped very tightly. A strange look came into Jim's eyes; his mouth was set in a stern line. He stooped and picked up the telescope, which lay under the table, and put it back slowly on the shelf without a word. But presently he said in a distant, detached voice, as though he hardly knew what he was saying:
