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MARY LAKE MEMORIAL

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ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

Vol. XI

THE WRONG BOX
THE EBB TIDE *

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*THE NOVELS as: >

tales or ROCI :■ T

LOUIS STEVENFo:*

* PUBLISHED IN
NEW YORK BV
CHARLES SCR I "XIV "
SONS * $ 1(j:i *

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" A ceridin in blankets,

rcmaint i for an then toppled

to on- Ut and heavily

jm by ALFRED BREtfNAN.

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* THE NOVELS AND
TALES OF ROBERT
LOUIS STEVENSON

HE WRONG BOX
t THE EBB TIDE

^PUBLISHED IN
NEW YORK BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S
SONS C * 1911 t

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PACT

IN WHICH MORRIS SUSPECTS . i

IN WHICH MORRIS TAKES ACTION 17

THE LECTURER AT LARGE 35

THE MAGISTRATE IN THE LUGGAGE VAN 48

MR. GIDEON FORSYTH AND THE GIGANTIC BOX . . 54

THE TRIBULATIONS OF MORRIS: PART THE FIRST . 66

IN WHICH WILLIAM DENT PITMAN TAKES LEGAL
ADVICE 8)

IN WHICH MICHAEL FINSBURY ENJOYS A HOLIDAY . 97

GLORIOUS CONCLUSION OF MICHAEL FINSBURY'S
HOLIDAY 119

GIDEON FORSYTH AND THE BROADWOOD GRAND . 137

THE MAESTRO JIMSON 148

POSITIVELY THE LAST APPEARANCE OF THE BROAD-

WOOD GRAND 167

THE TRIBULATIONS OF MORRIS: PART THE SECOND. 178
WILLIAM BENT PITMAN HEARS OF SOMETHING TO

HIS ADVANTAGE 190

THE RETURN OF THE GREAT VANCE 207

FINAL ADJUSTMENT OF THE LEATHER BUSINESS . . 215

270830

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CONTENTS

THE EBB TIDE
A TRIO AND QifARTBTTB

Part I
THE TRIO

CHAPTER PAGE

I Night on thi Beach 223

II Morning on the Beach. — The Three Letters .... 238

III The Old Calaboose. — Destiny at the Door .... 250

IV The Yellow Flao 262

V The Cargo op Champagne 270

VI The Partners 298

Part D
THE QUARTETTE

.VII The Pearl Fisher 311

VIII Better Acquaintance 329

IX The Dinner-Party 345

X The Open Door 356

XI David and Goliath 372

XII A Tail-piece 396

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CONTENTS

PAOI

THE WRONG BOX i

Written in collaboration with Lloyd Osboumc.

THE EBB TIDE 221

A TRIO AND QUARTETTE
Written in collaboration with Lloyd Osbourne.

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PREFACE

"Nothing like a little judicious levity/' says Michael Finsbury in the
text: nor can any better excuse be found for the volume in the
reader's hand. The authors can but add that one of them is old
enough to be ashamed of himself, and the other young enough to
learn better.

R. L. S.

L. O.

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WvrnM n Collaboration with Lloyd Ostoutm

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CHAPTER I

IN WHICH MORRIS SUSPECTS

HOW very little does the amateur, dwelling at home
at ease, comprehend the labours and perils of the
author, and, when he smilingly skims the surface of a
work of fiction, how little does he consider the hours of
toil, consultation of authorities, researches in the Bod-
leian, correspondence with learned and illegible Ger-
mans — in one word, the vast scaffolding that was first
built up and then knocked down, to while away an
hour for him in a railway train! Thus I might begin
this tale with a biography of Tonti — birthplace, parent-
age, genius probably inherited from his mother, remark-
able instance of precocity, etc. — and a complete treatise
on the system to which he bequeathed his name. The
material is all beside me in a pigeon-hole, but I scorn to
appear vainglorious. Tonti is dead, and I never saw
anyone who even pretended to regret him; and as for
the tontine system, a word will suffice for all the pur-
poses of this unvarnished narrative.
A number of sprightly youths (the more the merrier)

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put up a certain sum of money, which is then funded in
a pool under trustees; coming on for a century later, the
proceeds are fluttered for a moment in the face of the
last survivor, who is probably deaf, so that he cannot
even hear of his success — and who is certainly dying,
so that he might just as well have lost The peculiar
poetry and even humour of the scheme is now apparent,
since it is one by which nobody concerned can possibly
profit; but its fine, sportsmanlike character endeared it
to our grandparents.

When Joseph Finsbury and his brother Masterman
were little lads in white-frilled trousers, their father — a
well-to-do merchant in Cheapside — caused them to
join a small but rich tontine of seven and thirty lives.
A thousand pounds was the entrance fee; and Joseph
Finsbury can remember to this day the visit to the law-
yer's, where the members of the tontine — all children
like himself — were assembled together and sat in turn
in the big office-chair, and signed their names with the
assistance of a kind old gentleman in spectacles and
Wellington boots. He remembers playing with the
children afterward on the lawn at the back of the law-
yer's house, and a battle royal that he had with a brother
tontiner, who had kicked his shins. The sound of
war called forth the lawyer from where he was dispens-
ing cake and wine to the assembled parents in the office,
and the combatants were separated, and Joseph's spirit
(for he was the smaller of the two) commended by the
gentleman in the Wellington boots, who vowed he
had been just such another at the same age. Joseph
wondered to himself if he had worn at that time little
Wellingtons and a little bald head, and when (in bed at

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night) he grew tired of telling himself stories of sea-
fights, he used to dress himself up as the old gentle-
man, and entertain other little boys and girls with cake
and wine.

In the year 1840 the thirty-seven were all alive; in
1850 their number had decreased by six; in 1856 and
1857 business was more lively, for the Crimea and the
Mutiny carried off no less than nine. There remained
in 1870 but five of the original members, and at the
date of my story, including the two Finsburys, but
three.

By this time Masterman was in his seventy-third year;
he had long complained of the effects of age, had long
since retired from business, and now lived in absolute
seclusion under the roof of his son Michael, the well-
known solicitor. Joseph, on the other hand, was still
up and about, and still presented but a semi-venerable
figure on the streets in which he loved to wander. This
was the more to be deplored, because Masterman had
led (even to the least particular) a model British life.
Industry, regularity, respectability, and a preference for
the four per cents, are understood to be the very founda-
tions of a green old age. All these Masterman had emi-
nently displayed, and here he was, ab agendo, at seventy-
three; while Joseph, barely two years younger, and in
the most excellent preservation, had disgraced himself
through life by idleness and eccentricity. Embarked in
the leather trade, he had early wearied of business, for
which he was supposed to have small parts. A taste
tor general information, not promptly checked, had soon
begun to sap his manhood. There is no passion more
debilitating to the mind, unless, perhaps, it be that itch

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of public speaking which it not infrequently accompa-
nies or begets. The two were conjoined in the case of
Joseph ; the acute stage of this double malady, that in
which the patient delivers gratuitous lectures, soon de-
clared itself with severity, and not many years had
passed over his head before he would have travelled
thirty miles to address an infant-school. He was no
student; his reading was confined to elementary text-
books and the daily papers; he did not even fly as high
as cyclopaedias; life, he would say, was his volume.
His lectures were not meant (he would declare) for
college professors; they were addressed direct to "the
great heart of the people," and the heart of the people
must certainly be sounder than its head, for his lucubra-
tions were received with favour. That entitled, " How
to Live Cheerfully on Forty Pounds a Year," created a
sensation among the unemployed. "Education: Its
Aims, Objects, Purposes, and Desirability," gained him
the respect of the shallow-minded. As for his cele-
brated essay on " Life Insurance Regarded in its Relation
to the Masses," read before the Working Men's Mutual
Improvement Society, Isle of Dogs, it was received
with a " literal ovation " by an unintelligent audience of
both sexes. And so marked was the effect that he was
next year elected honorary president of the institution,
an office of less than no emolument, since the holder
was expected to come down with a donation, but one
which highly satisfied his self-esteem.

While Joseph was thus building himself up a reputa-
tion among the more cultivated portion of the ignorant,
his domestic life was suddenly overwhelmed by orphans.
The death of his younger brother Jacob saddled him

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with the charge of two boys, Morris and John; and in
the course of the same year his family was still further
swelled by the addition of a little girl, the daughter of
John Henry Hazeltine, Esq., a gentleman of small prop-
erty and fewer friends. He had met Joseph only once,
at a lecture-hall in Holloway; but from that formative
experience he returned home to make a new will, and
consign his daughter and her fortune to the lecturer.
Joseph had a kindly disposition; and yet it was not
without reluctance that he accepted this new responsi-
bility, advertised for a nurse, and purchased a second-
hand perambulator. Morris and John he made more
readily welcome ; not so much because of the tie of con-
sanguinity as because the leather business (in which he
hastened to invest their fortune of thirty thousand
pounds) had recently exhibited inexplicable symptoms
of decline. A young but capable Scot was chosen as
manager to the enterprise, and the cares of business
never again afflicted Joseph Finsbury. Leaving his
charges in the hands of the capable Scot (who was mar-
ried), he began his extensive travels on the Continent
and in Asia Minor.

With a polyglot Testament in one hand and a phrase-
book in the other, he groped his way among the speak-
ers of eleven European languages. The first of these
guides is hardly applicable to the purposes of the philo-
sophic traveller, and even the second is designed more
expressly for the tourist than for the expert in life. But
he pressed interpreters into his service — whenever he
could get their services for nothing — and by one means
and another filled many note-books with the results of
his researches.

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In these wanderings he spent several years, and only
returned to England when the increasing age of his
charges needed his attention. The two lads had been
placed in a good but economical school, where they had
received a sound commercial education; which was
somewhat awkward, as the leather business was by no
means in a state to court inquiry. In fact, when Joseph
went over his accounts preparatory to surrendering his
trust, he was dismayed to discover that his brother's
fortune had not increased by his stewardship; even by
making over to his two wards every penny he had in
the world, there would still be a deficit of seven thou-
sand eight hundred pounds. When these facts were
communicated to the two brothers in the presence of a
lawyer, Morris Finsbury threatened his uncle with all
the terrors of the law, and was only prevented from
taking extreme steps by the advice of the professional
man.

" You cannot get blood from a stone, " observed the
lawyer.

And Morris saw the point, and came to terms with
his uncle. On the one side, Joseph gave up all that he
possessed and assigned to his nephew his contingent
interest in the tontine, already quite a hopeful specula-
tion. On the other, Morris agreed to harbour his uncle
and Miss Hazeltine (who had come to grief with the
rest), and to pay to each of them one pound a month
as pocket-money. The allowance was amply sufficient
for the old man; it scarce appears how Miss Hazeltine
contrived to dress upon it; but she did, and what is
more she never complained. She was, indeed, sin-
cerely attached to her incompetent guardian. He had

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never been unkind; his age spoke for him loudly; there
was something appealing in his whole-souled quest of
knowledge and innocent delight in the smallest mark
of admiration; and though the lawyer had warned her
she was being sacrificed, Julia had refused to add to the
perplexities of Uncle Joseph.

In a large, dreary house in John Street, Bloomsbury,
these four dwelt together; a family in appearance, in
reality a financial association. Julia and Uncle Joseph
were, of course, slaves; John, a gentleman with a taste
for the banjo, the music-hall, the Gaiety bar, and the
sporting papers, must have been anywhere a secondary
figure; and the cares and delights of empire devolved
entirely upon Morris. That these are inextricably inter-
mixed is one of the commonplaces with which the bland
essayist consoles the incompetent and the obscure, but
in the case of Morris the bitter must have largely out-
weighed the sweet. He grudged no trouble to himself,
he spared none to others; he called the servants in the
morning, he served out the stores with his own hand,
he took soundings of the sherry, he numbered the re-
mainder biscuits; painful scenes took place over the
weekly bills, and the cook was frequently impeached,
and the tradespeople came and hectored with him in
the back parlour, upon a question of three farthings.
The superficial might have deemed him a miser; in his
own eyes he was simply a man who had been de-
frauded; the world owed him seven thousand eight
hundred pounds, and he intended that the world should
pay.

But it was in his dealings with Joseph that Morris's
character particularly shone. His uncle was a rather

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gambling stock in which he had invested heavily; and
he spared no pains in nursing the security. The old
man was seen monthly by a physician, whether he was
well or ill. His diet, his raiment, his occasional out-
ings, now to Brighton, now to Bournemouth, were
doled out to him like pap to infants. In bad weather
he' must keep the house. In good weather, by half-
past nine, he must be ready in the hall; Morris would
see that he had gloves and that his shoes were sound;
and the pair would start for the leather business arm in
arm. The way there was probably dreary enough, for
there was no pretence of friendly feeling; Morris had
never ceased to upbraid his guardian with his defalca-
tion and to lament the burthen of Miss Hazel tine; and
Joseph, though he was a mild enough soul, regarded
his nephew with something very near akin to hatred.
But the way there was nothing to the journey back; for
the mere sight of the place of business, as well as every
detail of its transactions, was enough to poison life for
any Finsbury.

Joseph's name was still over the door; it was he who
still signed the cheques; but this was only policy on the
part of Morris, and designed to discourage other mem-
bers of the Tontine. In reality, the business was entirely
his ; and he found it an inheritance of sorrows. He tried
to sell it, and the offers he received were quite derisory.
He tried to extend it, and it was only the liabilities he
succeeded in extending; to restrict it, and it was only the
profits he managed to restrict. Nobody had ever made
money out of that concern except the capable Scot, who
retired (after his discharge) to the neighbourhood of Banff
and built a castle with his profits. The memory of this

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fallacious Caledonian, Morris would revile daily, as he
sat in the private office opening his mail, with old Jo-
seph at another table, sullenly awaiting orders, or sav-
agely affixing signatures to he knew not what And
when the man of the heather pushed cynicism so far as
to send him the announcement of his second marriage
(to Davida, eldest daughter of the Rev. Alexander
McCraw) it was really supposed that Morris would have
had a fit.

Business hours, in the Finsbury leather trade, had been
cut to the quick; even Morris's strong sense of duty to
himself was not strong enough to dally within those
walls and under the shadow of that bankruptcy; and
presently the manager and the clerks would draw a long
breath, and compose themselves for another day of pro-
crastination. Raw Haste, on the authority of my Lord
Tennyson, is half-sister to Delay; but the Business Hab-
its are certainly her uncles. Meanwhile, the leather-
merchant would lead his living investment back to John
Street like a puppy dog; and having there immured him
in the hall, would depart for the day on the quest of
seal rings, the only passion of his life. Joseph had more
than the vanity of man, he had that of lecturers. He
owned he was in fault; although more sinned against
(by the capable Scot) than sinning; but had he steeped
his hands in gore, he would still not deserve to be thus
dragged at the chariot-wheels of a young man, to sit a
captive in the halls of his own leather business, to be
entertained with mortifying comments on his whole
career — to have his costume examined, hk collar pulled
up, the presence of his mittens verified, and to be taken
out and brought home in custody, like an infant with a

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nurse. At the thought of it his soul would swell with
venom, and he would make haste to hang up his hat
and coat and the detested mittens, and slink up-stairs
to Julia and his note-books. The drawing-room at least
was sacred from Morris; it belonged to the old man and
the young girl; it was there that she made her dresses;
it was there that he inked his spectacles over the regis-
tration of disconnected facts and the calculation of in-
significant statistics.

Here he would sometimes lament his connection with
the Tontine. "If it were not for that," he cried one
afternoon, "he would not care to keep me. I might be
a free man, Julia. And I could so easily support myself
by giving lectures."

"To be sure you could," said she; "and I think it
one of the meanest things he ever did to deprive you
of that amusement. There were those nice people
at the Isle of Cats (wasn't it?) who wrote and asked
you so very kindly to give them an address. I did think
he might have let you go to the Isle of Cats."

" He is a man of no intelligence," cried Joseph. " He
lives here literally surrounded by the absorbing spectacle
of life, and for all the good it does him, he might just as
well be in his coffin. Think of his opportunities ! The
heart of any other young man would burn within him at
the chance. The amount of information that I have it
in my power to convey, if he would only listen, is a thing
that beggars language, Julia."

"Whatever you do, my dear, you mustn't excite
yourself," said Julia; "for you know, if you look at all
ill, the doctor will be sent for."

" That is very true," returned the old man, humbly.

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' * I will compose myself with a little study. " He thumbed
his gallery of note-books. "I wonder," he said, "I
wonder (since I see your hands are occupied) whether
it might not interest you "

" Why, of course it would," cried Julia. " Read me
one of your nice stories, there's a dear! "

He had the volume down and his spectacles upon his
nose instanter, as though to forestall some possible re-
tractation. " What I propose to read to you," said he,
skimming through the pages, " is the notes of a highly
important conversation with a Dutch courier of the name
of David Abbas, which is the Latin for abbot. Its results
are well worth the money it cost me, for as Abbas at
first appeared somewhat impatient, I was induced to
(what is, I believe, singularly called) stand him drink.
It runs only to about five and twenty pages. Yes, here
it is." He cleared his throat, and began to read.

Mr. Finsbury (according to his own report) contrib-
uted about/our hundred and ninety-nine five-hundredths
of the interview, and elicited from Abbas literally noth-
ing. It was dull for Julia, who did not require to listen ;
for the Dutch courier, who had to answer, it must have
been a perfect nightmare. It would seem as if he had
consoled himself by frequent applications to the bottle;
it would even seem that (toward the end) he had ceased
to depend on Joseph's frugal generosity, and called for
the flagon on his own account. The effect, at least, of
some mellowing influence was visible in the record:
Abbas became suddenly a willing witness ; he began to
volunteer disclosures; and Julia had just looked up from
her seam with something like a smile, when Morris burst
into the house, eagerly calling for his uncle, and the next

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instant plunged into the room, waving in the air the
evening paper.

It was indeed with great news that he came charged.
The demise was announced of Lieutenant-General Sir
Glascow Biggar, K.C.S.I., K.C.M.G., etc., and the prize
of the tontine now lay between the Finsbury brothers.
Here was Morris's opportunity at last. The brothers
had never, it is true, been cordial. When word came
that Joseph was in Asia Minor, Masterman had ex-
pressed himself with irritation. "I call it simply inde-
cent," he had said. " Mark my words — we shall hear
of him next at the North Pole." And these bitter ex-
pressions had been reported to the traveller on his re-
turn. What was worse, Masterman had refused to
attend the lecture on "Education; its aims, objects,
purpose, and desirability," although invited to the plat-
form. Since then, the brothers had not met On the
other hand, they never had openly quarrelled; Joseph
(by Morris's orders) was prepared to waive the advan-
tage of his juniority ; Masterman had enjoyed all through
life the reputation of a man neither greedy nor unfair.
Here, then, were all the elements of compromise as-
sembled; and Morris, suddenly beholding his seven
thousand eight hundred pounds restored to him, and
himself dismissed from the vicissitudes of the leather
trade, hastened the next morning to the office of his
cousin Michael.

Michael was something of a public character.
Launched upon the law at a very early age, and quite
without protectors, he had become a trafficker in shady
affairs. He was known to be the man for a lost cause,
it was known he could extract testimony from a stone,

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and interest from a gold mine; and his office was be-
sieged in consequence by all that numerous class of
persons who have still some reputation to lose, and
find themselves upon the point of losing it; by those
who have made undesirable acquaintances, who have
mislaid a compromising correspondence, or who are
blackmailed by their own butlers. In private life,
Michael was a man of pleasure; but it was thought his
dire experience at the office had gone far to sober him,
and it was known that (in the matter of investments)
he preferred the solid to the brilliant What was yet
more to the purpose, he had been all his life a consis-
tent scoffer at the Finsbury tontine.

It was therefore with little fear for the result that
Morris presented himself before his cousin, and pro-
ceeded feverishly to set forth his scheme. For near
upon a quarter of an hour, the lawyer suffered him to
dwell upon its manifest advantages uninterrupted.
Then Michael rose from his seat, and ringing for his
clerk, uttered a single clause.

"It won't do, Morris."

It was in vain that the leather merchant pleaded and
reasoned, and returned day after day to plead and rea-
son. It was in vain that he offered a bonus of one
thousand, of two thousand, of three thousand pounds;
in vain that he offered, in Joseph's name, to be content
with only one-third of the pool. Still there came the
same answer: "It won't do."

"I can't see the bottom of this," he said at last
"You answer none of my arguments, you haven't a
word to say. For my part, I believe it's malice."

The lawyer smiled at him benignly. " You may be-

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lieve one thing," said he; "whatever else I do, I am
not going to gratify any of your curiosity. You see 1
am a trifle more communicative to-day, because this is
our last interview upon the subject."

"Our last interview!" cried Morris.

"The stirrup-cup, dear boy," returned Michael. " I
can't have my business hours encroached upon. And
by the by, have you no business of your own ? Are
there no convulsions in the leather trade ? "

" I believe it to be malice," repeated Morris, doggedly.
"You always hated and despised me from a boy."

"No, no — not hated," returned Michael, soothingly.
"I rather like you than otherwise; there's such a per-
manent surprise about you, you look so dark and attrac-
tive from a distance. Do you know that to the naked
eye you look romantic? — like what they call a man
with a history. And indeed, from all that I can hear
the history of the leather trade is full of incident."

"Yes," said Morris, disregarding these remarks, "it's
no use coming here, I shall see your father."

' • Oh, no, you won't, " said Michael. • ' Nobody shall
see my father."

"I should like to know why," cried his cousin.

"I never make any secret of that," replied the law-
yer. "He is too ill."

"If he is as ill as you say," cried the other, "the
more reason for accepting my proposal. I will see
him."

"Will you?" said Michael, and he rose and rang for
his clerk.

It was now the time, according to Sir Faraday Bond,
the medical baronet whose name is so familiar at the

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foot of bulletins, that Joseph (the poor Golden Goose)
should be removed into the purer air of Bournemouth ;
and for that uncharted wilderness of villas the family
now shook off the dust of Bloomsbury: Julia delighted,
because at Bournemouth she sometimes made acquain-
tances; John in despair, for he was a man of city tastes;
Joseph indifferent where he was, so long as there was
pen and ink and daily papers, and he could avoid mar-
tyrdom at the office; Morris himself, perhaps, not dis-
pleased to pretermit these visits to the city, and have a
quiet time for thought He was prepared for any sac-
rifice; all he desired was to get his money again and
clear his feet of leather; and it would be strange, since
he was so modest in his desires and the pool amounted
to upward of a hundred and sixteen thousand pounds
— it would be strange, indeed, if he could find no way
of influencing Michael. "If 1 could only guess his
reason," he repeated to himself; and by day, as he
walked in Branksome woods, and by night, as he
turned upon his bed, and at meal times, when he for-
got to eat, and in the bathing machine, when he forgot
to dress himself, that problem was constantly before
him: why had Michael refused?

At last one night, he burst into his brother's room and
woke him.

"What's all this?" asked John.

"Julia leaves this place to-morrow," replied Morris;
"she must go up to town and get the house ready, and
find servants. We shall all follow in three days."

"Oh, brayvo!" cried John. "But why?"

' ' I've found it out, John, " returned his brother, gently.

"It? What?" inquired John.

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"Why Michael won't compromise," said Morris.
"It's because he can't It's because Masterman's dead,
and he's keeping it dark."

" Golly 1 " cried the impressionable John. " But what's
the use ? why does he do it, anyway ? "

"To defraud us of the tontine," said his brother.

• ' He couldn't ; you have to have a doctor's certificate, "
objected John.

"Did you never hear of venal doctors ?" inquired Mor-
ris. "They're as common as blackberries ; you can pick
'em up for three pound ten a head."

" I wouldn't do it under fifty if I were a sawbones,"
ejaculated John.

"And then, Michael," continued Morris, "is in the
very thick of it All his clients have come to grief; his
whole business is rotten eggs. If any man could arrange
it, he could; and depend upon it, he has his plan all
straight; and depend upon it, it's a good one, for he's
clever, and be damned to him ! But I'm clever, too ; and
I'm desperate. I lost seven thousand eight hundred
pounds when I was an orphan at school."

* ' Oh, don't be tedious, " interrupted John. f 4 You've
lost far more already trying to get it back."

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CHAPTER II

IN WHICH MORRIS TAKES ACTION

Some days later, accordingly, the three males of this
depressing family might have been observed (by a reader
of G. P. R. James) taking their departure from the East
Station of Bournemouth. The weather was raw and
changeable, and Joseph was arrayed in consequence ac-
cording to the principles of Sir Faraday Bond, a man no
less strict (as is well known) on costume than on diet.
There are few polite invalids who have not lived, or
tried to live, by that punctilious physician's orders.
"Avoid tea, madam," the reader has doubtless heard
him say, "avoid tea, fried liver, antimonial wine, and
bakers' bread. Retire nightly at 10.45 > an ^ clothe your-
self (if you please) throughout in hygienic flannel. Ex-
ternally, the fur of the marten is indicated. Do not for-
get to procure a pair of health boots at Messrs. Dall &
Crumbie's." And he has probably called you back,
even after you have paid your fee, to add with sten-
torian emphasis: "I had forgotten one caution: avoid
kippered sturgeon, as you would the very devil ! " The
unfortunate Joseph was cut to the pattern of Sir Fara-
day in every button; he was shod with the health boot;
his suit was of genuine ventilating cloth; his shirt of
hygienic flannel, a somewhat dingy fabric; and he was

■7

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draped to the knees in the inevitable great-coat of mar-
ten's fur. The very railway porters at Bournemouth
(which was a favourite station of the doctor's) marked
the old gentleman for a creature of Sir Faraday. There
was but one evidence of personal taste, a vizarded
forage-cap; from this fbrm of headpiece, since he had
fled from a dying jackal on the plains of Ephesus, and
weathered a bora in the Adriatic, nothing could divorce
our traveller.

The three Finsburys mounted into their compartment
and fell immediately to quarrelling, a step unseemly in
itself and (in this case) highly unfortunate for Morris.
Had he lingered a moment longer by the window, this
tale need never have been written. For he might then
have observed (as the porters did not fail to do) the
arrival of a second passenger in the uniform of Sir
Faraday Bond. But he had other matters on hand
which he judged (God knows how erroneously) to be
more important

"I never heard of such a thing," he cried, resuming a
discussion which had scarcely ceased all morning.
"The bill is not yours; it is mine."

"It is payable to me," returned the old gentleman,
with an air of bitter obstinacy. ' ' I will do what I please
with my own property."

The bill was one for eight hundred pounds, which
had been given him at breakfast to endorse, and which
he had simply pocketed.

' ' Hear him, Johnny I " cried Morris. ' ' His property !
the very clothes upon his back belong to me."

"Let him alone," said John, "I'm sick of both of
you."

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"That is no way to speak of your uncle, sir," cried
Joseph. "I will not endure this disrespect You are
a pair of exceedingly forward, impudent, and ignorant
young men, and I have quite made up my mind to put
an end to the whole business."

"Oh, skittles!" said the graceful John.

But Morris was not so easy in his mind. This unusual
act of insubordination had already troubled him ; and
these mutinous words now sounded ominously in his
ears. He looked at the old gentleman uneasily. Upon
one occasion many years before, when Joseph was de-
livering a lecture, the audience had revolted in a body;
finding their entertainer somewhat dry, they had taken
the question of amusement into their own hands; and
the lecturer (along with the board schoolmaster, the
Baptist clergyman, and a working-man's candidate, who
made up his bodyguard) was ultimately driven from the
scene. Morris had not been present on that fatal day;
if he had, he would have recognised a certain fighting
glitter in his uncle's eye, and a certain chewing move-
ment of his lips, as old acquaintances. But even to the
inexpert these symptoms breathed of something dan-
gerous.

"Well, well," said Morris. "I have no wish to
bother you further till we get to London."

Joseph did not so much as look at him in answer;
with tremulous hands he produced a copy of the Brit-
ish Mechanic, and ostentatiously buried himself in its
perusal.

"I wonder what can make him so cantankerous?"
reflected the nephew. "I don't like the look of it at
alL" And he dubiously scratched his nose.

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The train travelled forth into the world, bearing along
with it the customary freight of obliterated voyagers,
and along with these old Joseph, affecting immersion in
his paper, and John, slumbering over the columns of the
Pink Un, and Morris, revolving in his mind a dozen
grudges, and suspicions, and alarms. It passed Christ
Church by the sea, Heme with its pinewoods, Ringwood
on its mazy river. A little behind time, but not much
for the South Western, it drew up at the platform of a
station, in the midst of the New Forest, the real name
of which (in case the railway company "might have
the law of me ") I shall veil under the alias of Brown-
dean.

Many passengers put their heads to the window, and
among the rest an old gentleman on whom I willingly
dwell, for I am nearly done with him now, and (in the
whole course of the present narrative) I am not in the
least likely to meet another character so decent. His
name is immaterial, not so his habits. He had passed
his life wandering in a tweed suit on the continent of
Europe; and years of Galignants Messenger having at
length undermined his eyesight, he suddenly remem-
bered the rivers of Assyria and came to London to con-
sult an oculist From the oculist to the dentist, and
from both to the physician, the step appears inevitable;
presently he was in the hands of Sir Faraday, robed in
ventilating cloth and sent to Bournemouth; and to that
domineering baronet (who was his only friend upon his
native soil) he was now returning to report. The case
of these tweed-suited wanderers is unique. We have
all seen them entering the table d'hdte (at Spezzia, or
Gratz, or Venice) with a genteel melancholy and a

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faint appearance of having been to India and not suc-
ceeded ; in the offices of many hundred hotels, they are
known by name; and yet, if the whole of this wander-
ing cohort were to disappear to-morrow, their absence
would be wholly unremarked. How much more, if
only one — say this one in the ventilating cloth — should
vanish 1 He had paid his bills at Bournemouth; his
worldly effects were all in the van in two portmanteaus,
and these after the proper interval would be sold as un-
claimed baggage to a Jew ; Sir Faraday's butler would be
a half-crown poorer at the year's end, and the hotel-
keepers of Europe about the same date would be mourn-
ing a small but quite observable decline in profits. And
that would be literally all. Perhaps the old gentleman
thought something of the sort, for he looked melan-
choly enough as he pulled his bare, gray head back into
the carriage, and the train smoked under the bridge and
forth, with ever quickening speed, across the mingled
heaths and woods of the New Forest

Not many hundred yards beyond Browndean, how-
ever, a sudden jarring of brakes set everybody's teeth
on edge, and there was a brutal stoppage. Morris Fins-
bury was aware of a confused uproar of voices, and
sprang to the window. Women were screaming, men
were tumbling from the windows on the track, the
guard was crying to them to stay where they were; at
the same time the train began to gather way and move
very slowly backward toward Browndean; and the
next moment, all these various sounds were blotted out
in the apocalyptic whistle and the thundering onslaught
of the down express.

The actual collision Morris did not hear. Perhaps he

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fainted. He had a wild dream of having seen the car*
riage double up and fall to pieces like a pantomime trick ;
and sure enough, when he came to himself, he was
lying on the bare earth and under the open sky. His
head ached savagely; he carried his hand to his brow
and was not surprised to see it red with blood. The
air was filled with an intolerable, throbbing roar, which
he expected to find die away with the return of con-
sciousness ; and instead of that it seemed but to swell the
louder and to pierce the more cruelly through his ears.
It was a raging, bellowing thunder, like a boiler-rivet-
ing factory.

And now curiosity began to stir, and he sat up and
looked about him. The track at this point ran in a sharp
curve about a wooded hillock; all of the near side was
heaped with the wreckage of the Bournemouth train ;
that of the express was mostly hidden by the trees; and
just at the turn, under clouds of vomiting steam and
piled about with cairns of living coal, lay what remained
of the two engines, one upon the other. On the heathy
margin of the line were many people running to and fro,
and crying aloud as they ran, and many others lying
motionless like sleeping tramps.

Morris suddenly drew an inference. ' ' There has been
an accident 1 " thought he, and was elated at his perspi-
cacity. Almost at the same time his eye lighted on
John, who lay close by as white as paper. " Poor old
Johnl poor old cove!" he thought, the schoolboy ex-
pression popping forth from some forgotten treasury,
and he took his brother's hand in his with childish ten-
derness. It was perhaps the touch that recalled him ;
at least John opened his eyes, sat suddenly up, and after

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.rtlS TAKES ACTION

several ineffectual movements of his lips, " What's the
row ? " said he, in a phantom voice.

The din of that devil's smithy still thundered in their
ears. " Let tis-get away from that," Morris cried, and
pointed to the vomit of steam that still spouted from the
broken engines. And the pair helped each other up,
and stood and quaked and wavered and stared about
them at the scene of death.

Just then they were approached by a party of men
who had already organized themselves for the purposes
of rescue.

"Are you hurt?" cried one of these, a young fellow
with the sweat streaming down his pallid face, and who
by the way he was treated was evidently the doctor.

Morris shook his head, and the young man, nodding
grimly, handed him a bottle of some spirit.

"Take a drink of that," he said, "your friend looks
as if he needed it badly. We want every man we can
get," he added; "there's terrible work before us, and
nobody should shirk. If you can do no more you can
carry a stretcher."

The doctor was hardly gone before Morris, under the
spur of the dram, awoke to the full possession of his
wits.

" My God ! " he cried. " Uncle Joseph ! "

" Yes," said John, " where can he be ? He can't be
far off. I hope the old party isn't damaged."

"Come and help me to look," said Morris, with a
snap of savage determination strangely foreign to his
ordinary bearing; and then, for one moment, he broke
forth, "If he's dead!" he cried, and shook his fist at
heaven.

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To and fro the brothers hurried, staring in the faces
of the wounded, or turning the dead upon their backs.
They must have thus examined forty people, and still
there was no word of Uncle Joseph. But now the
course of their search brought them near the centre of
the collision, where the boilers were still blowing off
steam with a deafening clamour. It was a part of the
field not yet gleaned by the rescuing party. The ground,
especially on the margin of the wood, was full of in-
equalities — here a pit, there a hillock surmounted with
a bush of furze. It was a place where many bodies
might lie concealed, and they beat it like pointers after
game. Suddenly Morris, who was leading, paused and
reached forth his index with a tragic gesture. John
followed the direction of his brother's hand.

In the bottom of a sandy hole lay something that had
once been human. The face had suffered severely, and
it was unrecognisable; but that was not required. The
snowy hair, the coat of marten, the ventilating cloth,
the hygienic flannel — everything down to the health
boots from Messrs. Dall & Crumbie's, identified the body
as that of Uncle Joseph. Only the forage cap must have
been lost in the convulsion, for the dead man was bare-
headed.

"The poor old beggar 1" said John, with a touch of
natural feeling; "I would give ten pounds we hadn't
chivied him in the train ! "

But there was no sentiment in the face of Morris as he
gazed upon the dead. Gnawing his nails, with intro :
verted eyes, his brow marked with the stamp of tragic
indignation and tragic intellectual effort, he stood there
silent Here was a last injustice; he had been robbed

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while he was an orphan at school, he had been lashed to a
decadent leather business, he had been saddled with
Miss Hazeltine, his cousin had been defrauding him of
the Tontine, and he had borne all this, we might almost
say, with dignity, and now they had gone and killed his
uncle!

" Here! " he said, suddenly, " take his heels, we must
get him into the woods. I'm not going to have any-
body find this."

"O, fudge !" said John, "where's the use?"

" Do what I tell you," spirted Morris, as he took the
corpse by the shoulders. " Am I to carry him my-
self?"

They were close upon the borders of the wood ; in
ten or twelve paces they were under cover; and a little
farther back, in a sandy clearing of the trees, they laid
their burthen down, and stood and looked at it with
loathing.

" What do you mean to do ?" whispered John.

"Bury him, to be sure!" responded Morris, and he
opened his pocket knife and began feverishly to dig.

" You'll never make a hand of it with that," objected
the other.

4 * If you won't help me, you cowardly shirk, " screamed
Morris, " you can go to the devil! "

"It's the childishest folly," said John, "but no man
shall call me a coward," and he began to help his brother
grudgingly.

The soil was sandy and light, but matted with the
roots bf the surrounding firs. Gorse tore their hands;
and as they baled the sand from the grave, it was often
discoloured with their blood. An hour passed of un-

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remitting energy upon the part of Morris, of lukewarm
help on that of John; and still the trench was barely
nine inches in depth. Into this the body was rudely
flung; sand was piled upon it, and then more sand
must be dug, and gorse had to be cut to pile on that;
and still from one end of the sordid mound a pair of feet
projected and caught the light upon their patent-leather
toes. But by this time the nerves of both were shaken ;
even Morris had enough of his grisly task; and they
skulked off like animals into the thickest of the neigh-
bouring covert.

"It's the best that we can do," said Morris, sitting
down.

"And now," said John, "perhaps you'll have the
politeness to tell me what it's all about"

"Upon my word," cried Morris, "if you do not
understand for yourself, I almost despair of telling you."

"Oh, of course it's some rot about the tontine," re-
turned the other. " But it's the merest nonsense. We've
lost it, and there's an end."

" I tell you," said Morris, " Uncle Masterman is dead.
I know it, there's a voice here that tells me so."

"Well, and so is Uncle Joseph," said John.

" He's not dead unless I choose," returned Morris.

"And come to that," cried John, "if you're right,
and Uncle Masterman's been dead ever so long, all we
have to do is to tell the truth and expose Michael."

1 ' You seem to think Michael is a fool, " sneered Morris.
" Can't you understand he's been preparing this fraud
for years ? He has the whole thing ready : the nurse,
the doctor, the undertaker, all bought, the certificate all
ready but the datel Let him get wind of this business

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and you mark my words, Uncle Masterman will die in
two days and be buried in a week. But see here,
Johnny; what Michael can do, I can do. If he plays a
game of bluff, so can I. If his father is to live forever,
by God, so shall my uncle! "

" It's illegal, ain't it?" said John.

"A man must have some moral courage/ 9 replied
Morris with dignity.

" And then suppose you're wrong ? suppose Uncle
Masterman's alive and kicking ? "

" Well, even then," responded the plotter, " we are no
worse than we were before ; in fact, we're better. Uncle
Masterman must die some day ; as long as Uncle Joseph
was alive, he might have died any day; but we're out
of all that trouble now: there's no sort of limit to the
game that I propose — it can be kept up till Kingdom
Come."

" If I could only see how you meant to set about it! "
sighed John. " But you know, Morris, you always
were such a bungler."

11 I'd like to know what 1 ever bungled," cried Mor-
ris; "I have the best collection of signet rings in
London."

4 'Well, you know, there's the leather business," sug-
gested the other. "That's considered rather a hash."

It was a mark of singular self-control in Morris that he
suffered this to pass unchallenged and even unresented.

"About the business in hand," said he, "once we
can get him up to Bloomsbury, there's no sort of trouble.
We bury him in the cellar, which seems made for it;
and then all I have to do is to start out and find a venal
doctor."

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"Why can't we leave him where he is ? " asked John.

" Because we know nothing about the country," re-
torted Morris. "This wood may be a regular lovers'
walk. Turn your mind to the real difficulty. How are
we to get him up to Bloomsbury ?"

Various schemes were mooted and rejected. The rail-
way station at Browndean was of course out of the ques-
tion ; for it would now be a centre of curiosity and gossip,
and (of all things) they would be least able to despatch
a dead body without remark. John feebly proposed
getting an ale-cask and sending it as beer, but the objec-
tions to this course were so overwhelming that Morris
scorned to answer. The purchase of a packing-case
seemed equally hopeless; for why should two gentle-
men without baggage of any kind require a packing-
case? They would be more likely to require clean
linen.

41 We are working on wrong lines," cried Morris at
«ast "The thing must be gone about more carefully.
Suppose, now," he added, excitedly, speaking by fits
and starts as if he were thinking aloud, "suppose we
rent a cottage by the month : a householder can buy a
packing-case without remark. Then suppose we clear
the people out to-day, get the packing-case to-night,
and to-morrow 1 hire a carriage — or a cart that we could
drive ourselves — and take the box, or whatever we get,
to Ringwood or Lyndhurst or somewhere, we could
label it ' specimens,' don't you see ? — Johnny, I believe
I've hit the nail at last."

" Well, it sounds more feasible," admitted John.

" Of course, we must take assumed names, " continued
Morris. " It would never do to keep our own. What

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do you say to ' Masterman ' itself? It sounds quiet and
dignified."

" I will not take the name of Masterman," returned
his brother; " you may, if you like. I shall call myself
Vance — the Great Vance; positively the last six nights.
There's some go in a name like that."

' * Vance ! " cried Morris. - ' Do you think we are play-
ing a pantomime for our amusement ? There was never
anybody named Vance who wasn't a music-hall singer."

"That's the beauty of it," returned John, "it gives
you some standing at once. You may call yourself
Fortescue till all's blue, and nobody cares; but to be
Vance gives a man a natural nobility."

"But there's lots of other theatrical names," cried
Morris. "Ley bourne, Irving, Brough, Toole "

"Devil a one will I take," returned his brother, "I
am going to have my little lark out of this as well as
you."

"Very well," said Morris, who perceived that John
was determined to carry his point, "I shall be Robert
Vance."

"And I shall be George Vance," cried John, "the
only original George Vance! Rally round the only
original I"

Repairing as well as they were able the disorder of
their clothes, Finsbury brothers returned to Browndean
by a circuitous route in quest of luncheon and a suitable
cottage. It is not always easy to drop at a moment's
notice on a furnished residence in a retired locality; but
fortune presently introduced our adventurers to a deaf
carpenter, a man rich in cottages of the required de-
scription, and unaffectedly eager to supply their wants.

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The second place they visited, standing, as it did, about
a mile and a half from any neighbours, caused them to
exchange a glance of hope. On a nearer view the place
was not without depressing features. It stood in a
marshy-looking hollow of a heath; tall trees obscured
its windows; the thatch visibly rotted on the rafters;
and the walls were stained with splashes of unwhole-
some green. The rooms were small, the ceilings low,
the furniture merely nominal; a strange chill and a
haunting smell of damp pervaded the kitchen; and the
bedroom boasted only of one bed.

Morris, with a view to cheapening the place, remarked
on this defect.

"Well," returned the man, " if you can't sleep two
abed, you'd better take a villa residence."

" And then," pursued Morris, " there's no water; how
do you get your water ? "

" We fill that from the spring," replied the carpenter,
pointing to a big barrel that stood beside the door.
"The spring ain't so very far off, after all, and it's easy
brought in buckets. There's a bucket there."

Morris nudged his brother as they examined the wa-
ter-butt; it was new, and very solidly constructed for its
office; if anything had been wanting to decide them, this
eminently practicable barrel would have turned the scale.
A bargain was promptly struck, the month's rent was
paid upon the nail, and about an hour later Finsbury
brothers might have been observed returning to the
blighted cottage, having along with them the key, which
was the symbol of their tenancy, a spirit-lamp, with
which they fondly told themselves they would be able
to cook, a pork-pie of suitable dimensions, and a quart

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of the worst whiskey in Hampshire. Nor was this all
they had effected ; already (under the plea that they were
landscape-painters) they had hired for dawn on the
morrow a light but solid two-wheeled cart; so that,
when they entered in their new character, they were
able to tell themselves that the back of the business was
already broken.

John proceeded to get tea; while Morris, foraging
about the house, was presently delighted by discovering
the lid of the water-butt upon the kitchen shelf. Here,
then, was the packing-case complete; in the absence of
straw, the blankets (which he himself, at least, had not
the smallest intention of using for their present purpose)
would exactly take the place of packing; and Morris, as
the difficulties began to vanish from his path, rose almost
to the brink of exultation. There was, however, one
difficulty not yet faced, one upon which his whole
scheme depended. Would John consent to remain alone
in the cottage ? He had not yet dared to put the question.

It was with high good humour that the pair sat down
to the deal table, and proceeded to fall to on the pork-
pie. Morris retailed the discovery of the lid, and the
Great Vance was pleased to applaud by beating on the
table with his fork in true music-hall style.

"That's the dodge," he cried. "1 always said a
water-butt was what you wanted for this business."

"Of course," said Morris, thinking this a favourable
opportunity to prepare his brother, " of course you must
stay on in this place till I give the word ; Til give out
that uncle is resting in the New Forest. It would not
do for both of us to appear in London ; we could never
conceal the absence of the old man."

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John's jaw dropped.

" Oh, come! " he cried. " You can stay in this hole
yourself. I won't."

The colour came into Morris's cheeks. He saw that
he must win his brother at any cost

" You must please remember, Johnny," he said, " the
amount of the tontine. If I succeed, we shall have each
fifty thousand to place to our bank account; ay, and
nearer sixty."

"But if you fail," returned John, "what then?
What'U be the colour of our bank account in that
case ? "

"I will pay all expenses," said Morris, with an in-
ward struggle; "you shall lose nothing."

"Well," said John, with a laugh, "if the ex-s are
yours, and half profits mine, I don't mind remaining
here for a couple of days."

"A couple of daysl " cried Morris, who was begin-
ning to get angry and controlled himself with difficulty.
"Why, you would do more to win five pounds on a
horse race 1"

" Perhaps I would," returned the Great Vance; "it's
the artistic temperament."

" This is monstrous ! " burst out Morris. " I take all
risks; I pay all expenses; 1 divide profits; and you
won't take the slightest pains to help me. It's not de-
cent; it's not honest; it's not even kind."

"But suppose," objected John, who was considera-
bly impressed by his brother's vehemence, "suppose
that Uncle Masterman is alive after all, and lives ten
years longer; must I rot here all that time ? "

"Of course not," responded Morris, in a more con-

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ciliatory tone. ' ' I only ask a month at the outside ; and
if Uncle Masterman is not dead by that time you can go
abroad."

"Go abroad?" repeated John, eagerly. "Why
shouldn't 1 go at once ? Tell 'em that Joseph and I are
seeing life in Paris."

"Nonsense," said Morris.

"Well, but look here," said John; "it's this house,
it's such a pig-sty, it's so dreary and damp. You said
yourself that it was damp."

"Only to the carpenter," Morris distinguished, "and
that was to reduce the rent But really you know, now
we're in it, I've seen worse."

"And what am 1 to do?" complained the victim.
" How can I entertain a friend ? "

"My dear Johnny, if you don't think the tontine
worth a little trouble, say so; and I'll give the busi-
ness up."

"You're dead certain of the figures, I suppose?"
asked John. ■ ' Well " — with a deep sigh — ' ' send me
the Pink Un and all the comic papers regularly. I'll
face the music."

As afternoon drew on, the cottage breathed more
thrillingly of its native marsh; a creeping chill inhab-
ited its chambers; the fire smoked; and a shower of
rain, coming up from the Channel on a slant of wind,
tingled on the window-panes. At intervals, when the
gloom deepened towards despair, Morris would produce
the whiskey bottle, and at first John welcomed the di-
version — not for long. It has been said this spirit was
the worst in Hampshire; only those acquainted with
the county can appreciate the force of that superlative;

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and at length even the Great Vance (who was no con-
noisseur) waved the decoction from his lips. The ap-
proach of dusk, feebly combated with a single tallow
candle, added a touch of tragedy; and John suddenly
stopped whistling through his fingers — an art to the
practice of which he had been reduced — and bitterly
lamented his concessions.

"I can't stay here a month," he cried. "No one
could. The thing's nonsense, Morris. The parties that
lived in the Bastille would rise against a place like this."

With an admirable affectation of indifference, Morris
proposed a game of pitch-and-toss. To what will not
the diplomatist condescend! It was John's favourite
game; indeed, his only game — he had found all the
rest too intellectual — and he played it with equal skill
and good fortune. To Morris himself, on the other
hand, the whole business was detestable; he was a bad
pitcher, he had no luck in tossing, and he was one who
suffered torments when he lost. But John was in a
dangerous humour, and his brother was prepared for
any sacrifice.

By seven o'clock, Morris, with incredible agony, had
lost a couple of half-crowns. Even with the tontine be-
fore his eyes, this was as much as he could bear; and
remarking that he would take his revenge some other
time, he proposed a bit of supper and a grog.

Before they had made an end of this refreshment, it
was time to be at work. A bucket of water for pres-
ent necessities was withdrawn from the water-butt,
which was then emptied and rolled before the kitchen
fire to dry; and the two brothers set forth on their ad*
venture under a starless heaven.

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CHAPTER III

THE LECTURER AT LARGE

Whether mankind is really partial to happiness is an
open question. Not a month passes by, but some cher-
ished son runs off into the merchant service, or some
valued husband decamps to Texas with a lady help;
clergymen have fled from their parishioners; and even
judges have been known to retire. To an open mind,
it will appear (upon the whole) less strange that Joseph
Finsbury should have been led to entertain ideas of es-
cape. His lot (I think we may say) was not a happy
one. My friend, Mr. Morris, with whom I travel up
twice or thrice a week from Snaresbrook Park, is cer-
tainly a gentleman whom I esteem ; but he was scarce
a model nephew. As for John, he is of course an ex-
cellent fellow; but if he was the only link that bound
one to a home, 1 think the most of us would vote for
foreign travel. In the case of Joseph, John (if he were
a link at all) was not the only one; endearing bonds
had long enchained the old gentleman to Bloomsbury;
and by these expressions I do not in the least refer
to Julia Hazeltine (of whom, however, he was fond
enough), but to that collection of manuscript note-
books in which his life lay buried. That he should
ever have made up his mind to separate himself from

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these collections, and go forth upon the world with no
other resources than his memory supplied, is a circum-
stance highly pathetic in itself, and but little creditable
to the wisdom of his nephews.

The design, or at least the temptation, was already
some months old; and when a bill for eight hundred
pounds, payable to himself, was suddenly placed in
Joseph's hand, it brought matters to an issue. He re-
tained that bill, which, to one of his frugality, meant
wealth; and he promised himself to disappear among
the crowds at Waterloo, or (if that should prove im-
possible) to slink out of the house in the course of the
evening and melt like a dream into the millions of
London. By a peculiar interposition of providence
and railway mismanagement, he had not so long to
wait

He was one of the first to come to himself and scram-
ble to his feet, after the Browndean catastrophe, and he
had no sooner remarked his prostrate nephews, than
he understood his opportunity and fled. A man of up-
ward of seventy, who has just met with a railway acci-
dent, and who is cumbered besides with the full uni-
form of Sir Faraday Bond, is not very likely to flee far,
but the wood was close at hand and offered the fugitive
at least a temporary covert. Hither, then, the old gen-
tleman skipped with extraordinary expedition, and being
somewhat winded and a good deal shaken, here he lay
down in a convenient grove and was presently over-
whelmed by slumber. The way of fate is often highly
entertaining to the looker-on, and it is certainly a pleas-
ant circumstance, that while Morris and John were
delving in the sand to conceal the body of a total

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stranger, their uncle lay in dreamless sleep a few hun-
dred yards deeper in the wood.

He was awakened by the jolly note of a bugle from
the neighbouring highroad, where a char-&-banc was
bowling by with some belated tourists. The sound
cheered his old heart, it directed his steps into the bar-
gain, and soon he was on the highway, looking east
and west from under his vizor, and doubtfully revolving
what he ought to do. A deliberate sound of wheels
arose in the distance, and then a cart was seen ap-
proaching, well filled with parcels, driven by a good-
natured looking man on a double bench, and displaying
on a board the legend, "I. Chandler, carrier." In the
infamously prosaic mind of Mr. Finsbury, certain streaks
of poetry survived and were still efficient; they had
carried him to Asia Minor as a giddy youth of forty,
and now, in the first hours of his recovered freedom,
they suggested to him the idea of continuing his flight
in Mr. Chandler's cart. It would be cheap; properly
broached, it might even cost nothing, and after years
of mittens and hygienic flannel, his heart leaped out to
meet the notion of exposure.

Mr. Chandler was perhaps a little puzzled to find so
old a gentleman, so strangely clothed, and begging for
a lift on so retired a roadside. But he was a good-
natured man, glad to do a service, and so he took the
stranger up; and he had his own idea of civility, and so
he asked no questions. Silence, in fact, was quite good
enough for Mr. Chandler; but the cart had scarcely be-
gun to move forward ere he found himself involved in a
one-sided conversation.

"I can see/' began Mr. Finsbury, "by the mixture

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of parcels and boxes that are contained in your cart,
each marked with its individual label, and by the good
Flemish mare you drive, that you occupy the post of
carrier in that great English system of transport, which,
with all its defects, is the pride of our country."

"Yes, sir," returned Mr. Chandler vaguely, for he
hardly knew what to reply, "them parcels' posts has
done us carriers a world of harm."

"I am not a prejudiced man," continued Joseph Fins-
bury. "As a young man I travelled much. Nothing
was too small or too obscure for me to acquire. At sea
1 studied seamanship, learned the complicated knots
employed by mariners, and acquired the technical terms.
At Naples, I would learn the art of making macaroni;
at Nice, the principles of making candied fruit. I never
went to the opera without first buying the book of the
piece, and making myself acquainted with the princi-
pal airs by picking them out on the piano with one
finger."

"You must have seen a deal, sir," remarked the car-
rier, touching up his horse; "I wish 1 could have had
your advantages."

"Do you know how often the word whip occurs in
the Old Testament?" continued the old gentleman.
"One hundred and (if I remember exactly) forty-seven
times."

"Do it indeed, sir?" said Mr. Chandler. "I never
should have thought it"

"The Bible contains three million five hundred and
one thousand two hundred and forty-nine letters. Of
verses I believe there are upward of eighteen thousand.
There have been many editions of the Bible; Wiclif was

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the first to introduce it into England, about the year
1500. The ' Paragraph Bible/ as it is called, is a well-
known edition, and is so called because it is divided into
paragraphs. The 'Breeches Bible 1 is another well-
known instance, and gets its name either because it was
printed by one Breeches, or because the place of publi-
cation bore that name."

The carrier remarked drily that he thought that was
only natural, and turned his attention to the rtiore con-
genial task of passing a cart of hay; it was a matter of
some difficulty, for the road was narrow, and there was
a ditch on either hand.

"I perceive," began Mr. Finsbury, when they had
successfully passed the cart, "that you hold your reins
with one hand; you should employ two."

" Well, I like that! " cried the carrier, contemptuously.
"Why?"

"You do not understand," cpntinued Mr. Finsbury.
" What I tell you is a scientific fact, and reposes on the
theory of the lever, a branch of mechanics. There are
some very interesting little shilling-books upon the field
of study, which I should think a man in your station
would take a pleasure to read. But I am afraid you
have not cultivated the art of observation ; at least we
have now driven together for some time, and 1 cannot
remember that you have contributed a single fact This
is a very false principle, my good man. For instance, 1
do not know if you observed that (as you passed the
hay-cart man) you took your left ? "

"Of course I did," cried the carrier, who was now
getting belligerent; "he'd have the law on me if I
hadn't"

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"In France, now/' resumed the old man, "and also,
I believe, in the United States of America, you would
have taken the right"

" I would not," cried Mr. Chandler, indignantly. " I
would have taken the left."

11 1 observe," again continued Mr. Finsbury, scorning
to reply, "that you mend the dilapidated parts of your
harness with string. I have always protested against
this carelessness and slovenliness of the English poor.
In an essay that I once read before an appreciative au-
dience "

" It ain't string," said the carrier, sullenly, " it's pack-
thread."

"I have always protested," resumed the old man,
"that in their private and domestic life, as well as in
their labouring career, the lower classes of this country
are improvident, thriftless, and extravagant A stitch
in time "

"Who the devil are the lower classes?" cried the
carrier. "You are the lower classes yourself 1 If I
thought you were a blooming aristocrat I shouldn't
have given you a lift."

The words were uttered with undisguised ill-feeling;
it was plain the pair were not congenial, and further
conversation, even to one of Mr. Finsbury's pathetic
loquacity, was out of the question. With an angry
gesture he pulled down the brim of the forage-cap over
his eyes, and producing a note-book and a blue pencil
from one of his innermost pockets, soon became ab-
sorbed in calculations.

On his part the carrier fell to whistling with fresh
zest; and if (now and again) he glanced at the com-

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THB LECTURER AT LARGE

panion of his drive, it was with mingled feelings of
triumph and alarm — triumph because he had succeeded
in arresting that prodigy of speech, and alarm lest (by
any accident) it should begin again. Even the shower,
which presently overtook and passed them, was endured
by both in silence; and it was still in silence that they
drove at length into Southampton.

Dusk had fallen ; the shop windows glimmered forth
into the streets of the old seaport; in private houses
lights were kindled for the evening meal; and Mr. Fins-
bury began to think complacently of his night's lodging.
He put his papers by, cleared his throat, and looked
doubtfully at Mr. Chandler.

"Will you be civil enough," said he, "to recommend
me to an inn?"

Mr. Chandler pondered for a moment

"Well," he said at last, "I wonder how about the
'Tregonwell Arms/"

"The 'Tregonwell Arms' will do very well," re-
turned the old man, "if it's clean and cheap, and the
people civil."

"I wasn't thinking so much of you," returned Mr.
Chandler, thoughtfully. " I was thinking of my friend
Watts as keeps the 'ouse; he's a friend of mine, you
see, and he helped me through my trouble last year.
And I was thinking, would it be fair-like on Watts to
saddle him with an old party like you, who might be
the death of him with general information. Would it
be fair to the 'ouse ? " inquired Mr. Chandler, with an air
of candid appeal.

"Mark me," cried the old gentleman, with spirit
" It was kind in you to bring me here for nothing, but

4«

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it gives you no right to address me in such terms.
Here's a shilling for your trouble; and if you do not
choose to set me down at the ' Tregonwell Arms,' 1 can
find it for myself."

Chandler was surprised and a little startled; mutter-
ing something apologetic, he returned the shilling, drove
in silence through several intricate lanes and small
streets, drew up at length before the bright windows
of an inn, and called loudly for "Mr. Watts."

"Is that you, Jem?" cried a hearty voice from the
stableyard. "Come in and warm yourself."

"I only stopped here," Mr. Chandler explained, "to
let down an old gent what wants food and lodging.
Mind, I warn you agin him; he's worse nor a temper-
ance lecturer."

Mr. Finsbury dismounted with difficulty, for he was
cramped with his long drive, and the shaking he had
received in the accident. The friendly Mr. Watts, in
spite of the carter's scarcely agreeable introduction,
treated the old gentleman with the utmost courtesy, and
led him into the back parlour, where there was a big
fire burning in the grate. Presently a table was spread
in the same room, and he was invited to seat himself
before a stewed fowl — somewhat the worse for having
seen service before — and a big pewter mug of ale from
the tap.

He rose from supper a giant refreshed; and changing
his seat to one nearer the fire, began to examine the
other guests with an eye to the delights of oratory.
There were near a dozen present, all men, and (as Jo-
seph exulted to perceive) all working-men. Often
already had he seen cause to bless that appetite for dis-

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connected fact and rotatory argument, which is so marked
a character of the mechanic. But even an audience of
working-men has to be courted, and there was no man
more deeply versed in the necessary arts than Joseph
Finsbury. He placed his glasses on his nose, drew from
his pocket a bundle of papers, and spread them before
him on a table. He crumpled them, he smoothed them
out; now he skimmed them over, apparently well
pleased with their contents ; now, with tapping pencil
and contracted brows, he seemed maturely to consider
some particular statement. A stealthy glance about the
room assured him of the success of his manoeuvres; all
eyes were turned on the performer, mouths were open,
pipes hung suspended; the birds were charmed. At
the same moment the entrance of Mr. Watts afforded
him an opportunity.

"1 observe," said he, addressing the landlord, but
taking at the same time the whole room into his confi-
dence with an encouraging look, "I observe that some
of these gentlemen are looking with curiosity in my
direction ; and certainly it is unusual to see anyone im-
mersed in literary and scientific labours in the publie
apartment of an inn. 1 have here some calculations I
made this morning upon the cost of living in this and
other countries — a subject, I need scarcely say, highly
interesting to the working classes. I have calculated a
scale of living for incomes of eighty, one hundred and
sixty, two hundred, and two hundred and forty pounds
a year. 1 must confess that the income of eighty pounds
has somewhat baffled me, and the others are not so
exact as 1 could wish ; for the price of washing varies
largely in foreign countries, and the different cokes,

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coals, and firewoods fluctuate surprisingly. I will read
my researches, and I hope you won't scruple to point
out to me any little errors that I may have committed
either from oversight or ignorance. I will begin, gen-
tlemen, with the income of eighty pounds a year."

Whereupon the old gentleman, with less compassion
than he would have had for brute beasts, delivered him-
self of all his tedious calculations. As he occasionally
gave ten versions of a single income, placing the im-
aginary person in London, Paris, Bagdad, Spitzbergen,
Bassorah, Heligoland, the Scilly Islands, Brighton, Cin-
cinnati, and Nijni-Novgorod, with an appropriate out-
fit for each locality, it is no wonder that his hearers look
back on that evening as the most tiresome they ever
spent.

Long before Mr. Finsbury had reached Nijni-Novgo-
rod with the income of one hundred and sixty pounds,
the company had dwindled and faded away to a few
old topers and the bored but affable Watts. There was
a constant stream of customers from the outer world,
but so soon as they were served they drank their liquor
quickly, and departed with the utmost celerity for the
next public-house.

By the time the young man with two hundred a year
was vegetating in the Scilly Islands, Mr. Watts was left
alone with the economist; and that imaginary person
had scarce commenced life at Brighton before the last of
his pursuers desisted from the chase.

Mr. Finsbury slept soundly after the manifold fatigues
of the day. He rose late, and after a good breakfast,
ordered the bill. Then it was that he made a discovery
which has been made by many others, both before and

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THE LECTURER AT LARGE

since: that it is one thing to order your bill, and another
to discharge it The items were moderate and (what
does not always follow) the total small; but after the
most sedulous review of all his pockets, one and nine-
pence halfpenny appeared to be the total of the old gen-
tleman's available assets. He asked to see Mr. Watts.

" Here is a bill on London for eight hundred pounds/'
said Mr. Finsbury, as that worthy appeared. "I am
afraid unless you choose to discount it yourself, it may
detain me a day or two till I can get it cashed."

Mr. Watts looked at the bill, turned it over, and dogs-
eared it with his fingers. "It will keep you a day or
two ? " he said, repeating the old man's words. " You
have no other money with you ? "

"Some trifling change," responded Joseph. "Noth-
ing to speak of."

"Then you can send it me; I should be pleased to
trust you."

"To tell the truth," answered the old gentleman, "I
am more than half inclined to stay; I am in need of
funds."

"If a loan of ten shillings would help you, it is at
your service," responded Watts, with eagerness.

"No, I think I would rather stay," said the old man,
"and get my bill discounted."

"You shall not stay in my house," cried Mr. Watts.
"This is the last time you shall have a bed at the 'Tre-
gonwell Arms.'"

" I insist upon remaining," replied Mr. Finsbury, with
spirit; " I remain by Act of Parliament; turn me out if
you dare."

"Then pay your bill," said Mr. Watts.

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41 Take that/' cried the old man, tossing him the ne-
gotiable bill.

"It is not legal tender," replied Mr. Watts. "You
must leave my house at once."

" You cannot appreciate the contempt 1 feel for you,
Mr. Watts," said the old gentleman, resigning himself
to circumstances. " But you shall feel it in one way; 1
refuse to pay my bill."

"I don't care for your bill," responded Mr. Watts.
"What I want is your absence."

"That you shall havel " said the old gentleman, and
taking up his forage-cap as he spoke, he crammed it on
his head. " Perhaps you are too insolent," he added,
" to inform me of the time of the next London train ?"

" It leaves in three-quarters of an hour," returned the
inn-keeper, with alacrity. "You can easily catch it."

Joseph's position was one of considerable weakness.
On the one hand, it would have been well to avoid the
direct line of railway, since it was there he might expect
his nephews to lie in wait for his recapture; on the
other, it was highly desirable, it was even strictly need-
ful, to get the bill discounted ere it should be stopped.
To London, therefore, he decided to proceed on the first
train ; and there remained but one point to be considered,
how to pay his fare.

Joseph's nails were never clean, he ate almost entirely
with his knife. I doubt if you could say he had the
manners of a gentleman; but he had better than that, a
touch of genuine dignity. Was it from his stay in Asia
Minor? Was it from a strain in the Finsbury blood
sometimes alluded to by customers ? At least, when he
presented himself before the station-master, his salaam

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THE LECTURER AT LARGE

was truly oriental, palm-trees appeared to crowd about
the little office, and the simoom or the bulbul — but 1
leave this image to persons better acquainted with the
East. His appearance, besides, was highly in his favour;
the uniform of Sir Faraday, however inconvenient and
conspicuous, was, at least, a costume in which no
swindler could have hoped to prosper; and the exhibi-
tion of a valuable watch and a bill for eight hundred
pounds completed what deportment had begun. Qyarter
of an hour later, when the train came up, Mr. Finsbury
was introduced to the guard and installed in a first-class
compartment, the station-master smilingly assuming all
responsibility.

As the old gentleman sat waiting the moment of de-
parture, he was the witness of an incident strangely
connected with the fortunes of his house. A packing-
case of cyclopean bulk was borne along the platform by
some dozen of tottering porters, and ultimately, to the
delight of a considerable crowd, hoisted on board the
van. It is often the cheering task of the historian to-
direct attention to the designs and (if it may be rever-
ently said) the artifices of Providence. In the luggage
van, as Joseph was borne out of the station of South-
ampton East upon his way to London, the egg of this,
romance lay (so to speak) unhatched. The huge pack-
ing-case was directed " to lie at Waterloo till called for,'
and addressed to one " William Dent Pitman ; " and the
very next article, a goodly barrel jammed into the corner
of the van, bore the superscription "M. Finsbury, 16
John Street, Bloomsbury. Carriage paid."

In this juxtaposition, the train of powder was prepared :
and there was now wanting only an idle hand to fire it off.

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CHAPTER IV

THE MAGISTRATE IN THE LUGGAGE VAN

The city of Winchester is famed for a cathedral, a
bishop — but he was unfortunately killed some years
ago while riding — a public school, a considerable as-
sortment of the military, and the deliberate passage of
the trains on the London, and South Western line*
These and many similar associations would have doubt-
less crowded on the mind of Joseph Finsbury; but his
spirit had at that time flitted from the railway compart-
ment to a heaven of populous lecture-halls and endless
oratory. His body, in the meanwhile, lay doubled on
the cushions, the forage-cap rakishly tilted back after the
fashion of those that lie in wait for nursery-maids, the
poor old face quiescent, one arm clutching to his heart
Lloyd's IVeekly Newspaper.

To him, thus unconscious, enter and exeunt again a
pair of voyagers. These two had saved the train and
no more. A tandem urged to its last speed, an act of
something closely bordering on brigandage at the ticket
office, and a spasm of running, had brought them on
the platform just as the engine uttered its departing
snort There was but one carriage easily within their
reach; and they had sprung into it, and the leader and
elder already had his feet upon the floor, when he ob-
served Mr. Finsbury.

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"Good God!" he cried, "Uncle Joseph! This'll
never do."

And he backed out, almost upsetting his companion,
and once more closed the door upon the sleeping patri-
arch.

The next moment the pair had jumped into the bag-
gage van.

1 ' What's the row about your Uncle Joseph ? " inquired
the younger traveller, mopping his brow. "Does he
object to smoking ? "

"I don't know that there's anything the row with
him," returned the other. " He's by no means the first
comer, my Uncle Joseph, I can tell you! Very respect-
able old gentleman; interested in leather; been to Asia
Minor; no family, no assets — and a tongue, my dear
Wickham, sharper than a serpent's tooth."

"Cantankerous old party, eh ?" suggested Wickham.

"Not in the least," cried the other; "only a man
with a solid talent for being a bore; rather cheery, I
dare say, on a desert island, but on a railway journey,
insupportable. You should hear him on Tonti, tHe ass
that started tontines. He's incredible on Tonti."

"By Jove!" cried Wickham, "then you're one of
these Finsbury tontine fellows. I hadn't a guess of
that"

"Ah!" said. the other, "do you know, that old boy
in the carriage is worth a hundred thousand pounds to
me ? There he was asleep, and nobody there but you!
But I spared him, because I'm a conservative in politics."

Mr. Wickham, pleased to be in a luggage van, was
flitting to and fro like a gentlemanly butterfly.

"By Jingo!" he cried, "here's something for you!
49

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'M. Finsbury, 16 John Street, Bloomsbury, London. 1
M. stands for Michael, you sly dog; you keep two es-
tablishments, do you ? "

"Oh, that's Morris," responded Michael from the
other end of the van, where he had found a comfortable
seat upon some sacks. "He's a little cousin of mine.
I like him myself, because he's afraid of me. He's one
of the ornaments of Bloomsbury, and has a collection
of some kind — birds' eggs or something — that's sup-
posed to be curious. I bet it's nothing to my clients! "

"What a lark it would be to play billy with the
labels! " chuckled Mr. Wickham. " By George, here's
a tack-hammer! We might send all these things skip-
ping about the premises like what's-his-name! "

At this moment the guard, surprised by the sound
of voices, opened the door of his little cabin.

"You had best step in here, gentlemen," said he,
when he had heard their story.

"Won't you come, Wickham ?" asked Michael.

"Catch me — I want to travel in a van," replied the
south.

And so the door of communication was closed; and
for the rest of the run Mr. Wickham was left alone over
his diversions on the one side, and on the other Michael
and the guard were closeted together in familiar talk.

" I can get you a compartment here, sir," observed the
official, as the train began to slacken speed before Bishop-
stoke station. " You had best get out at my door, and
I can bring your friend."

Mr. Wickham, whom we left (as the reader has
shrewdly suspected) beginning to "play billy" with
the labels in the van, was a young gentleman of much

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THE MAGISTRATE IN THE LUGGAGE VAN

wealth, a pleasing but sandy exterior, and a highly va-
cant mind. Not many months before, he had contrived
to get himself black-mailed by the family of a Walla-
chian Hospodar, resident for political reasons in the gay
city of Paris. A common friend (to whom he had con-
fided his distress) recommended him to Michael; and
the lawyer was no sooner in possession of the facts,
than he instantly assumed the offensive, fell on the flank
of the Wallachian forces, and in the inside of three days,
had the satisfaction to behold them routed and fleeing
for the Danube. It is no business of ours to follow them
on this retreat, over which the police were so obliging
as to preside paternally. Thus relieved from what he
loved to refer to as the Bulgarian Atrocity, Mr. Wick-
ham returned to London with the most unbounded and
embarrassing gratitude and admiration for his saviour.
These sentiments were not repaid either in kind or de-
gree; indeed, Michael was a trifle ashamed of his new
client's friendship; it had taken many invitations to get
him to Winchester and Wickham Manor; but he had
gone at last, and was now returning. It has been re-
marked by some judicious thinker (possibly J. F. Smith)
that Providence despises to employ no instrument, how-
ever humble; and it is now plain to the dullest that
both Mr. Wickham and the Wallachian Hospodar were
liquid lead and wedges in the hand of destiny.

Smitten with the desire to shine in Michael's eyes and
show himself a person of original humour and resources,
the young gentleman (who was a magistrate, more by
token, in his native county) was no sooner alone in the
van, than he fell upon the labels with all the zeal of a
reformer; and when he rejoined the lawyer at Bishop-

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THE WRONG BOX

stoke, his face was flushed with his exertions, and his
cigar, which he had suffered to go out, was almost bit-
ten in two.

"By George, but this has been a lark!" he cried.
"I've sent the wrong thing to everybody in England.
These cousins of yours have a packing-case as big as a
house. I've muddled the whole business up to that ex-
tent, Finsbury, that if it were to get out, it's my belief
we should be lynched."

It was useless to be serious with Mr. Wickham.
"Take care," said Michael. "I am getting tired of
your perpetual scrapes; my reputation is beginning to
suffer."

"Your reputation will be all gone before you finish
with me," replied his companion, with a grin. "Clap
it in the bill, my boy. ' For total loss of reputation, six
and eightpence.' But," continued Mr. Wickham, with
more seriousness, "could I be bowled out of the Com-
mission for this little jest ? I know it's small, but I like
to be a J. P. Speaking as a professional man, do you
think there's any risk ? "

" What does it matter ? " responded Michael. « ' They'll
chuck you out sooner or later. Somehow you don't
give the effect of being a good magistrate."

" 1 only wish I was a solicitor," retorted his com-
panion, " instead of a poor devil of a country gentleman.
Suppose we start one of those tontine affairs ourselves;
I to pay five hundred a year, and you to guarantee me
against every misfortune except illness or marriage."

" It strikes me," remarked the lawyer with a medita-
tive laugh, as he lighted a cigar; " it strikes me that you
must be a cursed nuisance in this world of ours."

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THE MAGISTRATE IN THE LUGGAGE VAN

"Do you really think so, Finsbury ?" responded the
magistrate, leaning back in his cushions, delighted with
the compliment. "Yes, I suppose I am a nuisance.
But mind you, I have a stake in the country: don't for-
get that, dear boy/ 9

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CHAPTER V

MR. GIDEON FORSYTH AND THE GIGANTIC BOX

It has been mentioned that at Bournemouth Julia
sometimes made acquaintances; it is true she had but
a glimpse of them before the doors of John Street closed
again upon its captives, but the glimpse was sometimes
exhilarating, and the consequent regret was tempered
with hope. Among those whom she had thus met a
year before, was a young barrister of the name of Gideon
Forsyth.

About three o'clock of the eventful day when the
magistrate tampered with the labels, a somewhat moody
and distempered ramble had carried Mr. Forsyth to the
corner of John Street; and about the same moment Miss
Hazeltine was called to the door of No. \6 by a thunder-
ing double knock.

Mr. Gideon Forsyth was a happy enough young man ;
he would have been happier if he had had more money
and less uncle. One hundred and twenty pounds a year
was all his store; but his uncle, Mr. Edward Hugh
Bloomfield, supplemented this with a handsome allow-
ance and a great deal of advice, couched in language
that would probably have been judged intemperate on
board a pirate ship. Mr. Bloomfield was indeed a figure
quite peculiar to the days of Mr. Gladstone; what we

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MR. GIDEON FORSYTH AND THE GIGANTIC BOX

may call (for the lack of an accepted expression) a Squir-
radical. Having acquired years without experience, he
carried into the radical side of politics those noisy, after
dinner-table passions, which we are more accustomed
to connect with toryism in its severe and senile aspects.
To the opinions of Mr. Bradlaugh, in fact, he added the
temper and the sympathies of that extinct animal, the
Squire. He admired pugilism, he carried a formidable
oaken staff, he was a reverent churchman, and it was
hard to know which would have more volcanically
stirred hischoler — a person who should have defended
the established church, or one who should have neglected
to attend its celebrations. He had besides some level-
ing catch-words, justly dreaded in the family circle; and
when he could not go so far as to declare a step Un-
English, he might still (and with hardly less effect) de-
nounce it as Unpractical. It was under the ban of this
lesser excommunication that Gideon had fallen. His
views on the study of law had been pronounced un-
practical; and it had been intimated to him, in a vocifer-
ous interview punctuated with the oaken staff, that he
must either take a new start and get a brief or two, or
prepare to live on his own money.

No wonder if Gideon was moody. He had not the
slightest wish to modify his present habits; but he
would not stand on that, since the recall of Mr. Bloom-
field's allowance would revolutionise them still more
radically. He had not the least desire to acquaint him-
self with law; he had looked into it already, and it
seemed not to repay attention ; but upon this also he
was ready to give way. In fact, he would go as far as
he could to meet the views of his uncle, the squirradicaL

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But there was one part of the programme that appeared
independent of his will. How to get a brief? there was
the question. And there was another and a worse.
Suppose he got one, should he prove the better man ?

Suddenly he found his way barred by a crowd. A
garishly illuminated van was backed against the kerb;
from its open stern, half resting on the street, half sup-
ported by some glistening athletes, the end of the largest
packing-case in the county of Middlesex might have
been seen protruding; while on the steps of the house,
the burly person of the driver and the slim figure of a
young girl stood as upon a stage, disputing.

" It is not for us," the girl was saying. " I beg you
to take it away; it couldn't get into the house, even if
you managed to get it out of the van."

"I shall leave it on the pavement, then, and M. Fins-
bury can arrange with the Vestry as he likes," said the
van-man.

" But I am not M. Finsbury," expostulated the girl.

" It doesn't matter who you are," said the van-man.

"You must allow me to help you, Miss Hazeltine,"
said Gideon, putting out his hand.

Julia gave a little cry of pleasure. ' ' Oh, Mr. Forsyth, "
she cried, "I am so glad to see you; we must get this
horrid thing, which can only have come here by mistake,
into the house. The man says we'll have to take off the
door, or knock two of our windows into one, or be fined
by the Vestry or Custom House or something, for leav-
ing our parcels on the pavement."

The men, by this time, had successfully removed the
box from the van, had plumped it down on the pave-
ment and now stood leaning against it, or gazing at

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MR. GIDEON FORSYTH AND THE GIGANTIC BOX

the door of No. 16, in visible physical distress and
mental embarrassment The windows of the whole
street had filled, as if by magic, with interested and
entertained spectators.

With as thoughtful and scientific an expression as he
could assume, Gideon measured the doorway with his
cane, while Julia entered his observations in a drawing-
book. He then measured the box, and, upon compar-
ing his data, found that there was just enough space for
it to enter. Next, throwing off his coat and waistcoat,
he assisted the men to take the door from its hinges.
And lastly, all by-standers being pressed into the ser-
vice, the packing-case mounted the steps upon some
fifteen pairs of wavering legs — scraped, loudly grind-
ing, through the doorway — and was deposited at
length, with a formidable convulsion, in the far end of
the lobby, which it almost blocked. The artisans of
this victory smiled upon each other as the dust sub-
sided. It was true they had smashed a bust of Apollo
and ploughed the wall into deep ruts; but, at least,
they were no longer one of the public spectacles of
London.

"Well, sir," said the van-man, "I never see such a
job."

Gideon eloquently expressed his concurrence in this
sentiment by pressing a couple of sovereigns in the
man's hand.

"Make it three, sir, and I'll stand Sam to everybody
here! " cried the latter; and this having been done, the
whole body of volunteer porters swarmed into the van,
which drove off in the direction of the nearest reliable
public-house. Gideon closed the door on their de-

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THE WRONG BOX

parture and turned to Julia: their eyes met; the most
uncontrollable mirth seized upon them both, and they
made the house ring with their laughter. Then curios-
ity awoke in Julia's mind, and she went and examined
the box, and more especially the label.

"This is the strangest thing that ever happened,"
she said, with another burst of laughter. "It is cer-
tainly Morris's handwriting, and I had a letter from him
only this morning telling me to expect a barrel. Is
there a barrel coming, too, do you think, Mr. Forsyth ? "

"Statuary with Care, Fragile," read Gideon aloud
from the painted warning on the box. "Then you
were told nothing about this ? "

"No," responded Julia. "Oh, Mr. Forsyth, don't
you think we might take a peep at it?"

"Yes, indeed," cried Gideon. "Just let me have a
hammer."

"Come down, and I'll show you where it is," cried
Julia, "the shelf is too high for me to reach;" and,
opening the door of the kitchen stair, she bade Gideon
follow her. They found both a hammer and a chisel;
but Gideon was surprised to see no sign of a servant
He also discovered that Miss Hazeltine had a very pretty
little foot and ankle; and the discovery embarrassed
him so much that he was glad to fall at once upon the
packing-case.

He worked hard and earnestly, and dealt his blows
with the precision of a blacksmith; Julia the while
standing silently by his side and regarding rather the
workman than the work. He was a handsome fellow,
she told herself; she had never seen such beautiful
arms. And suddenly, as though he had overheard

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MR. GIDEON FORSYTH AND THE GIGANTIC BOX

these thoughts, Gideon turned and smiled to her. She,
too, smiled and coloured ; and the double change be-
came her so prettily that Gideon forgot to turn away
his eyes, and, swinging the hammer with a will, dis-
charged a smashing blow on his own knuckles. With
admirable presence of mind he crushed down an oath
and substituted the harmless comment, "butter fin-
gers I " But the pain was sharp, his nerve was shaken,
and after an abortive trial he found he must desist from
further operations.

In a moment Julia was off to the pantry, in a moment
she was back again with a basin of water and a sponge,
and had begun to bathe his wounded hand.

"I am dreadfully sorry," said Gideon, apologetically.
"If I had had any manners I should have opened the
box first, and smashed my hand afterward. It feels
much better," he added. " I assure you it does."

" And now I think you are well enough to direct op-
erations," said she. "Tell me what to do, and I'll be
your workman."

"A very pretty workman," said Gideon, rather for-
getting himself. She turned and looked at him, with a
suspicion of a frown; and the indiscreet young man
was glad to direct her attention to the packing-case.
The bulk of the work had been accomplished; and pres-
ently Julia had burst through the last barrier and dis-
closed a zone of straw. In a moment they were kneel-
ing side by side, engaged like haymakers; the next
they were rewarded with a glimpse of something white
and polished; and the nexf again, laid bare an unmis-
takable marble leg.

" He is surely a very athletic person," said Julia.

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THE WRONG BOX

"I never saw anything like it/' responded Gideon.
"His muscles stand out like penny rolls."

Another leg was soon disclosed, and then what
seemed to be a third. This resolved itself, however,
into a knotted club resting upon a pedestal

"It is a Hercules," cried Gideon; "I might have
guessed that from his calf. I'm supposed to be rather
partial to statuary, but when it comes to Hercules, the
police should interfere. I should say," he added,
glancing with disaffection at the swoHen leg, "that
this was about the biggest and the worst in Europe.
What in heaven's name can have induced him to come
here?"

"I suppose nobody else would have a gift of him,"
said Julia. "And for that matter, I think we could
have done without the monster very well."

"Oh, don't say that," returned Gideon. "This has
been one of the most amusing experiences of my life."

"I don't think you'll forget it very soon," said Julia.
"Your hand will remind you."

"Well, I suppose I must be going," said Gideon,
reluctantly.

1 ■ No, " pleaded Julia. ' * Why should you ? Stay and
have tea with me."

"If I thought you really wished me to stay," said
Gideon, looking at his hat, "of course I should only be
too delighted."

"What a silly person you must take me fori" re-
turned the girl. "Why, of course I do; and besides I
want some cakes for tea, and I've nobody to send.
Here is the latch-key."

Gideon put on his hat with alacrity, and casting one

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MR. GIDEON FORSYTH AND THE GIGANTIC BOX

look at Miss Hazeltine and another at the legs of Her-
cules, threw open the door and departed on his errand.

He returned with a large bag of the choicest and most
tempting of cakes and tartlets, and found Julia in the act
of spreading a small tea-table in the lobby.

"The rooms are all in such a state/' she cried,
"that I thought we should be more cosy and com-
fortable in our own lobby, and under our own vine and
statuary."

" Ever so much better," cried Gideon, delightedly.

"Oh, what adorable cream tarts!" said Julia, open-
ing the bag, " and the dearest little cherry tartlets, with
all the cherries spilled out into the cream 1 "

" Yes," said Gideon, concealing his dismay, " I knew
they would mix beautifully; the woman behind the
counter told me so."

"Now," said Julia, as they began their little festival,
" I am going to show you Morris's letter; read it aloud,
please; perhaps there's something I have missed."

Gideon took the letter, and spreading it out on his
knee, read as follows:

" Dia* Juua: I write you from Browndean, where we are stopping
over for a few days. Uncle was much shaken in that dreadful acci-
dent, of which, I dare say, you have seen the account. To-morrow I
leave him here with John, and come up alone; but before that you will
have received a barrel containing specimens for a friend. Do not
open it on any account, but leave it in the lobby till I come.

"Yours in haste,

"M. Finsbury.

" P.S.— Be sure and leave the barrel in the lobby."

"No," said Gideon, "there seems to be nothing

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about the monument/' and he nodded as he spoke at
the marble legs. "Miss Hazeltine," he continued,
"would you mind me asking a few questions ?"

"Certainly not," replied Julia; "and if you can make
me understand why Morris has sent a statue of Hercules
instead of a barrel containing specimens for a friend, I
shall be grateful till my dying day. And what are speci-
mens for a friend?"

"I haven't a guess/' said Gideon. "Specimens are
usually bits of stone, but rather smaller than our friend
the monument Still, that is not the point. Are you
quite alone in this big house ? "

" Yes, I am at present," returned Julia. " I came up
before them to prepare the house, and get another
servant But I couldn't get one I liked."

"Then you are utterly alone, "said Gideon in amaze-
ment " Are you not afraid ? "

"No," responded Julia, stoutly. "I don't see why I
should be more afraid than you would be; 1 am weaker,
of course, but when I found I must sleep alone in the
house, I bought a revolver wonderfully cheap, and made
the man show me how to use it"

" And how do you use it ? " demanded Gideon, much
amused at her courage.

"Why," said she, with a smile, "you pull the little
trigger thing on top, and then pointing it very low, for
it springs up as you fire, you pull the underneath little
trigger thing, and it goes off as well as if a man had
done it"

"And how often have you used it?" asked Gideon.

"Oh, I have not used it yet," said the determined
young lady; "but I know how, and that makes me

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MR. GIDEON FORSYTH AND THE GIGANTIC BOX

wonderfully courageous, especially when I barricade my
door with a chest of drawers."

"I'm awfully glad they are coming back soon/' said
Gideon. "This business strikes me as excessively un-
safe; if it goes on much longer, I could provide you
with a maiden aunt of mine, or my landlady, if you
preferred."

" Lend me an aunt! " cried Julia. " Oh, what gener-
osity! I begin to think it must have been you that sent
the Hercules."

"Believe me," cried the young man, "I admire
you too much to send you such an infamous work
of art."

Julia was beginning to reply, when they were both
startled by a knocking at the door.

"Oh, Mr. Forsyth!"

"Don't be afraid, my dear girl," said Gideon, laying
his hand tenderly on her arm.

" I know it's the police," she whispered. " They are
coming to complain about the statue."

The knock was repeated. It was louder than before,
and more impatient.

"It's Morris," cried Julia, in a startled voice, and she
ran to the door and opened it.

It was indeed Morris that stood before them ; not the
Morris of ordinary days, but a wild-looking fellow, pale
and haggard, with blood-shot eyes, and a two days'
beard upon his chin.

"The barrel!" he cried. "Where's the barrel that
came this morning ? " and he stared about the lobby,
his eyes, as they fell upon the legs of Hercules, literally
goggling in his head. " What is that ? " he screamed.

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THE WRONG BOX

"What is that wax- work? Speak, you fool! What
is that? and where's the barrel — the water-butt?"

"No barrel came, Morris/' responded Julia, coldly.
"This is the only thing that has arrived."

"This!" shrieked the miserable man, "I never
heard of it!"

" It came addressed in your hand," replied Julia; "we
had nearly to pull the house down to get it in, and that
is all that I can tell you."

Morris gazed at her in utter bewilderment He passed
his hand over his forehead, he leaned 1 against the wall
like a man about to faint Then his tongue was loosed,
and he overwhelmed the girl with torrents of abuse.
Such fire, such directness, such a choice of ungentle-
manly language, none had ever before suspected Morris to
possess ; and the girl trembled and shrank before his fury.

" You shall not speak to Miss Hazeltine in that way,"
said Gideon, sternly. " It is what I will not suffer."

" I shall speak to the girl as I like," returned Morris,
with a fresh outburst of anger. " Til speak to the hussy
as she deserves."

" Not a word more, sir, not one word," cried Gideon.
"Miss Hazeltine," he continued, addressing the young
girl, "you cannot stay a moment longer in the same
house with this unmanly fellow. Here is my arm, let
me take you where you will be secure from insult"

" Mr. Forsyth," returned Julia, "you are right, I can-
not stay here longer, and I am sure I trust myself to an
honourable gentleman."

Pale and resolute, Gideon offered her his arm, and the
pair descended the steps, followed by Morris clamouring
for the latch-key.

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MR. GIDEON FORSYTH AND THE GIGANTIC BOX

Julia had scarcely handed the key to Morris before an
empty hansom drove smartly into John Street It was
hailed by both men, and as the cabman drew up his res*
tive horse, Morris made a dash into the vehicle.

' ' Sixpence above fare, " he cried, recklessly. ' • Water-
loo station for your life. Sixpence for yourself 1 "

"Make it a shilling, Guv'ner," said the man, with a
grin, "the other parties were first."

"A shilling then," cried Morris, with the inward re-
flection that he would reconsider it at Waterloo. The
man whipped up his horse, and the hansom vanished
from John Street

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CHAPTER VI

THE TRIBULATIONS OF MORRIS: PART THE FIRST

As the hansom span through the streets of London,
Morris sought to rally the forces of his mind. The water-
butt with the dead body had miscarried, and it was
essential to recover it -So much was clear; and if, by
some blest good-fortune, it was still at the station, all
might be well. If it had been sent out, however, if it
were already in the hands of some wrong person, mat-
ters looked more ominous. People who receive unex-
plained packages are usually keen to have them open;
the example of Miss Hazeltine (whom he cursed again)
was there to remind him of the circumstance; and if
anyone had opened the water-butt — " Oh, Lord," cried
Morris at the thought, and carried his hand to his damp
forehead. The private conception of any breach of law
is apt to be inspiriting, for the scheme (while yet in-
choate) wears dashing and attractive colours. Not so
in the least, that part of the criminal's later reflections
which deal with the police. That useful corps (as Morris
now began to think) had scarce been kept sufficiently
in view when he embarked upon his enterprise. " I
must play devilish close," he reflected, and he was aware
of an exquisite thrill of fear in the region of the spine.

" Main line, or loop ? " inquired the cabman, through
the scuttle.

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THE TRIBULATIONS OF MORRIS: PART THE FIRS*

" Main line/' replied Morris, and mentally decided
that the man should have his shilling after all. " It would
be madness to attract attention/' thought he. "But
what this thing will cost me, first and last, begins to be
a nightmare 1"

He passed through the booking office and wandered
disconsolately on the platform. It was a breathing space
in the day's traffic; there were few people there, and
these for the most part quiescent on the benches.
Morris seemed to attract no remark, which was a good
thing; but, on the other hand, he was making no
progress in his quest Something must be done, some-
thing must be risked; every passing instant only added
to his dangers. Summoning all his courage, he stopped
a porter, and asked him if he remembered receiving #*
barrel by the morning train ; he was anxious to get infor
mation, for the barrel belonged to a friend. "It is a
matter of some moment," he added, "for it contains
specimens."

"I was not here this morning, sir," responded the
porter, somewhat reluctantly, "but I'll ask Bill. Do
you recollect, Bill, to have got a barrel from Bourne-
mouth this morning containing specimens ? "

" I don't know about specimens," replied Bill; "but
the party as received the barrel I mean, raised a sight of
trouble."

" What's that ? " cried Morris, in the agitation of the
moment, pressing a penny into the man's hand.

"You see, sir, the barrel arrived at one thirty ; no one
claimed it till about three, when a small, sickly-looking
gentleman (probably a curate) came up, and stz he,
'Have you got anything for Pitman,' or 'Will'm Bent

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THE WRONG BOX

Pitman/ if I recollect right ' I don't exactly know,' sez
I, 'but I rather fancy that there barrel bears that name. 9
The little man went up to the barrel, and seemed regu-
larly all took aback when he saw the address, and then
he pitched into us for not having brought what he
wanted. 'I don't care a damn what you want/ sez I
to him, ' but if you are Will'm Bent Pitman, there's
your barrel. '"

"Well, and did he take it?" cried the breathless
Morris.

"Well, sir," returned Bill, " it appears it was a pack-
ing-case he was after. The packing-case came; that's
sure enough, because it was about the biggest packing-
case ever I clapped eyes on. And this Pitman he seemed
a good deal cut up, and he had the superintendent out,
and they got hold of the van-man — him as took the
packing-case. Well, sir," continued Bill, with a smile,
"I never see a man in such a state; everybody about
that van was mortal, bar the horses. Some gen'leman
(as well as I could make out) had given the van-man a
sov; and so that was where the trouble come in, you
see."

" But what did he say ? " gasped Morris.

"I don't know as he said much, sir," said Bill
" But he offered to fight this Pitman for a pot of been
He had lost his book, too, and the receipts; and his men
were all as mortal as himself. Oh, they were all like — "
and Bill paused for a simile — "like lords! the superin-
tendent sacked them on the spot."

"Oh, come, but that's not so bad," said Morris, with
a bursting sigh. " He couldn't tell where he took the
packing-case, then?"

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THE TRIBULATIONS OF MORRIS: PART THE FIRST

"Not he," said Bill, " nor yet nothink else."

"And what— what did Pitman do ?" asked Morris.

"Oh, he went off with the barrel in a four-wheeler,
very trembling like," replied Bill. " 1 don't believe he's
a gentleman as has good health."

"Well, so the barrel's gone," said Morris, half to
himself.

" You may depend on that, sir," returned the porter.
" But you had better see the superintendent"

"Not in the least, it's of no account," said Morris.
1 ' It only contained specimens. " And he walked hastily
away.

Ensconced once more in a hansom, he proceeded to
reconsider his position. Suppose (he thought), suppose
he should accept defeat and declare his uncle's death at
once P He should lose the tontine, and with that the
last hope of his seven thousand eight hundred pounds.
But on the other hand, since the shilling to the hansom
cabman, he had begun to see that crime was expensive
in its course, and since the loss of the water-butt, that it
was uncertain in its consequences. Qyietly at first, and
then with growing heat, he reviewed the advantages of
backing out It involved a loss ; but (come to think of
it) no such great loss after all; only that of the tontine,
which had been always a toss up, which at bottom he
had never really expected. He reminded himself of that
eagerly; he congratulated himself upon his constant
moderation. He had never really expected the tontine;
he had never even very definitely hoped to recover his
seven thousand eight hundred pounds; he had been
hurried into the whole thing by Michael's obvious dis-
honesty. Yes, it would probably be better to draw

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"This venal doctor seems quite a desideratum/' he
reflected. "I want him first to give me a certificate
that my uncle is dead, so that I may get the leather
business; and then that he's alive — but here we are
again at the incompatible interests I " And he returned
to his tabulation.

Bad.

4. I have almost no money.

5. Yes, but I can't get the money
"m the bank.

6. I have left the bill for eight hun-
dred pounds in Uncle Joseph's
pocket

7. Yes, but if Pitman is dishonest
and finds the bill, he will know
who Joseph is, and he may
blackmail me.

8. But I can't blackmail Michael
(which is, besides, a very dan-
gerous thing to do) until I find
out

9. The leather business will soon
want money for current ex-
penses, and I have none to
give.

10. Yes, but it's all the ship 1 have,
it. John win soon want money,

and I have none to give.
1 a. And the venal doctor will

want money down.
13. And if Pitman is dishonest

and don't send me to jail, he

wiD want a fortune.

Good.

4. But there is plenty in the bank.

5. But — wen, that seems unhap-
pily to be the case.

6. But if Pitman is only a dishon-
est man, the presence of this
b3l may lead him to keep the
whole thing dark and throw
the body into the New Cut

7. Yes, but if I am right about
Uncle Masterman, I can black-
man Michael

8. Worse luck!

9. But the leather business is a
sinking ship.

10. A fact
11.

1 a.

"Oh, this seems to be a very one-sided business,'*
7*

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THE TRIBULATIONS OP MORRIS: PART THB P1RST

exclaimed Morris. " There's not so much in this method
as I was led to think." He crumpled the paper up and
threw it down; and then, the next moment, picked it
up again and ran it over. " It seems it's on the finan-
cial point that my position is weakest/' he reflected.
" Is there positively no way of raising the wind ? In a
vast city like this, and surrounded by all the resources
of civilisation, it seems not to be conceived! Let us
have no more precipitation. Is there nothing I can sell?
My collection of signet — . " But at the thought of scat-
tering these beloved treasures, the blood leaped into
Morris's cheek. "I would rather die! " he exclaimed,
and cramming his hat upon his head, strode forth into
the streets.

" I must raise funds," he thought " My uncle being
dead, the money in the bank is mine; or would be mine,
but for the cursed injustice that has pursued me ever
since I was an orphan in a Commercial Academy. I
know what any other man would do; any other man in
Christendom would forge; although I don't know why
I call it forging, either, when Joseph's dead, and the
funds are my own. When I think of that, when I think
that my uncle is really as dead as mutton, and that I
can't prove it, my gorge rises at the injustice of the
whole affair. I used to feel bitterly about that seven
thousand eight hundred pounds; it seems a trifle now!
Dear me, why, the day before yesterday I was compar-
atively happy."

And Morris stood on the sidewalk and heaved another
sobbing sigh.

"Then there's another thing," he resumed; "can I ?
Am I able ? Why didn't I practise different handwrit-

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ings while I was young ? How a fellow regrets those
lost opportunities when he grows up! But there's one
comfort: it's not morally wrong; I can try it on with a
clear conscience, and even if I was found out, I wouldn't
greatly care — morally, I mean. And then, if I succeed,
and if Pitman is staunch — there's nothing to do but
find a venal doctor; and that ought to be simple enough
in a place like London. By all accounts the town's
alive with them. It wouldn't do, of course, to adver-
tise for a corrupt physician ; that would be impolitic.
No, I suppose a fellow has simply to spot along the
streets for a red lamp and herbs in the window, and
then you go in and — and — and put it to him plainly;
though it seems a delicate step."

He was near home now, after many devious wander-
ings, and turned up John Street As he thrust his latch-
key in the lock, another mortifying reflection struck him
to the heart

" Not even this house is mine till 1 can prove him
dead," he snarled, and slammed the door behind him
so that the windows in the attic rattled.

Night had long fallen; long ago the lamps and the
shop-fronts had begun to glitter down the endless streets ;
the lobby was pitch-dark; and, as the devil would have
it, Morris barked his shins and sprawled all his length
over the pedestal of Hercules. The pain was sharp;
his temper was already thoroughly undermined; by a
last misfortune his hand closed on the hammer as he
fell; and, in a spasm of childish irritation, he turned
and struck at the offending statue. There was a splin-
tering crash.

"OLord, what have I done next?" wailed Morris;

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THE TRIBULATIONS OF MORRIS: PART THE FIRST

and he groped his way to find a candle. "Yes," he
reflected, as he stood with the light in his hand and
looked upon the mutilated leg, from which about a
pound of muscle was detached. "Yes, 1 have de-
stroyed a genuine antique; I may be in for thousands! "
And then there sprung up in his bosom a sort of angry
hope. " Let me see," he thought. "Julia's got rid of;
there's nothing to connect me with that beast, Forsyth ;
the men were all drunk, and (what's better) they've
been all discharged. Oh, come, I think this is another
case for moral courage! I'll deny all knowledge of the
thing."

A moment more, and he stood again before the Her-
cules, his lips sternly compressed, the coal-axe and the
meat-cleaver under his arm. The next, he had fallen
upon the packing-case. This had been already seriously
undermined by the operations of Gideon ; a few well-
directed blows, and it already quaked and gaped; yet a
few more, and it fell about Morris in a shower of boards
followed by an avalanche of straw.

And now the leather merchant could behold the na-
ture of his task; and at the first sight his spirit quailed.
It was indeed, no more ambitious a task for De Lesseps,
with all his men and horses, to attack the hills of Pa-
nama, than for a single, slim young gentleman, with no
previous experience of labour in a quarry, to measure
himself against that bloated monster on his pedestal.
And yet the pair were well encountered : on the one
side, bulk — on the other, genuine heroic fire.

"Down you shall come, you great big ugly brute!"
cried Morris aloud, with something of that passion
which swept the Parisian mob against the walls of the

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Bastille. " Down you shall come, this night I'll have
none of you in my lobby/ 9

The face, from its indecent expression, had particu-
larly animated the zeal of our iconoclast; and it was
against the face that he began his operations. The great
height of the demigod — for he stood a fathom and
half in his stocking feet — offered a preliminary obstacle
to this attack. But here, in the first skirmish of the
battle, intellect already began to triumph over matter.
By means of a pair of library steps, the injured house-
holder gained a posture of advantage; and with great
swipes of the coal-axe, proceeded to decapitate the
brute.

Two hours later, what had been the erect image of
a gigantic coal-porter turned miraculously white, was
now no more than a medley of disjected members: the
quadragenarian torso prone against the pedestal; the
lascivious countenance leering down the kitchen stair;
the legs, the arms, the hands, and even the fingers,
scattered broadcast on the lobby floor. Half an hour
more, and all the debris had been laboriously carted to
the kitchen; and Morris, with a gentle sentiment of
triumph, looked round upon the scene of his achieve-
ments. Yes, he could deny all knowledge of it now:
the lobby, beyond the fact that it was partly ruinous,
betrayed no trace of the passage of Hercules. But it
was a weary Morris that crept up to bed; his arms and
shoulders ached, the palms of his hands burned from
the rough kisses of the coal-axe, and there was one
smarting finger that stole continually to his mouth.
Sleep long delayed to visit the dilapidated hero, and
with the first peep of day it had again deserted him.

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THE TRIBULATIONS OF MORRIS: PART THB FIRST

The morning, as though to accord with his disas-
trous fortunes, dawned inclemently. An easterly gale
was shouting in the streets; flaws of rain angrily as-
sailed the windows; and as Morris dressed, the draught
from the fireplace vividly played about his legs.

"I think/' he could not help observing, bitterly,
"that with all I have to bear, they might have given
me decent weather."

There was no bread in the house, for Miss Hazeltine
(like all women left to themselves) had subsisted en-
tirely upon cake. But some of this was found, and
(along with what the poets call a glass of fair, cold
water) made up a semblance of a morning meal. And
then down he sat undauntedly to his delicate task.

Nothing can be more interesting than the study of
signatures, written (as they are) before meals and after,
during indigestion and intoxication; written when the
signer is trembling for the life of his child, or has come
from winning the Derby, in his lawyer's office, or under
the bright eyes of his sweetheart To the vulgar, these
seem never the same; but to the expert, the bank clerk,
or the lithographer, they are constant quantities and as
recognisable as the North Star to the night-watch on
deck.

To all this Morris was alive. In the theory of that
graceful art in which he was now embarking, our
spirited leather merchant was beyond all reproach. But
happily for the investor, forgery is an affair of practice.
And as Morris sat surrounded by examples of his uncle's
signature, and his own incompetence, insidious depres-
sion stole upon his spirits. From time to time the wind
wuthered in the chimney at his back; from time to time

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there swept over Bloomsbury a squall so dark that he
must rise and light the gas; about him was the chill and
the mean disorder of a house out of commission — the
floor bare, the sofa heaped with books and accounts en-
veloped in a dirty table-cloth, the pens rusted, the paper
glazed with a thick film of dust; and yet these were but
adminicles of misery, and the true root of his depression
lay round him on the table in the shape of misbegotten
forgeries.

" It's one of the strangest things I ever heard of," he
complained. " It almost seems as if it was a talent that
I didn't possess. " He went once more minutely through
his proofs. " A clerk would simply gibe at them," said
he. "Well, there's nothing else but tracing possible."

He waited till a squall had passed and there came a
blink of scowling daylight. Then he went to the win-
dow, and in the face of all John Street traced his uncle's
signature. It was a poor thing at the best " But it
must do," said he, as he stood gazing wofully on his
handiwork. "He's dead anyway." And he filled up
the cheque for a couple of a hundred and sallied forth
for the Anglo-Patagonian Bank.

There, at the desk at which he was accustomed to
transact business, and with as much indifference as he
could assume, Morris presented the forged cheque to
the big, red-bearded Scots teller. The teller seemed to
view it with surprise; and as he turned it this way and
that, and even scrutinised the signature with a magni-
fying glass, his surprise appeared to warm into disfavour.
Begging to be excused for a moment, he passed away
into the rearmost quarters of the bank; whence, after
an appreciable interval, he returned again in earnest

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THE TRIBULATIONS OF MORRIS : PART THE FIRST

talk with a superior, an oldish and a baldish, but a very
gentlemanly man.

" Mr. Morris Finsbury,. I believe/' said the gentle-
manly man, fixing Morris with a pair of double eye-
glasses.

"That is my name," said Morris, quavering. "Is
there anything wrong ? "

"Well, the fact is, Mr. Finsbury, you see we are
rather surprised at receiving this," said the other, flick-
ing at the cheque. " There are no effects."

"No effects?" cried Morris. "Why, I know my-
self there must be eight and twenty hundred pounds, if
there's a penny."

"Two seven six four, I think/' replied the gentle-
manly man; " but it was drawn yesterday."

"Drawn I" cried Morris.

"By your uncle himself, sir," continued the other.
" Not only that, but we discounted a bill for him for —
let me see — how much was it for, Mr. Bell ?"

" Eight hundred, Mr. Judkin," replied the teller.

" Dent Pitman! " cried Morris, staggering back.

"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Judkin.

"It's— - it's only an expletive," said Morris.

"I hope there's nothing wrong, Mr. Finsbury/' said
Mr. Bell.

"All I can tell you," said Morris, with a harsh laugh,
"is that the whole thing's impossible. My uncle is at
Bournemouth, unable to move."

"Really!" cried Mr. Bell, and he recovered the
cheque from Mr. Judkin. " But this cheque is dated in
London, and to-day," he observed. "How d'ye ac-
count for that, sir?"

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"Oh, that was a mistake/' said Morris, and a deep
tide of colour dyed his face and neck.

"No doubt, no doubt, 9 ' said Mr. Judkin, but he
looked at his customer inquiringly.

"And — and — ," resumed Morris, "even if there
were no effects — this is a very trifling sum to over-
draw — our firm — the name of Finsbury is surely good
enough for such a wretched sum as this. 9 '

"No doubt, Mr. Finsbury, 99 returned Mr. Judkin;
"and if you insist I will take it into consideration; but
I hardly think — in short, Mr. Finsbury, if there had
been nothing else, the signature seems hardly all that
we could wish."

"That's of no consequence," replied Morris, nervous-
ly. "I'll get my uncle to sign another. The fact is,"
he went on, with a bold stroke, " my uncle is so far
from well at present that he was unable to sign this
cheque without assistance, and I fear that my holding
the pen for him may have made the difference in the
signature."

Mr. Judkin shot a keen glance into Morris's face; and
then turned and looked at Mr. Bell.

"Well," he said, "it seems as if we have been vic-
timised by a swindler. Pray tell Mr. Finsbury we shall
put detectives on at once. As for this cheque of yours,
I regret that, owing to the way it was signed, the bank
can hardly consider it — what shall I say? — business-
like," and he returned the cheque across the counter.

Morris took it up mechanically, he was thinking of
something very different

"In a case of this kind," he began, "I believe the
loss falls on us; I mean upon my uncle and myself."

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THE TRIBULATIONS OF MORRIS: PART THB FIRST

"It does not, sir/' replied Mr. Bell; "the bank is re-
sponsible, and the bank will either recover the money
or refund it, you may depend on that."

Morris's face fell; then it was visited by another gleam
of hope.

"I'll tell you what," he said, "you leave this entirely
in my hands. Til sift the matter. I've an idea, at any
rate; and detectives/' he added appealingly, "are so
expensive."

"The bank would not hear of it," returned Mr. Jud-
kin. " The bank stands to lose between three and four
thousand pounds; it will spend as much more if neces-
sary. An undiscovered forger is a permanent danger.
We shall clear it up to the bottom, Mr. Finsbury, set
your mind at rest on that"

"Then I'll stand the loss," said Morris, boldly. "I
order you to abandon the search." He was determined
that no inquiry should be made.

"1 beg your pardon," returned Mr. Judkin, "but we
have nothing to do with you in this matter, which is
one between your uncle and ourselves. If he should
take this opinion, and will either come here himself or
will let me see him in his sick-room "

" Qyite impossible," cried Morris.

"Well then, you see," said Mr. Judkin, "how my
hands are tied. The whole affair must go at once into
the hands of the police."

Morris mechanically folded the cheque and restored it
to his pocket-book.

" Good-morning," said he, and scrambled somehow
out of the bank.

"I don't know what they suspect," he reflected, "I

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can't make them out, their whole behaviour is thor-
oughly unbusinesslike. But it doesn't matter: all's up
with everything. The money has been paid ; the police
are on the scent; in two hours, that idiot Pitman will
be nabbed — and the whole story of the dead body in
the evening papers."

If he could have heard what passed in the bank after
his departure, he would have been less alarmed, perhaps
more mortified.

" That was a curious affair, Mr. Bell," said Mr. Judkin.

" Yes, sir," said Mr. Bell, "but 1 think we have given
him a fright"

" Oh, we shall hear no more of Mr. Morris Finsbury,"
returned the other; "it was a first attempt, and the
house have dealt with us so long that I was anxious to
deal gently. But I suppose, Mr. Bell, there can be no
mistake about yesterday? It was old Mr. Finsbury
himself?"

"There could be no possible doubt of that," said Mr.
Bell, with a chuckle. " He explained to me the princi-
ples of banking."

" Well, well," said Mr. Judkin. "The next time he
calls, ask him to step into my room. It is only proper
he should be warned."

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CHAPTER VII

IN WHICH WILLIAM DENT PITMAN TAKES LEGAL ADVICE

Norfolk Street, King's Road— jocularly known
among Mr. Pitman's lodgers as "Norfolk Island," is
neither a long, a handsome, nor a pleasing thoroughfare.
Dirty, undersized maids-of-all-work issue from it in
pursuit of beer, or linger on its sidewalk listening to the
voice of love. The cat's-meat man passes twice a day.
An occasional organ-grinder wanders in and wanders
out again, disgusted. In holiday time the street is the
arena of the young bloods of the neighbourhood, and
the householders have an opportunity of studying the
manly art of self-defence. And yet Norfolk Street has
one claim to be respectable, for it contains not a single
shop — unless you count the public house at the corner,
which is really in the King's Road.

The door of No. 7 bore a brass plate inscribed with
the legend " W. D. Pitman, Artist." It was not a par-
ticularly clean brass plate, nor was No. 7 itself a par-
ticularly inviting place of residence. And yet it had a
character of its own, such as may well quicken the pulse
of the reader's curiosity. For here was the home of an
artist — and a distinguished artist too, highly distin-
guished by his ill-success — which had never been made
the subject of an article in the illustrated magazines. No

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wood-engraver had ever reproduced " a corner in the
back drawing-room " or "the studio mantelpiece" of
No. 7; no young lady author had ever commented on
"the unaffected simplicity" with which Mr. Pitman re-
ceived her in the midst of his "treasures." It is an
omission I would gladly supply, but our business is only
with the backward parts and " abject rear " of this aes-
thetic dwelling.

Here was a garden, boasting a dwarf fountain (that
never played) in the centre, a few grimy-looking flowers
in pots, two or three newly-planted trees which the spring
of Chelsea visited without noticeable consequence, and
two or three statues after the antique, representing sa-
tyrs and nymphs in the worst possible style of sculp-
tured art On one side, the garden was over-shadowed
by a pair of crazy studios, usually hired out to the more
obscure and youthful practitioners of British art. Oppo-
site these another lofty out-building, somewhat more
carefully finished, and boasting of a communication
with the house and a private door on the back lane,
enshrined the multifarious industry of Mr. Pitman. All
day, it is true, he was engaged in the work of educa-
tion at a seminary for young ladies ; but the evenings at
least were his own, and these he would prolong far
into the night, now dashing off A landscape with water-
fall in oil, now a volunteer bust ("in marble," as he
would gently but proudly observe) of some public
character, now stooping his chisel to a mere nympb
("for a gas-bracket on a stair, sir "), or a life-size Infant
Samuel for a religious nursery. Mr. Pitman had studied
in Paris, and he had studied in Rome, supplied with
funds by a fond parent who went subsequently bank-

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IK WHICH WILLIAM DENT PITMAN TAKES LEGAL ADVICE

nipt, in consequence of a fall in corsets; and though he
was never thought to have the smallest modicum of
talent, it was at one time supposed that he had learned
his business. Eighteen years of what is called ' ' tuition "
had relieved him of the dangerous knowledge. His artist
lodgers would sometimes reason with him ; they would
point out to him how impossible it was to paint by gas-
light, or to sculpture life-sized nymphs without a model.

"I know that," he would reply. " No one in Nor-
folk Street knows it better; and if I were rich I should
certainly employ the best models in London ; but being
poor, I have taught myself to do without them. An
occasional model would only disturb my ideal concep-
tion of the figure, and be a positive impediment in my
career. As for painting by an artificial light," he would
continue, "that is simply a knack I have found it neces-
sary to acquire, my days being engrossed in the work
of tuition."

At the moment when we must present him to our
readers, Pitman was in his studio alone, by the dying
light of the October day. He sat (sure enough with
" unaffected simplicity ") in a Windsor chair, his low-
crowned black felt hat by his side; a dark, weak, harm-
less, pathetic little man, clad in the hue of mourning,
his coat longer than is usual with the laity, his neck
enclosed in a collar without a parting, his neckcloth
pale in hue and simply tied ; the whole outward man,
except for a pointed beard, tentatively clerical. There
was a thinning on the top of Pitman's head, there were
silver hairs at Pitman's temple; poor gentleman, he was
no longer young; and years, and poverty, and humble
ambition thwarted, make a cheerless lot.

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In front of him, in the corner by the door, there stood
a portly barrel ; and let him turn them where he might,
it was always to the barrel that his eyes and his thoughts
returned.

"Should I open it? Should I return it? Should I
communicate with Mr. Semitopolis at once ? " he won-
dered. "No," he concluded finally, " nothing without
Mr. Finsbury's advice." And he arose and produced a
shabby leathern desk. It opened without the formality
of unlocking, and displayed the thick cream-coloured
note paper on which Mr. Pitman was in the habit of
communicating with the proprietors of schools and the
parents of his pupils. He placed the desk on the table
by the window, and taking a saucer of Indian ink from
the chimney-piece, laboriously composed the following
letter:

" My dear Mr. Ftnsbury," it ran, " would it be presuming on your
kindness if I asked you to pay me a visit here this evening ? It is in
no trifling matter that I invoke your valuable assistance, for need I say
more than it concerns the welfare of Mr. Semitopolis's statue of Her-
cules? 1 write you in great agitation of mind; for I have made all in-
quiries, and greatly fear that this work of ancient art has been mislaid.
I labour besides under another perplexity, not unconnected with the
first. Pray excuse the inelegance of this scrawl, and believe me yours
in haste, William D. Pitman. 1 '

Armed with this he set forth and rang the bell of No.
233 King's Road, the private residence of Michael Fins-
bury. He had met the lawyer at a time of great public
excitement in Chelsea; Michael, who had a sense of hu-
mour and a great deal of careless kindness in his nature,
followed the acquaintance up, and having come to laugh,
remained to drop into a contemptuous kind of friend-

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IN WHICH WILLIAM DENT PITMAN TAKES LEGAL ADVICE

ship. By this time, which was four years after the first
meeting, Pitman was the lawyer's dog.

"No," said the elderly housekeeper who opened the
door in person, "Mr. Michael's not in yet But ye're
looking terrible poorly, Mr. Pitman. Take a glass of
sherry, sir, to cheer ye up."

"No, I thank you, ma'am," replied the artist "It is
very good in you, but I scarcely feel in sufficient spirits
for sherry. Just give Mr. Finsbury this note, and ask
him to look round — to the door in the lane, you will
please tell him; I shall be in the studio all evening."

And he turned again into the street and walked slowly
homeward. A bair-dresser's window caught his atten-
tion, and he stared long and earnestly at the proud, high-
born, waxen lady in evening dress, who circulated in
the centre of the show. The artist woke in him, in
spite of his troubles.

" It is all very well to run down the men who make
these things," he cried, "but there's a something —
there's a haughty, indefinable something about that
figure. It's what I tried for in my Empress Euginie,"
he added, with a sigh.

And he went home reflecting on the quality. " They
don't teach you that direct appeal in Paris," he thought
"It's British. Come, I am going to sleep, I must wake
up, I must aim higher — aim higher," cried the little ar-
tist to himself. All through his tea and afterward, as
he was giving his eldest boy a lesson on the fiddle, his
mind dwelt no longer on his troubles, but he was wrapt
into the better land; and no sooner was he at liberty
than he hastened with positive exhilaration to his studio.

Not even the sight of the barrel could entirely cast him
87

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down. He flung himself with rising zest into his work
— a bust of Mr. Gladstone from a photograph; turned
(with extraordinary success) the difficulty of the back
of the head, for which he had no documents beyond a
hazy recollection of a public meeting; delighted himself
by his treatment of the collar; and was only recalled to
the cares of life by Michael Finsbury's rattle at the door.

"Well, what's wrong?" said Michael, advancing to
the grate where, knowing his friend's delight in a bright
fire, Mr. Pitman had not spared the fuel. "I suppose
you have come to grief somehow."

"There is no expression strong enough," said the
artist "Mr. Semitopolis's statue has not turned up,
and I am afraid I shall be answerable for the money; but
I think nothing of that — what I fear, my dear Mr. Fins-
bury, what I fear — alas, that 1 should have to say it! —
is exposure. The Hercules was to be smuggled out of
Italy ; a thing positively wrong, a thing in which a man
of my principles and in my responsible position should
have taken (as 1 now see too late) no part whatever."

"This sounds like very serious work," said the law-
yer. " It will require a great deal of drink, Pitman."

" I took the liberty of — in short, of being prepared
for you," replied the artist, pointing to a kettle, a bottle
of gin, a lemon, and glasses.

Michael mixed himself a grog, and offered the artist a
cigar.

"No, thank you," said Pitman. " I used occasion-
ally to be rather partial to it, but the smell is so disagree-
able about the clothes."

"All right," said the lawyer. "I am comfortable
now. Unfold your tale."

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IN WHICH WILLIAM DENT PITMAN TAKES LEGAL ADVICE

At some length, Pitman set forth his sorrows. He
had gone to-day to Waterloo, expecting to receive the
colossal Hercules, and he had received instead a barrel
not big enough to hold Discobolus ; yet the barrel was
addressed in the hand (with which he was perfectly ac-
quainted) of his Roman correspondent. What was
stranger still, a case had arrived by the same train, large
enough and heavy enough to contain the Hercules; and
this case had been taken to an address now undiscover-
able. "The van man (I regret to say it) had been
drinking, and his language was such as 1 could never
bring myself to repeat He was at once discharged by
the superintendent of the line, who behaved most prop-
erly throughout and is to make inquiries at Southamp-
ton. In the meanwhile, what was I to do ? I left my
address and brought the barrel home; but remembering
an old adage, I determined not to open it except in the
presence of my lawyer."

" Is that all ? " asked Michael. " I don't see any cause
to worry. The Hercules has stuck upon the road. It
will drop in to-morrow or the day after; and as for the
barrel, depend upon it, it's a testimonial from one of
your young ladies, and probably contains oysters."

' ' Oh, don't speak so loud ! " cried the little artist. ' ' It
would cost me my place if I were heard to speak lightly
of the young ladies, and besides, why oysters from Italy ?
and why should they come to me addressed in Signor
Ricardi'shand?"

" Well, let's have a look at it," said Michael. " Let's
roll it forward to the light."

The two men rolled the barrel from the corner, and
stood it on end before the fire.

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" It's heavy enough to be oysters/' remarked Michael,
judiciously.

"Shall we open it at once ?" inquired the artist, who
had grown decidedly cheerful under the combined
effects of company and gin; and without waiting for a
reply, he began to strip as if for a prize-fight, tossed
his clerical collar in the waste-paper basket, hung his
clerical coat upon a nail, and with a chisel in one hand
and a hammer in the other, struck the first blow of the
evening.

"That's the style, William Dent!" cried Michael.
"There's fire for your money! It may be a romantic
visit from one of the young ladies — a sort of Cleopatra
business. Have a care, and don't stave in Cleopatra's
head."

But the sight of Pitman's alacrity was infectious. The
lawyer could sit still no longer. Tossing his cigar into
the fire, he snatched the instrument from the unwilling
hands of the artist, and fell to himself. Soon the sweat
stood in beads upon his large, fair brow; his stylish
trousers were defaced with iron rust, and the state of
his chisel testified to misdirected energies.

A cask is not an easy thing to open, even when you
set about it in the right way; when you set about it
wrongly, the whole structure must be resolved into
its elements. Such was the course pursued alike by
the artist and the lawyer. Presently the last hoop had
been removed — a couple of smart blows tumbled the
staves upon the ground — and what had once been a
barrel was no more than a confused heap of broken
and distorted boards.

In the midst of these, a certain dismal something,
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swathed in blankets, remained for an instant upright,
and then toppled to one side and heavily collapsed be-
fore the fire. Even as the thing subsided, an eyeglass
tingled to the floor and rolled toward the screaming
Pitman.

"Hold your tongue!" said Michael. He dashed to
the house door and locked it; then, with a pale face and
bitten lip, he drew near, pulled aside a corner of the
swathing blanket, and recoiled, shuddering.

There was a long silence in the studio.

" Now tell me," said Michael, in a low voice: "Had
you any hand in it ? " and he pointed to the body.

The little artist could only utter broken and disjointed
sounds.

Michael poured some gin into a glass. " Drink that,"
he said. "Don't be afraid of me. I'm your friend
through thick and thin."

Pitman put the liquor down untasted.

"I swear before God," he said, " this is another mys-
tery to me. In my worst fears, I never dreamed of such
a thing. I would not lay a finger on a sucking infant."

"That's all square," said Michael, with a sigh of
huge relief. " I believe you, old boy." And he shook
the artist warmly by the hand. " I thought for a mo-
ment," he added, with rather a ghastly smile, "I thought
for a moment you might have made way with Mr.
Semitopolis."

" It would make no difference if I had," groaned Pit-
man. "All is at an end for me. There's the writing
on the wall."

" To begin with," said Michael, " let's get him out of
sight; for to be quite plain with you, Pitman, I don't

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like your friend's appearance.'' And with that the law-
yer shuddered. "Where can we put it ? "

"You might put it in the closet there — if you could
bear to touch it," answered the artist

"Somebody has to do it, Pitman," returned the law-
yer; "and it seems as if it had to be me. You go over
to the table, turn your back, and mix me a grog; that's
a fair division of labour."

About ninety seconds later, the closet door was heard
to shut.

"There, "observed Michael, "that's more home-like.
You can turn now, my pallid Pitman. Is this the grog ?"
he ran on. " Heaven forgive you, it's a lemonade ! "

"But oh, Finsbury, what are we to do with it?"
wailed the artist, laying a clutching hand upon the law-
yer's arm.

"Do with it ? " repeated Michael. « • Bury it in one of
your flower-beds, and erect one of your own statues for
a monument I tell you we should look devilish roman-
tic shovelling out the sod by the moon's pale ray. Here,
put some gin in this."

"I beg of you, Mr. Finsbury, do not trifle with my
misery," cried Pitman. "You see before you a man
who has been all his life — I do not hesitate to say it —
eminently respectable. Even in this solemn hour I can
lay my hand upon my heart without a blush. Except
on the really trifling point of the smuggling of the Her-
cules (and even of that I now humbly repent), my life
has been entirely fit for publication. I never feared the
light," cried the little man; "and now — now — !"

"Cheer up, old boy," said Michael. "I assure you
we should count this little contretemps a trifle at the

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IN WHICH WILLIAM DENT PITMAN TAKES LEGAL ADVICE

office; it's the sort of thing that may occur to anyone;
and if you're perfectly sure you had no hand in it "

"What language am I to find " began Pitman.

"Oh, I'll do that part of it," interrupted Michael,
"you have no experience. But the point is this: If —
or rather since — you know nothing of the crime, since
the — the party in the closet — is neither your father,
nor your brother, nor your creditor, nor your mother-
in-law, nor what they call an injured husband "

"Oh, my dear sir!" interjected Pitman, horrified.

"Since, in short," continued the lawyer, "you had
no possible interest in the crime, we have a perfectly
free field before us and a safe game to play. Indeed the
problem is really entertaining; it is one I have long con-
templated in the light of an A. B. case; here it is at last
under my hand in specie; and I mean to pull you
through. Do you hear that? — I mean to pull you
through. Let me see: it's a long time since I have had
what I call a genuine holiday ; I'll send an excuse to-
morrow to the office. We had best be lively," he
added, significantly; "for we must not spoil the mar-
ket for the other man."

"What do you mean?" inquired Pitman. "What
other man ? The inspector of police ? "

" Damn the inspector of police! " remarked his com-
panion. "If you won't take the short cut and bury
this in your back garden, we must find someone who
will bury it in his. We must place the affair, in short,
in the hands of someone of fewer scruples and more
resources."

" A private detective, perhaps?" suggested Pitman.

"There are times when you fill me with pity," ob-
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served the lawyer. " By the way, Pitman," he added,
in another key, "I have always regretted that you
have no piano in this den of yours. Even if you don't
play yourself, your friends might like to entertain them-
selves with a little music while you were mudding."

"I shall get one at once if you like/' said Pitman,
nervously, anxious to please. " I play the fiddle a little
as it is."

"I know you do," said Michael; "but what's the
fiddle — above all as you play it? What you want is
polyphonic music. And I'll tell you what it is, since
it's too late for you to buy a piano I'll give you mine."

4 'Thank you," said the artist, blankly. "You will
give me yours ? I am sure it's very good in you."

"Yes, I'll give you mine," continued Michael, "for
the inspector of police to play on while his men are
digging up your back garden."

Pitman stared at him in pained amazement.

"No, I'm not insane," Michael went on. " I'm play-
ful but quite coherent. See here, Pitman; follow me
one half minute. I mean to profit by the refreshing
fact that we are really and truly innocent; nothing but
the presence of the — you know what — connects us
with the crime; once let us get rid of it, no matter
how, and there is no possible clue to trace us by.
Well, I give you my piano; we'll bring it round this
very night To-morrow, we rip the fittings out, de-
posit the — our friend — inside, plump the whole on a
cart, and carry it to the chambers of a young gentleman
whom I know by sight."

"Whom you know by sight?" repeated Pitman.

"And what is more to the purpose," continued

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Michael, " whose chambers I know better than he does
himself. A friend of mine — I call him my friend for
brevity; he is now, I understand, in Demerara and
(most likely) in jail — was the previous occupant. I
defended him, and I got him off too — all saved but
honour; his assets were nil, but he gave me what he
had, poor gentleman, and along with the rest — the key
of his chambers. It's there that I propose to leave the
piano and, shall we say, Cleopatra?"

1 ■ It seems very wild, " said Pitman. "And what will
become of the poor young gentleman whom you know
by sight?"

"It will do him good," said Michael, cheerily. "Just
what he wants to steady him."

" But, my dear sir, he might be involved in a charge
of — a charge of murder," gulped the artist.

" Well, he'll be just where we are," returned the law-
yer. "He's innocent, you see. What hangs people,
my dear Pitman, is the unfortunate circumstance of
guilt."

"But indeed, indeed," pleaded Pitman, "the whole
scheme appears to me so wild. Would it not be safer,
after all, just to send for the police ? "

"And make a scandal ?" inquired Michael. " 'The
Chelsea Mystery ; alleged innocence of Pitman ? ' How
would that do at the Seminary ? "

" It would imply my discharge," admitted the draw-
ing-master. " I cannot deny that."

"And besides," said Michael, "I am not going to
embark in such a business and have no fun for my
money."

"Oh, my dear sir, is that a proper spirit ? "cried Pitman.

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" Oh, I only said that to cheer you up," said the una-
bashed Michael "Nothing like a little judicious levity.
But it's quite needless to discuss. If you mean to fol-
low my advice, come on, and let us get the piano at
once. If you don't, just drop me the word, and I'll
leave you to deal with the whole thing according to
your better judgment"

"You know perfectly well that I depend on you en-
tirely," returned Pitman. "But oh, what a night is
before me with that — horror in my studio! How am
I to think of it on my pillow ?"

"Well, you know, my piano will be there too," said
Michael. " That'll raise the average."

An hour later a cart came up the lane, and the law-
yer's piano — a momentous Broadwood grand — was
deposited in Mr. Pitman's studio.

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CHAPTER VIII

IN WHICH MICHAEL FINSBURY ENJOYS A HOLIDAY

Punctually at eight o'clock next morning the lawyer
rattled (according to previous appointment) on the
studio door. He found the artist sadly altered for the
worse — bleached, bloodshot, and chalky — a man upon
wires, the tail of his haggard eye still wandering to the
closet. Nor was the professor of drawing less inclined
to wonder at his friend. Michael was usually attired
in the height of fashion, with a certain mercantile bril-
liancy best described perhaps as stylish ; nor could any-
thing be said against him, as a rule, but that he looked
a trifle too like a wedding guest to be quite a gentle-
man. To-day he had fallen altogether from these
heights. He wore a flannel shirt of washed-out shep-
herd's tartan, and a suit of reddish tweeds, of the colour
known to tailors as "heather mixture;" his neckcloth
was black, and tied loosely in a sailor's knot; a rusty
ulster partly concealed these advantages; and his feet
were shod with rough walking boots. His hat was
an old soft felt, which he removed with a flourish as he
entered.

"Here 1 am, William Dent!" he cried, and drawing
from his pocket two little wisps of reddish hair, he held
them to his cheeks like side-whiskers and danced about
the studio with the filmy graces of a ballet-girl.

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"Talking about it's nothing, my boy!" returned
Michael. " But take your hat and be off, and mind and
pay everything beforehand."

Left to himself, the lawyer turned his attention for
some time exclusively to the liqueur brandy, and his
spirits, which had been pretty fair all morning, now
prodigiously rose. He proceeded to adjust his whiskers
finally before the glass. " Devilish rich," he remarked,
as he contemplated his reflection ; " I look like a purser's
mate." And at that moment, the window-glass spec-
tacles (which he had hitherto destined for Pitman) flashed
into his mind; he put them on, and fell in love with the
effect "Just what I required," he said. "I wonder
what I look like now ? A humorous novelist, I should
think," and he began to practise divers characters of
walk, naming them to himself as he proceeded. ' ' Walk
of a humorous novelist — but that would require an um-
brella. Walk of a purser's mate. Walk of an Australian
colonist revisiting the scenes of childhood. Walk of
Sepoy colonel, ditto, ditto." And in the midst of the
Sepoy colonel (which was an excellent assumption, al-
though inconsistent with the style of his make-up), his
eye lighted on the piano. This instrument was made
to lock both at the top and at the keyboard, but the key
of the latter had been mislaid. Michael opened it and.
ran his fingers over the dumb keys. " Fine instrument
— full, rich tone," he observed, and he drew in a seat.

When Mr. Pitman returned to the studio, he was ap-
palled to observe his guide, philosopher, and friend per-
forming miracles of execution on the silent grand.

"Heaven help me!" thought the little man, "I fear
he has been drinking! Mr. Pinsbury," he said aloud;

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and Michael, without rising, turned upon him a coun-
tenance somewhat flushed, encircled with the bush of
the red whiskers, and bestridden by the spectacles.
"Capriccio in B-flat on the departure of a friend," said
he, continuing his noiseless evolutions.

Indignation awoke in the mind of Pitman. "Those
spectacles were to be mine," he cried. "They are an
essential part of my disguise."

" I am going to wear them myself," replied Michael;
and he added, with some show of truth, "there would
be a devil of a lot of suspicion aroused if we both wore
spectacles."

"Oh, well," said the assenting Pitman, "I rather
counted on them; but of course, if you insist! And at
any rate, here is the cart at the door."

While the men were at work, Michael concealed him-
self in the closet among the dtbris of the barrel and the
wires of the piano; and as soon as the coast was clear,
the pair sallied forth by the lane, jumped into a hansom
in the King's Road, and were driven rapidly toward
town. It was still cold and raw and boisterous; the
rain beat strongly in their faces, but Michael refused to
have the glass let down; he had now suddenly donned
the character of cicerone, and pointed out and lucidly
commented on the sights of London, as they drove.

" My dear fellow," he said, "you don't seem to know
anything of your native city. Suppose we visited the
Tower ? No ? Well, perhaps it's a trifle out of our
way. But anyway — Here, Cabby, drive round by
Trafalgar Square! " And on that historic battle-field he
insisted on drawing up, while he criticised the statues
and gave the artist many curious details (quite new to

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history) of the lives of the celebrated men they repre-
sented

It would be difficult to express what Pitman suffered
in the cab: cold, wet, terror in the capital degree, a
grounded distrust of the commander under whom he
served, a sense of impudency in the matter of the low-
necked shirt, a bitter sense of the decline and fall in-
volved in the deprivation of his beard, all these were
among the ingredients of the bowl. To reach the res-
taurant, for which they were deviously steering, was
the first relief. To hear Michael bespeak a private room
was a second and a still greater. Nor, as they mounted
the stair under the guidance of an unintelligible alien,
did he fail to note with gratitude the fewness of the per-
sons present, or the still more cheering fact that the
greater part of these were exiles from the land of France.
It was thus a blessed thought that none of them would
be connected with the Seminary; for even the French
professor, though admittedly a papist, he could scarce
imagine frequenting so rakish an establishment

The alien introduced them into a small, bare room
with a single table, a sofa, and a dwarfish fire; and Mi-
chael called promptly for more coals and a couple of
brandies and sodas.

"Oh, no," said Pitman, "surely not — no more to
drink."

" I don't know what you would beat," said Michael,
plaintively. ' ' It's positively necessary to do something ;
and one shouldn't smoke before meals — I thought that
was understood. You seem to have no idea of hygiene. "
And he compared his watch with the clock upon the
chimney-piece.

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Pitman fell into bitter musing; here he was, ridicu-
lously shorn, absurdly disguised, in the company of a
drunken man in spectacles, and waiting for a champagne
luncheon in a restaurant painfully foreign. What would
his principals think, if they could see him ? What, if
they knew his tragic and deceitful errand ?

From these reflections he was aroused by the entrance
of the alien with the brandies and sodas. Michael took
one and bade the waiter pass the other to his friend.

Pitman waved it from him with his hand. "Don't
let me lose all self-respect," he said.

"Anything to oblige a friend," returned Michael
" But I'm not going to drink alone. Here," he added
to the waiter, "you take it." And then, touching glasses,
"The health of Mr. Gideon Forsyth," said he.

"Meestare Gidden Borsye," replied the waiter, and
he tossed off the liquor in four gulps.

" Have another?" said Michael, with undisguised in-
terest. " I never saw a man drink faster. It restores
one's confidence in the human race."

But the waiter excused himself politely, and assisted
by someone from without, began to bring in lunch.

Michael made an excellent meal, which he washed
down with a bottle of Heidsieck's dry monopole. As
for the artist, he was far too uneasy to eat, and his com-
panion flatly refused to let him share in the champagne
unless he did.

"One of us must stay sober," remarked the lawyer,
"and I won't give you champagne on the strength of
a leg of grouse. I have to be cautious," he added, con-
fidentially. "One drunken man, excellent business—
two drunken men, all my eye."

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On the production of coffee and departure of the
waiter, Michael might have been observed to make por-
tentous efforts after gravity of mien. He looked his
friend in the face (one eye perhaps a trifle off), and ad-
dressed him thickly but severely.

"Enough of this fooling/' was his not inappropriate
exordium. " To business. Mark me closely. I am an
Australian. My name is John Dickson, though you
mightn't think it from my unassuming appearance. You
will be relieved to hear that I am rich, sir, very rich.
You can't go into this sort of thing too thoroughly, Pit-
man; the whole secret is preparation, and 1 get up my
biography from the beginning, and I could tell it you
now, only I have forgotten it"

" Perhaps I'm stupid " began Pitman.

" That's it! " cried Michael. " Very stupid ; but rich
too — richer than I am. I thought you would enjoy it,
Pitman, so I've arranged that you were to be literally
wallowing in wealth. But then, on the other hand,
you're only an American, and a maker of india-rubber
overshoes at that. And the worst of it is — why should
I conceal it from you — the worst of it is that you're
called Ezra Thomas. Now," said Michael, with a really
appalling seriousness of manner, " tell me who we are."

The unfortunate little man was cross-examined till he
knew these facts by heart.

"There!" cried the lawyer. "Our plans are laid.
Thoroughly consistent — that's the great thing."

" But 1 don't understand," objected Pitman.

"Oh, you'll understand right enough when it comes
to the point," said Michael, rising.

"There doesn't seem any story to it," said the artist
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"We can invent one as we go along," returned the
lawyer.

"But I can't invent," protested Pitman. "I never
could invent in all my life."

"You'll find you have to, my boy," was Michael's
easy comment, and he began calling for the waiter, with
whom he at once resumed a sparkling conversation.

It was a down-cast little man that followed him. "Of
course he is very clever, but can I trust him in such a
state ? " he asked himself. And when they were once
more in a hansom, he took heart of grace.

" Don't you think," he faltered, "it would be wiser,
considering all things, to put this business off?"

" Put off till to-morrow what can be done to-day ?"
cried Michael, with indignation. "Never heard of such
a thing! Cheer up, it's all right, go in and win —there's
a lion-hearted Pitman ! "

At Cannon Street, they inquired for Mr. Brown's
piano, which had duly arrived, drove thence to a neigh-
bouring mews, where they contracted for a cart, and
while that was being got ready, took shelter in the har-
ness-room beside the stove. Here the lawyer presently
toppled against the wall and fell into a gentle slumber;
so that Pitman found himself launched on his own re-
sources in the midst of several staring loafers, such as
love to spend unprofitable days about a stable.

' ' Rough day, sir, " observed one. ' ' Do you go far ? "

"Yes, it's a — rather a rough day," said the artist;
and then, feeling that he must change the conversation,
"my friend is an Australian, he is very impulsive," he
added.

"An Australian?" said another. "I've a brother
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myself in Melbourne. Does your friend come from that
way at all ? "

"No, not exactly/' replied the artist, whose ideas of
the geography of New Holland were a little scattered.
" He lives immensely far inland, and is very rich."

The loafers gazed with great respect upon the slum-
bering colonist

" Well," remarked the second speaker, " it's a mighty
big place, is Australia. Do you come from there away
too?"

" No, I do not," said Pitman. " I do not, and I don't
want to," he added, irritably. And then feeling some
diversion needful, he fell upon Michael and shook him up.

" Hullo," said the lawyer, "what's wrong?"

" The cart is nearly ready," said Pitman, sternly. " I
will not allow you to sleep."

"All right — no offence, old man," replied Michael,
yawning. " A little sleep never did anybody any harm ;
I feel comparatively sober now. But what's all the
hurry?" he added, looking round him glassily. "I
don't see the cart, and I've forgotten where we left the
piano."

What more the lawyer might have said, in the confi-
dence of the moment, is with Pitman a matter of tremu-
lous conjecture to this day; but by the most blessed
circumstance, the cart was then announced, and Michael
must bend the forces of his mind to the more difficult
task of rising.

"Of course, you'll drive," he remarked to his com-
panion, as he clambered on the vehicle.

" 1 drivel " cried Pitman. " I never did such a thing
in my life. I cannot drive."

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"Very well," responded Michael, with entire compo-
sure, " neither can I see. But just as you like. Anything
to oblige a friend."

A glimpse of the ostler's darkening countenance de-
cided Pitman. " All right," he said, desperately, "you
drive. I'll tell you where to go."

On Michael in the character of charioteer (since this is
not intended to be a novel of adventure) it would be
superfluous to dwell at length. Pitman, as he sat hold-
ing on and gasping counsels, sole witness of this singu-
lar feat, knew not whether most to admire the driver's
valour or his undeserved good fortune. But the latter at
least prevailed, the cart reached Cannon Street without
disaster; and Mr. Brown's piano was speedily and clev-
erly got on board.

" Well, sir," said the leading porter, smiling as he
mentally reckoned up a handful of loose silver, "that's
a mortal heavy piano."

" It's the richness of the tone," returned Michael, as
he drove away.

It was but a little distance in the rain, which now fell
thick and quiet, to the neighbourhood of Mr. Gideon
Forsyth's chambers in the Temple. There, in a deserted
by-street, Michael drew up the horses and gave them in
charge to a blighted shoe-black ; and the pair descending
from the cart, whereon they had figured so incongru-
ously, set forth on foot for the decisive scene of their
adventure. For the first time, Michael displayed a
shadow of uneasiness.

" Are my whiskers right ? " he asked. " It would be
the devil and all if I was spotted."

"They are perfectly in their place," returned Pitman,
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with scant attention. " But is my disguise equally ef-
fective ? There is nothing more likely than that 1 should
meet some of my patrons."

"Oh, nobody could tell you without your beard,"
said Michael. " All you have to do is to remember to
speak slow; you speak through your nose already."

"I only hope the young man won't be at home,"
sighed Pitman.

"And I only hope he'll be alone," returned the law-
yer. " It will save a precious sight of manoeuvring."

And sure enough, when they had knocked at the door,
Gideon admitted them in person to a room, warmed by
a moderate fire, framed nearly to the roof in works con-
nected with the bench of British Themis, and offering,
except in one particular, eloquent testimony to the legal
zeal of the proprietor. The one particular was the
chimney-piece, which displayed a varied assortment of
pipes, tobacco, cigar-boxes, and yellow-backed French
novels.

" Mr. Forsyth, I believe ?" It was Michael who thus
opened the engagement "We have come to trouble
you with a piece of business. I fear it's scarcely pro-
fessional "

"lam afraid I ought to be instructed through a so-
licitor," replied Gideon.

" Well, well, you shall name your own, and the whole
affair can be put on a more regular footing to-morrow,"
replied Michael, taking a chair and motioning Pitman to
do the same. " But you see we didn't know any solicit-
ors; we did happen to know of you, and time presses."

"May I inquire, gentlemen," asked Gideon, "to
whom it was I am indebted for a recommendation ? "

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" You may inquire," returned the lawyer, with a fool-
ish laugh; "but I was invited not to tell you — till the
thing was done."

" My uncle, no doubt," was the barrister's conclusion.

" My name is John Dickson," continued Michael; "a
pretty well-known name in Ballarat; and my friend
here is Mr. Ezra Thomas, of the United States of
America, a wealthy manufacturer of India-rubber over-
shoes."

"Stop one moment till I make a note of that," said
Gideon; anyone might have supposed he was an old
practitioner.

" Perhaps you wouldn't mind my smoking a cigar ? "
asked Michael. He had pulled himself together for the
entrance; now again there began to settle on his mind
clouds of irresponsible humour and incipient slumber;
and he hoped (as so many have hoped in the like case)
that a cigar would clear him.

"Oh, certainly," cried Gideon, blandly. "Try one
of mine; I can confidently recommend them." And he
handed the box to his client.

"In case I don't make myself perfectly clear," ob-
served the Australian, "it's perhaps best to tell you
candidly that I've been lunching. It's a thing that may
happen to anyone."

"Oh, certainly," replied the affable barrister. " But
please be under no sense of hurry. I can give you," he
added, thoughtfully consulting his watch — "yes, lean
give you the whole afternoon."

"The business that brings me here," resumed the
Australian with gusto, " is devilish delicate, I can tell
you. My friend Mr. Thomas, being an American of

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Portuguese extraction, unacquainted with our habits,
and a wealthy manufacturer of Broadwood pianos "

" Broadwood pianos ? " cried Gideon, with some sur-
prise. " Dear me, do I understand Mr. Thomas to be a
member of the firm ?"

" Oh, pirated Broad woods," returned Michael. " My
friend's the American Broadwood."

" But I understood you to say," objected Gideon, " I
certainly have it so in my notes — that your friend was
a manufacturer of India-rubber overshoes."

"I know it's confusing at first," said the Australian,
with a beaming smile. "But he — in short, he com-
bines the two professions. And many others besides —
many, many, many others," repeated Mr. Dickson,
with drunken solemnity. " Mr. Thomas' cotton-mills
are one of the sights of Tallahassee; Mr. Thomas' to-
bacco-mills are the pride of Richmond, Va. ; in short,
he's one of my oldest friends, Mr. Forsyth, and I lay his
case before you with emotion."

The barrister looked at Mr. Thomas and was agree-
ably prepossessed by his open although nervous counte-
nance, and the simplicity and timidity of his manner.
"What a people are these Americans!" he thought
" Look at this nervous, weedy, simple little bird in a
low-necked shirt, and think of him wielding and direct-
ing interests so extended and seemingly incongruous!
But had we not better," he observed aloud, "had we
not perhaps better approach the facts ?"

" Man of business, I perceive, sir ! " said the Australian.
- * Let's approach the facts. It's a breach of promise case. "

The unhappy artist was so unprepared for this view of
his position that he could scarce suppress a cry.

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" Dear me," said Gideon, "they are apt to be very

troublesome. Tell me everything about it," he added,

kindly; "if you require my assistance, conceal noth-
ing »»
mg.

"You tell him," said Michael, feeling, apparently, that
he had done his share. " My friend will tell you all
about it, " he added to Gideon, with a yawn. " Excuse
my closing my eyes a moment; I've been sitting up
with a sick friend."

Pitman gazed blankly about the room; rage and de-
spair seethed in his innocent spirit; thoughts of flight,
thoughts even of suicide, came and went before him ;
and still the barrister patiently waited, and still the artist
groped in vain for any form of words, however insig-
nificant

" It's a breach of promise case," he said at last, in a
low voice. "I — I am threatened with a breach of
promise case." Here, in desperate quest of inspiration,
he made a clutch at his beard; his fingers closed upon
the unfamiliar smoothness of a shaven chin ; and with
that, hope and courage (if such expressions could ever
have been appropriate in the case of Pitman) conjointly
fled. He shook Michael roughly. "Wake up!" he
cried, with genuine irritation in his tones. "I cannot
do it, and you know I can't"

"You must excuse my friend," said Michael; "he's
no hand as a narrator of stirring incident. The case is
simple, " he went on. ' ' My friend is a man of very strong
passions, and accustomed to a simple, patriarchal style
of life. You see the thing from here: unfortunate visit
to Europe, followed by unfortunate acquaintance with
sham foreign count, who has a lovely daughter. Mr.

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Thomas was quite carried away; he proposed, he was
accepted, and he wrote — wrote in a style which I am
sure he must regret to-day. If these letters are produced
in court, sir, Mr. Thomas's character is gone."

" Am I to understand — " began Gideon.

" My dear sir," said the Australian, emphatically, " it
isn't possible to understand unless you saw them."

"That is a painful circumstance," said Gideon; he
glanced pityingly in the direction of the culprit, and ob-
serving on his countenance every mark of confusion,
pityingly withdrew his eyes.

" And that would be nothing," continued Mr. Dick-
son, sternly, " but I wish — I wish from my heart, sir, I
could say that Mr. Thomas' hands were clean. He
has no excuse ; for he was engaged at the time — and is
still engaged — to the belle of Constantinople, Ga. My
friend's conduct was unworthy of the brutes that perish. "

"Ga?" repeated Gideon, inquiringly.

"A contraction in current use," said Michael. "Ga
for Georgia, in the same way as Co for Company."

" I was aware it was sometimes so written," returned
the barrister, " but not that it was so pronounced."

" Fact, I assure you," said Michael. " You now see
for yourself, sir, that if this unhappy person is to be
saved, some devilish sharp practice will be needed.
There's money, and no desire to spare it. Mr. Thomas
could write a cheque to-morrow for a hundred thou-
sand. And, Mr. Forsyth, there's better than money. The
foreign count — Count Tarnow, he calls himself — was
formerly a tobacconist in Bayswater, and passed under
thehumble but expressive name of Schmidt ; his daughter
— if she is his daughter — there's another point — make a

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note of that, Mr. Forsyth — his daughter at that time
actually served in the shop — and she now proposes to
marry a man of the eminence of Mr. Thomas ! Now do
you see our game? We know they contemplate a
move; and we wish to forestall 'em. Down you go to
Hampton Court, where they live, and threaten, or bribe,
or both, until you get the letters; if you can't, God help
us, we must go to court and Thomas must be exposed.
I'll be done with him for one," added the unchivalrous
friend.

" There seem some elements of success," said Gideon.
"Was Schmidt at all known to the police?"

"We hope so," said Michael. "We have every
ground to think so. Mark the neighbourhood — Bays-
water 1 doesn't Bayswater occur to you as very sugges-
tive?"

For perhaps the sixth time during this remarkable
interview, Gideon wondered if he were not becoming
light-headed. " I suppose it's just because he has been
lunching," he thought; and then added aloud, "to what
figure may I go ? "

"Perhaps five thousand would be enough for to-day,"
said Michael. "And now, sir, do not let me detain you
any longer; the afternoon wears on ; there are plenty of
trains to Hampton Court; and I needn't try to describe
to you the impatience of my friend. Here is a five
pound note for current expenses; and here is the ad-
dress." And Michael began to write, paused, tore up
the paper, and put the pieces in his pocket. "I will
dictate," he said, " my writing is so uncertain."

Gideon took down the address, "Count Tarnow,
Kurnaul Villa, Hampton Court" Then he wrote some-

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thing else on a sheet of paper. " You said you had not
chosen a solicitor/' he said. " For a case of this sort,
here is the best man in London." And he handed the
paper to Michael.

"God bless mel " ejaculated Michael, as he read his
own address.

"Oh, I dare say you have seen his name connected
with some rather painful cases," said Gideon. " But he
is himself a perfectly honest man and his capacity is
recognised. And now, gentlemen, it only remains for
me to ask where I shall communicate with you."

1 ' The Langham, of course, " returned Michael. ■ ' Till
to-night."

' ' Till to-night, " replied Gideon, smiling. • • I suppose
I may knock you up at a late hour?"

"Any hour, any hour," cried the vanishing solicitor.

"Now there's a young fellow with a head upon his
shoulders," he said to Pitman, as soon as they were in
the street.

Pitman was indistinctly heard to murmur, "Perfect
fool."

"Not a bit of him," returned Michael. " He knows
who's the best solicitor in London, and it's not every
man can say the same. But, I say, didn't I pitch it in
hot?"

Pitman returned no answer.

"Hullo!" said the lawyer, pausing, "what's wrong
with the long-suffering Pitman ? "

" You had no right to speak of me as you did," the
artist broke out; "your language was perfectly unjusti-
fiable; you have wounded me deeply."

"I never said a word about you," replied Michael.

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"I spoke of Ezra Thomas; and do please remember that
there's no such party."

"It's just as hard to bear," said the artist.

But by this time they had reached the corner of the
by-street; and there was the faithful shoeblack, stand-
ing by the horses' heads with a splendid assumption of
dignity; and there was the piano, pricking forlorn upon
the cart, while the rain beat upon its unprotected sides
and trickled down its elegantly varnished legs.

The shoeblack was again put in requisition to bring
five or six strong fellows from the neighbouring public-
house; and the last battle of the campaign opened. It
is probable that Mr. Gideon Forsyth had not yet taken
his seat in the train for Hampton Court, before Michael
opened the door of the chambers, and the grunting por-
ters deposited the Broadwood grand in the middle of the
floor.

"And now," said the lawyer, after he had sent the
men about their business, " one more precaution. We
must leave him the key of the piano, and we must con-
trive that he shall find it. Let me see." And he built
a square tower of cigars upon the top of the instrument,
and dropped the key into the middle.

" Poor young man," said the artist, as they descended
the stairs.

"He is in a devil of a position," assented Michael,
dryly. " It'll brace him up."

"And that reminds me," observed the excellent Pit-
man, "that I fear I displayed a most ungrateful temper.
I had no right, I see, to resent expressions, wounding
as they were, which were in no sense directed."

"That's all right," cried Michael, getting on the cart.

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4 'Not a word more, Pitman. Very proper feeling on
your part; no man of self-respect can stand by and hear
his alias insulted."

The rain had now ceased, Michael was fairly sober,
the body had been disposed of, and the friends were
reconciled. The return to the mews was therefore (in
comparison with previous stages of the day's adven-
tures) quite a holiday outing; and when they had re-
turned the cart and walked forth again from the stable-
yard, unchallenged and even unsuspected, Pitman drew
a deep breath of joy.

"And now," he s^id, "we can go home."

"Pitman," said the lawyer, stopping short, "your
recklessness fills me with concern. What! we have
been wet through the greater part of the day, and you
propose, in cold blood, to go home! No, sir — hot
Scotch."

And taking his friend's arm he led him sternly toward
the nearest public-house. Nor was Pitman (I regret to
say) wholly unwilling. Now that peace was restored
and the body gone, a certain innocent skittishness be-
gan to appear in the manners of the artist ; and when
he touched his steaming glass to Michael's, he giggled
aloud like a venturesome school-girl at a picnic.

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CHAPTER IX

GLORIOUS CONCLUSION OF MICHAEL FMSBURY'S HOLIDAY

I know Michael Finsbury personally; my business —
I know the awkwardness of having such a man for a
lawyer — still it's an old story now, and there is such a
thing as gratitude, and, in short, my legal business, al-
though now (I am thankful to say) of quite a placid
character, remains entirely in Michael's hands. But the
trouble is 1 have no natural talent for addresses; I learn
one for every man — that is friendship's offering; and
the friend who subsequently changes his residence is
dead to me, memory refusing to pursue him. Thus it
comes about that, as I always write to Michael at his
office, 1 cannot swear to his number in the King's Road.
Of course (like my neighbours), I have been to dinner
there. Of late years, since his accession to wealth, neg-
lect of business, and election to the club, these little
festivals have become common. He picks up a few
fellows in the smoking-room — all men of Attic wit —
myself, for instance, if he has the luck to find me disen-
gaged ; a string of hansoms may be observed (by her
Majesty) bowling gaily through St James's Park; and
in a quarter of an hour the party surrounds one of the
best appointed boards in London.

But at the time of which we write the house in the
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King's Road (let us still continue to call it No. 233) was
kept very quiet; when Michael entertained guests it
was at the halls of Nichol or Verrey that he would con-
vene them, and the door of his private residence re-
mained closed against his friends. The upper storey,
which was sunny, was set apart for his father; the
drawing-room was never opened ; the dining-room was
the scene of Michael's life. It is in this pleasant apart-
ment, sheltered from the curiosity of King's Road by
wire blinds, and entirely surrounded by the lawyer's un-
rivalled library of poetry and criminal trials, that we find
him sitting down to his dinner after his holiday with
Pitman. A spare old lady, with very bright eyes and a
mouth humorously compressed, waited upon the law-
yer's needs ; in every line of her countenance she be-
trayed the fact that she was an old retainer; in every
word that fell from her lips she flaunted the glorious
circumstance of a Scottish origin; and the fear with
which this powerful combination fills the boldest was
obviously no stranger to the bosom of our friend. The
hot Scotch having somewhat warmed up the embers
of the Heidsieck, it was touching to observe the mas-
ter's eagerness to pull himself together under the ser-
vant's eye; and when he remarked: "I think, Teena,
I'll take a brandy and soda," he spoke like a man doubt-
ful of his elocution, and not half certain of obedience.

"No such a thing, Mr. Michael," was the prompt re-
turn. ' ' Clar't and water. "

" Well, well, Teena, I daresay you know best," said
the master. " Very fatiguing day at the office, though. "

" What ? " said the retainer, M ye never were near the
office!"

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GLORIOUS CONCLUSION OF MICHAEL FINSBURY'S HOLIDAY

" Oh, yes, I was though ; I was repeatedly along Fleet
Street," returned Michael.

"Pretty pliskies ye've been at this day!" cried the
old lady, with humorous alacrity; and then: "Take
care — don't break my crystal 1 " she cried, as the law-
yer came within an ace of knocking the glasses off the
table.

"And how is he keeping?" asked Michael.

"Oh, just the same, Mr. Michael, just the way he'll
be till the end, worthy man!" was the reply. "But
ye'll not be the first that's asked me that the day."

" No ? " said the lawyer. "Who else ? "

"Ay, that's a joke, too," said Teena, grimly. "A
friend of yours: Mr. Morris."

" Morris! What was the little beggar doing here ?"
inquired Michael.

" Wantin' ? To see him," replied the housekeeper,
completing her meaning by a movement of the thumb
toward the upper story. " That's by his way of it ; but
I've an idee of my own. He tried to bribe me, Mr.
Michael. Bribe — me!" she repeated, with inimitable
scorn. " That's no kind of a young gentleman."

" Did he so ? " said Michael. " I bet he didn't offer
much."

"No more he did," replied Teena; nor could any
subsequent questioning elicit from her the sum with
which the thrifty leather merchant had attempted to
corrupt her. " But I sent him about his business," she
said, gallantly. " He'll not come here again in a hurry."

"He mustn't see my father, you know; mind
that!" said Michael. " I'm not going to have any pub-
lic exhibition to a little beast like him."

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"No fear of me lettin' him/' replied the trusty one*
" But the joke is this, Mr. Michael — see, ye're upsettin'
the sauce, that's a clean table-cloth — the best of the
joke is that he thinks your father's dead and you're keep-
in' it dark."

Michael whistled. • ' Set a thief to catch a thief, " said
he.

" Exac'ly what I told him ! " cried the delighted dame.

" I'll make him dance for that," said Michael.

"Couldn't ye get the law of him some way?" sug-
gested Teena, truculently.

"No, I don't think I could, and I'm quite sure I don't
want to," replied Michael. " But I say, Teena, I really
don't believe this claret's wholesome; it's not a sound,
reliable wine. Give us a brandy and soda, there's a
good soul." Teena's face became like adamant "Well,
then," said the lawyer, fretfully, " I won't eat any more
dinner."

"Ye can please yourself about that, Mr. Michael,"
said Teena, and began composedly to take away.

" I do wish Teena wasn't a faithful servant! " sighed
the lawyer, as he issued into King's Road.

The rain had ceased; the wind still blew, but only
with a pleasant freshness; the town, in the clear dark-
ness of the night, glittered with street-lamps and shone
with glancing rain-pools. "Come, this is better,"
thought the lawyer to himself, and he walked on east-
ward, lending a pleased ear to the wheels and the mil-
lion footfalls of the city.

Near the end of the King's Road he remembered his
brandy and soda, and entered a flaunting public house.
A good many persons were present, a waterman from

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GLORIOUS CONCLUSION OF MICHAEL FINSBURY'S HOLIDAY

a cab-stand, half a dozen of the chronically unemployed,
a gentleman (in one corner) trying to sell aesthetic pho-
tographs out of a leather case to another and very youth-
ful gentleman with a yellow goatee, and a pair of lovers
debating some fine shade, in the other. But the centre-
piece and great attraction was a little old man, in a black,
ready-made surtout, which was obviously a recent pur-
chase. On the marble table in front of him, beside a
sandwich and a glass of beer, there lay a battered for-
age cap. His hand fluttered abroad with oratorical ges-
tures; his voice, naturally shrill, was plainly tuned to
the pitch of the lecture-room ; and by arts, comparable
to those of the Ancient Mariner, he was now holding
spellbound the barmaid, the waterman, and four of the
unemployed.

" I have examined all the theatres in London," he was
saying; "and pacing the principal entrances, I have as-
certained them to be ridiculously disproportionate to the
requirements of their audiences. The doors opened the
wrong way — I forget at this moment which it is, but
have a note of it at home; they were frequently locked
during the performance, and when the auditorium was
literally thronged with English people. You have prob-
ably not had my opportunities of comparing distant
lands; but I can assure you this has been long ago rec-
ognised as a mark of aristocratic government Do you
suppose, in a country really self-governed, such abuses
could exist ? Your own intelligence, however unculti-
vated, tells you they could not. Take Austria, a country
even possibly more enslaved than England. I have my-
self conversed with one of the survivors of the Ring
Theatre, and though his colloquial German was not very

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is because I cannot endure those nephews of mine. I
find them intolerable."

"I dare say you do," assented Michael, "I never
could stand them for a moment."

"They wouldn't let me speak/' continued the old
gentleman, bitterly; "I never was allowed to get a
word in edgewise; I was shut up at once with some
impertinent remark. They kept me on short allowance
of pencils, when I wished to make notes of the most
absorbing interest; the daily newspaper was guarded
from me like a young baby from a gorilla. Now, you
know me, Michael. I live for my calculations; I live
for my manifold and ever-changing views of life; pens
and paper and the productions of the popular press are
to me as important as food and drink; and my life was
growing quite intolerable when, in the confusion of
that fortunate railway accident at Browndean, I made
my escape. They must think me dead, and are trying
to deceive the world for the chance of the tontine."

" By the way, how do you stand for money P" asked
Michael, kindly.

"Pecuniarily speaking, I am rich," returned the old
man, with cheerfulness. " I am living at present at the
rate of one hundred a year, with unlimited pens and
paper; the British Museum at which to get books; and
all the newspapers I choose to read. But it's extraor-
dinary how little a man of intellectual interest requires to
bother with books in a progressive age. The news-
papers supply all the conclusions."

"I'll tell you what," said Michael, "come and stay
with me."

"Michael," said the old gentleman, "it's very kind

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of you, but you scarcely understand what a peculiar
position I occupy. There are some little financial com-
plications; as a guardian my efforts were not altogether
blessed; and not to put too fine a point upon the mat-
ter, I am absolutely in the power of that vile fellow,
Morris."

"You should be disguised," cried Michael, eagerly.
"I will lend you a pair of window-glass spectacles, and
some red side- whiskers."

"I had already canvassed that idea," replied the
old gentleman, "but feared to awaken remark in my
unpretentious lodgings. The aristocracy, I am well
aware "

"But see here," interrupted Michael, "how do you
come to have any money at all ? Don't make a stranger
of me, Uncle Joseph ; I know all about the trust, and
the hash you made of it, and the assignment you were
forced to make to Morris."

Joseph narrated his dealings with the bank.

"Oh, but I say, this won't do," cried the lawyer.
"You've put your foot in it You had no right to do
what you did."

"The whole thing is mine, Michael," protested the
old gentleman. "1 founded and nursed that business
on principles entirely of my own."

"That's all very fine," said the lawyer; "but you
made an assignment, you were forced to make it, too;
even then your position was extremely shaky ; but now,
my dear sir, it means the dock."

1 ' It isn't possible, " cried Joseph ; "the law cannot be
so unjust as that?"

"And the cream of the thing," interrupted Michael,

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with a sudden shout of laughter, "the cream of the
thing is this, that of course you've downed the leather
business ! I must say, Uncle Joseph, you have strange
ideas of law, but I like your taste in humour/'

" I see nothing to laugh at," observed Mr. Finsbury,
tartly.

" And talking of that, has Morris any power to sign
for the firm?" asked Michael.

"No one but myself," replied Joseph.

' ' Poor devil of a Morris. Oh, poor devil of a Morris ! "
cried the lawyer in delight " And his keeping up the
farce that you're at home! Oh, Morris, the Lord has
delivered you into my hands! Let me see, Uncle
Joseph, what do you suppose the leather business
worth?"

"It was worth a hundred thousand," said Joseph,
bitterly, "when it was in my hands. But then there
came a Scotchman — it is supposed he had a certain
talent — it was entirely directed to book-keeping — no
accountant in London could understand a word of any
of his books; and then there was Morris, who is per-
fectly incompetent And now it is worth very little.
Morris tried to sell it last year; and Pogram & Jarris
offered only four thousand."

"I shall turn my attention to leather," said Michael
with decision.

" You ? " asked Joseph. " I advise you not There
is nothing in the whole field of commerce more surpris-
ing than the fluctuations of the leather market Its sen-
sitiveness may be described as morbid."

" And now, Uncle Joseph, what have you done with
all that money ? " asked the lawyer.

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"Paid it into a bank and drew twenty pounds/' an-
swered Mr. Finsbury promptly. " Why ? "

"Very well," said Michael. "To-morrow I shall
send down a clerk with a cheque for a hundred, and he'll
draw out the original sum and return it to the Anglo-
Patagonian, with some sort of explanation which I will
try to invent for you. That will clear your feet, and as
Morris can't touch a penny of it without forgery, it will
do no harm to my little scheme."

" But what am I to do?" asked Joseph, "I cannot
live upon nothing."

" Don't you hear ? " returned Michael. " I send you
a cheque for a hundred ; which leaves you eighty to go
along upon; and when that's done, apply to me again."

"1 would rather not be beholden to your bounty all
the same," said Joseph, biting at his white moustache.
" I would rather live on my own money, since I have it."

Michael grasped his arm. "Will nothing make you
believe," he cried, "that I am trying to save you from
Dartmoor ? "

His earnestness staggered the old man. "I must
turn my attention to law," he said; "it will be a new
field ; for though of course I understand its general prin-
ciples, I have never really applied my mind to the details,
and this view of yours, for example, comes on me en-
tirely by surprise. But you may be right, and of course
at my time of life — for I am no longer young — any
really long term of imprisonment would be highly preju-
dicial. But, my dear nephew, I have no claim on you;
you have no call to support me."

"That's all right," said Michael; " I'll probably get it
out of the leather business."

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And having taken down the old gentleman's address,
Michael left him at the corner of a street

" What a wonderful old muddler! " he reflected, " and
what a singular thing is life ! I seem to be condemned
to be the instrument of Providence. Let me see; what
have I done to-day ? Disposed of a dead body, saved
Pitman, saved my Uncle Joseph, brightened up Forsyth,
and drunk a devil of a lot of most indifferent liquor.
Let's top off with a visit to my cousins, and be the in-
strument of Providence in earnest To-morrow I can
turn my attention to leather; to-night, I'll just make it
lively for 'em in a friendly spirit."

About a quarter of an hour later, as the clocks were
striking eleven, the instrument of Providence descended
from a hansom, and bidding the driver wait, rapped at
the door of No. 16 John Street

It was promptly opened by Morris.

"Oh, it's you, Michael," he said, carefully blocking up
the narrow opening: "it's very late."

Michael without a word reached forth, grasped Morris
warmly by the hand, and gave it so extreme a squeeze
that the sullen householder fell back. Profiting by this
movement, the lawyer obtained a footing in the lobby
and marched into the dining-room, with Morris at his
heels.

"Where's my Uncle Joseph?" demanded Michael,
sitting down in the most comfortable chair.

"He's not been very well lately," replied Morris;
"he's staying at Browndean; John is nursing him; and
I am alone, as you see."

Michael smiled to himself. "I want to see him on
particular business," he said.

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" You can't expect to see my uncle, when you won't
let me see your father," returned Morris.

"Fiddlestick," said Michael. "My father is my
father; but Joseph is just as much my uncle as he's
yours; and you have no right to sequestrate his person."

" I do no such thing," said Morris, doggedly. " He
is not well; he is dangerously ill and nobody can see
him."

" I'll tell you what, then," said Michael. " I'll make
a clean breast of it I have come down like the opos-
sum, Morris; I have come to compromise."

Poor Morris turned as pale as death, and then a flush
of wrath against the injustice of man's destiny dyed his
very temples. "What do you mean?" he cried. "I
don't believe a word of it!" And when Michael had
assured him of his seriousness, "Well, then," he cried,
with another deep flush, " I won't; so you can put that
in your pipe and smoke it"

"Oho 1 " said Michael, queerly. " You say your uncle
is dangerously ill, and you won't compromise ? There's
something very fishy about that"

" What do you mean ?" cried Morris, hoarsely.

"I only say it's fishy," returned Michael, "that is,
pertaining to the finny tribe."

" Do you mean to insinuate anything ? " cried Morris,
stormily, trying the high hand.

"Insinuate?" repeated Michael. "Oh, don't let's
begin to use awkward expressions! Let us drown our
differences in a bottle, like two affable kinsmen. The
Two Affable Kinsmen, sometimes attributed to Shake-
speare," he added.

Morris' mind was labouring like a mill. "Does he
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suspect ? or is this chance and stuff? Should I soap, or
should I bully ? Soap, " he concluded. ' ' It gains time.
Well, " said he aloud, and with rather a painful affectation
of heartiness, "it's long since we have had an evening
together, Michael ; and though my habits (as you know)
are very temperate, I may as well make an exception.
Excuse me one moment, till I fetch a bottle of whisky
from the cellar."

"No whisky for me," said Michael; " a little of the
old still champagne or nothing."

For a moment Morris stood irresolute, for the wine
was very valuable; the next he had quitted the room
without a word. His quick mind had perceived his
advantage; in thus dunning him for the cream of the
cellar, Michael was playing into his hand. "One bot-
tle ? " he thought. " By George, I'll give him two! this
is no moment for economy ; and once the beast is drunk,
it's strange if I don't wring his secret out of him."

With two bottles, accordingly, he returned. Glasses
were produced, and Morris filled them with hospitable
grace.

"I drink to you, cousin!" he cried, gayly. "Don't
spare the wine-cup in my house."

Michael drank his glass deliberately, standing at the
table; filled it again, and returned to his chair, carrying
the bottle along with him.

' ' The spoils of war ! " he said, apologetically. "The
weakest goes to the wall. Science, Morris, science."
Morris could think of no reply, and for an appreciable
interval silence reigned. But two glasses of the still
champagne produced a rapid change in Michael.

"There's a want of vivacity about you, Morris," he
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GLORIOUS CONCLUSION OF MICHAEL FINSBURY'S HOLIDAY

observed. "You may be deep; but I'll be hanged if
you're vivacious 1"

"What makes you think me deep?" asked Morris,
with an air of pleased simplicity.

" Because you won't compromise," said the lawyer.
"You're deep dog, Morris, very deep dog, not t' com-
promise — remarkable deep dog. And a very good
glass of wine; it's the only respectable feature in the
Finsbury family, this wine; rarer thing than a title —
much rarer. Now, a man with glass wine like this in
cellar, I wonder why won't compromise?"

" Well,^(W wouldn' compromise before, you know,"
said the smiling Morris. " Turn about is fair play."

" I wonder why / wouldn' compromise ? I wonder
why you wouldn'?" inquired Michael. "I wonder
why we each think the other wouldn' ? 'S quite a re-
marrable — remarkable problem," he added, triumph-
ing over oral obstacles, not without obvious pride.
" Wonder what we each think — don't you ? "

"What do you suppose to have been my reason ?"
asked Morris, adroitly.

Michael looked at him and winked. "Tha's cool,"
said he. "Next thing, you'll ask me to help you out
of the muddle. I know I'm emissary of Providence,
but not that kind 1 You get out of it yourself, like -dEsop
and the other fellow. Must be dreadful muddle for
young orphan o' forty; leather business and all!"

" I am sure I don't know what you mean," said Morris.

' ' Not sure I know myself, " said Michael. ' ' This is ex-
c'lent vintage, sir — exc'lent vintage. Nothing against the
tipple. Only thing; here's a valuable uncle disappeared.
Now, what I want to know: where's valuable uncle ?"

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The man read it by the light of the lamp. " Mr. Mi-
chael Finsbury, 2)) King's Road, Chelsea. Is that it,
sir?"

" Right you are/ 9 cried Michael " drive there if you
can see way."

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CHAPTER X

GIDEON FORSYTH AND THE BROADWOOD GRAND

The reader has perhaps read that remarkable work,
Who Put Back the Clock ? by E. H. B., which appeared
for several days upon the railway bookstalls and then
vanished entirely from the face of the earth. Whether
eating Time makes the chief of his diet out of old edi-
tions; whether Providence has passed a special enact-
ment on behalf of authors; or whether these last have
taken the law into their own hand, bound themselves
into a dark conspiracy with a password, which I would
die rather than reveal, and night after night sally forth
under some vigorous leader, such as Mr. James Payn or
Mr. Walter Besant, on their task of secret spoliation — cer-
tain it is, at least, that the old editions pass, giving place
to new. To the proof, it is believed there are now only
three copies extant of Who Put Back the Clock ? one in
the British Museum, successfully concealed by a wrong
entry in the catalogue; another in one of the cellars
(the cellar where the music accumulates) of the Advo-
cates' Library in Edinburgh; and a third, bound in mo-
rocco, in the possession of Gideon Forsyth. To account
for the very different fate attending this third exemplar,
the readiest theory is to suppose that Gideon admired
the tale. How to explain that admiration might ap-

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pear (to those who have perused the work) more diffi-
cult; but the weakness of a parent is extreme, and
Gideon (and not his uncle, whose initials he had humor-
ously borrowed) was the author of Who Put Bach the
Clock ? He had never acknowledged it, or only to some
intimate friends while it was still in proof; after its ap-
pearance and alarming failure, the modesty of the nov-
elist had become more pressing, and the secret was now
likely to be better kept than that of the authorship of
IVaverley.

A copy of the work (for the date of my tale is already
yesterday) still figured in dusty solitude in the bookstall
at Waterloo; and Gideon, as he passed with his ticket
for Hampton Court, smiled contemptuously at the crea-
ture of his thoughts. What an idle ambition was the
author's 1 How far beneath him was the practice of that
childish art! With his hand closing on his first brief,
he felt himself a man at last; and the muse who presides
over the police romance, a lady presumably of French
extraction, fled his neighbourhood, and returned to join
the dance round the springs of Helicon, among her
Grecian sisters.

Robust, practical reflection still cheered the young
barrister upon his journey. Again and again he se-
lected the little country house in its islet of great oaks,
which he was to make his future home. Like a pru-
dent householder, he projected improvements as he
passed; to one he added a stable, to another a tennis
court, a third he supplied with a becoming, rustic boat-
house.

"How little a while ago," he could not but reflect,
"I was a careless young dog with no thought but to

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be comfortable! I cared for nothing but boating and
detective novels. I would have passed an old-fashioned
country house with large kitchen-garden, stabling, boat-
house, and spacious offices, without so much as a look,
and certainly would have made no inquiry as to the
drains. How a man ripens with the years! "

The intelligent reader will perceive the ravages of
Miss Hazeltine. Gideon had carried Julia straight to
Mr. BJoomfield's house; and that gentleman, having
been led to understand she was the victim of oppression,
had noisily espoused her cause. He worked himself
into a fine breathing heat; in which, to a man of his
temperament, action became needful.

" I do not know which is the worse," he cried, " the
fraudulent old villain or the unmanly young cub. I
will write to the Pall Mall and expose them. Nonsense,
sir; they must be exposed! It's a public duty. Did
you not tell me the fellow was a tory ? Oh, the uncle
is a radical lecturer, is he ? No doubt, the uncle has
been grossly wronged. But of course, as you say,
that makes a change; it becomes scarce so much a
public duty."

And he sought and instantly found a fresh outlet for
his alacrity. Miss Hazeltine (he now perceived) must
be kept out of the way ; his houseboat was lying ready
— he had returned but a day or two before from his
usual cruise; there was no place like a houseboat for
concealment; and that very morning, in the teeth of the
easterly gale, Mr. and Mrs. Bloomfield and Miss Julia
Hazeltine had started forth on their untimely voyage.
Gideon pled in vain to be allowed to join the party.
"No, Gid," said his uncle. "You will be watched;

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you must keep away from us." Nor had the barrister
ventured to contest this strange illusion; for he feared
if he rubbed off any of the romance, that Mr. Bloom-
field might weary of the whole affair. And his dis-
cretion was rewarded; for the Squirradical, laying a
heavy hand upon his nephew's shoulder, had added
these notable expressions: "I see what you are after,
Gid. But if you're going to get the girl, you have to
work, sir."

These pleasing sounds had cheered the barrister all
day, as he sat reading in chambers; they continued to
form the ground-base of his manly musings as he was
whirled to Hampton Court; even when he landed at the
station, and began to pull himself together for his delicate
interview, the voice of Uncle Ned and the eyes of Julia
were not forgotten.

But now it began to rain surprises: in all Hampton
Court, there was no Kurnaul Villa, no Count Tarnow,
and no count This was strange; but viewed in the
light of the incoherency of his instructions, not perhaps
inexplicable; Mr. Dickson had been lunching, and he
might have made some fatal oversight in the address.
What was the thoroughly prompt, manly, and busi-
ness-like step ? thought Gideon ; and he answered him-
self at once: "A telegram, very laconic." Speedily, the
wires were flashing the following very important mis-
sive: "Dickson, Langham Hotel. Villa and persons
both unknown here, suppose erroneous address; follow
self next train. Forsyth." And at the Langham Hotel,
sure enough, with a brow expressive of despatch and
intellectual effort, Gideon descended not long after from
a smoking hansom.

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GIDEON FORSYTH AND THE BROADWOOD GRAND

I do not suppose that Gideon will ever forget the
Langham Hotel. No Count Tarnow was one thing; no
John Dickson and no Ezra Thomas, quite another.
How, why, and what next, danced in his bewildered
brain ; from every centre of what we playfully call the
human intellect, incongruous messages were tele-
graphed; and before the hubbub of dismay had quite
subsided, the barrister found himself driving furiously
for his chambers. There was at least a cave of refuge;
it was at least a place to think in ; and he climbed the
stair, put his key in the lock and opened the door, with
some approach to hope.

It was all dark within, for the night had some time
fallen ; but Gideon knew his room, he knew where the
matches stood on the end of the chimney piece; and he
advanced boldly, and in so doing dashed himself against
a heavy body, where (slightly altering the expressions of
the song) no heavy body should have been. There had
been nothing there when Gideon went out, he had locked
the door behind him, he had found it locked on his re-
turn, no one could have entered, the furniture could not
have changed its own position. And yet undeniably
there was a something there. He thrust out his hands
in the darkness. Yes, there was something, something
large, something smooth, something cold.

''Heaven forgive me!" said Gideon, "it feels like a
piano."

And the next moment he remembered the vestas in
his waistcoat pocket and had struck a light

It was indeed a piano that met his doubtful gaze; a
vast and costly instrument, stained with the rains of the
afternoon and defaced with recent scratches. The light

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of the vesta was reflected from the varnished sides, like
a star in quiet water; and in the farther end of the room,
the shadow of that strange visitor loomed bulkily and
wavered on the wall.

Gideon let the match burn to his fingers, and the
darkness close once more on his bewilderment. Then
with trembling hands he lit the lamp and drew near.
Near or far, there was no doubt of the fact: the thing
was a piano. There, where by all the laws of God
and man it was impossible that it should be — there the
thing impudently stood. Gideon threw open the key-
board and struck a chord. Not a sound disturbed the
quiet of the room. " Is there anything wrong with me ? "
he thought, with a pang; and drawing in a seat, obsti-
nately persisted in his attempts to ravish silence, now
with sparkling arpeggios, now with a sonata of Bee-
thoven's which (in happier days) he knew to be one of
the loudest pieces of that powerful composer. Still not
a sound. He gave the Broad wood two great bangs with
his clenched fists. All was still as the grave.

The young barrister started to his feet.

" 1 am stark-staring mad," he cried aloud, "and no one
knows it but myself. God's worst curse has fallen on me. "

His fingers encountered his watch-chain; instantly he
had plucked forth his watch and held it to his ear. He
could hear it ticking.

" I am not deaf," he said aloud. " I am only insane.
My mind has quitted me forever."

He looked uneasily about the room, and gazed with
lack-lustre eyes at the chair in which Mr. Dickson had
installed himself. The end of a cigar lay near it on the
fender.

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GIDEON FORSYTH AND THE BROADWOOD GRAND

"No, " he thought, " I don't believe that was a dream ;
but God knows my mind is failing rapidly. I seem to be
hungry, for instance; it's probably another hallucination.
Still I might try. I shall have one more good meal; I
shall go to the Cafe Royal, and may possibly be removed
from there direct to the asylum."

He wondered with morbid interest, as he descended
the stairs, how he would first betray his terrible condi-
tion — would he attack a waiter? or eat glass? — and
when he had mounted into a cab, he bade the man
drive to Nichol's with a lurking fear that there was no
such place.

The flaring, gassy entrance of the cafe speedily set his
mind at rest; he was cheered besides to recognise his
favourite waiter; his orders appeared to be coherent; the
dinner, when it came, was quite a sensible meal, and
he ate it with enjoyment "Upon my word," he re-
flected, " I am about tempted to indulge a hope. Have
I been hasty ? Have 1 done what Robert Skill would
have done ? " Robert Skill (I need scarcely mention)
was the name of the principal character in Who Put
Bach the Clock? It had occurred to the author as a
brilliant and probable invention ; to readers of a critical
turn, Robert appeared scarce upon a level with his sur-
name; but it is the difficulty of the police romance, that
the reader is always a man of such vastly greater inge-
nuity than the writer. In the eyes of his creator, how-
ever, Robert Skill was a word to conjure with; the
thought braced and spurred him; what that brilliant
creature would have done, Gideon would do also. This
frame of mind is not uncommon : the distressed general,
the baited divine, the hesitating author, decide severally

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to do what Napoleon, what St Paul, what Shakespeare
would have done; and there remains only the minor
question, What is that ? In Gideon's case, one thing
was clear: Skill was a man of singular decision, he
would have taken some step (whatever it was) at once ;
and the only step that Gideon could think of was to re-
turn to his chambers.

This being achieved, all further inspiration failed him,
and he stood pitifully staring at the instrument of his
confusion. To touch the keys again was more than he
durst venture on ; whether they had maintained their
former silence, or responded with the tones of the last
trump, it would have equally dethroned his resolution.
"It may be a practical jest," he reflected, "though it
seems elaborate and costly. And yet what else can it
be ? It must be a practical jest " And just then his eye
fell upon a feature which seemed corroborative of that
view; The pagoda of cigars which Michael had erected
ere he left the chambers. "Why that?" reflected
Gideon. ' ' It seems entirely irresponsible. " And draw-
ing near, he gingerly demolished it. "A key," he
thought "Why that? And why so conspicuously
placed?" He made the circuit of the instrument, and
perceived the keyhole at the back. " Aha ! this is what
the key is for," said he. " They wanted me to look in-
side. Stranger and stranger." And with that, he
turned the key and raised the lid.

In what antics of agony, in what fits of flighty resolu-
tion, in what collapses of despair, Gideon consumed
the night, it would be ungenerous to inquire too closely.

That trill of tiny song with which the eaves-birds of
London welcome the approach of day, found him limp

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GIDEON FORSYTH AND THE BROADWOOD GRAND

and rumpled and bloodshot, and with a mind still va-
cant of resource. He rose and looked forth unrejoicingly
on blinded windows, an empty street, and the grey day-
light dotted with the yellow lamps. There are morn-
ings when the city seems to awake with a sick head-
ache; this was one of them; and still the twittering re-
veille of the sparrows stirred in Gideon's spirit.

" Day here," he thought, " and I still helpless! This
must come to an end." And he locked up the piano,
put the key in his pocket, and set forth in quest of coffee.
As he went, his mind trudged for the hundredth time a
certain mill-road of terrors, misgivings, and regrets. To
call in the police, to give up the body, to cover London
with handbills describing John Dickson and Ezra
Thomas, to fill the papers with paragraphs, Mysterious
Occurrence in the Temple — M r. Forsyth admitted to bail,
this was one course, an easy course, a safe course ; but
not, the more he reflected on it, not a pleasant one.
For, was it not to publish abroad a number of singular
facts about himself ? A child ought to have seen through
the story of these adventures, and he had gaped and
swallowed it A barrister of the least self-respect should
have refused to listen to clients who came before him in
a manner so irregular, and he had listened. And oh,
if he had only listened; but he had gone upon their
errand — he, a barrister, uninstructed even by the
shadow of a solicitor — upon an errand fit only for a
private detective; and alas! — and for the hundredth
time, the blood surged to his brow — he had taken their
money! "No," said he, "the thing is as plain as St.
Paul's. I shall be dishonoured! I have smashed my
career for a five-pound note."

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Between the possibility of being hanged in all inno-
cence, and the certainty of a public and merited disgrace,
no gentleman of spirit could long hesitate. After three
gulps of that hot, snuffy, and muddy beverage, that
passes on the streets of London for a decoction of the
coffee berry, Gideon's mind was made up. He would
do without the police. He must face the other side of
the dilemma, and be Robert Skill in earnest. What
would Robert Skill have done ? How does a gentleman
dispose of a dead body, honestly come by ? He remem-
bered the inimitable story of the hunchback; reviewed
its course, and dismissed it for a worthless guide. It
was impossible to prop a corpse on the corner of Totten-
ham Court Road, without arousing fatal curiosity in the
bosoms of the passers by; as for lowering it down a
London chimney, the physical obstacles were insur-
mountable. To get it on board a train and drop it out,
or on the top of an omnibus and drop it off, were equally
out of the question. To get it on a yacht and drop it
overboard, was more conceivable; but for a man of
moderate means, it seemed extravagant. The hire of
the yacht was in itself a consideration ; the subsequent
support of the whole crew (which seemed a necessary
consequence) was simply not to be thought of. His
uncle and the houseboat here occurred in very luminous
colours to his mind. A musical composer (say, of the
name of Jimson) might very well suffer, like Hogarth's
musician before him, from the disturbances of London.
He might very well be pressed for time to finish an
opera — say the comic opera Orange Pekoe — Orange
Pekoe, music by Jimson — " this young maestro, one of
the most promising of our recent English school " — vig-

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orous entrance of the drums, etc. — the whole character
of Jimson and his music arose in bulk before the mind
of Gideon. What more likely than Jimson's arrival
with a grand piano (say, at Padwick), and his residence
in a houseboat alone with the unfinished score of Orange
Pekoe? His subsequent disappearance, leaving noth-
ing behind but an empty piano case, it might be more
difficult to account for. And yet even that was sus-
ceptible of explanation. For, suppose Jimson had gone
mad over a fugal passage, and had thereupon destroyed
the accomplice of his infamy, and plunged into the wel-
come river ? What end, on the whole, more probable
for a modern musician ?

" By jove, I'll do it," cried Gideon. "Jimson is the
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the abhorred interior; the key cried among the wards like
a thing in pain ; the sitting-room was deep in dust, and
smelt strong of bilge-water. It could not be called a
cheerful spot, even for a composer absorbed in beloved
toil ; how much less for a young gentleman, haunted by
alarms and awaiting the arrival of a corpse!

He sat down, cleared away a piece of the table, and
attacked the cold luncheon in his basket In case of
any subsequent inquiry into the fate of Jimson, it was
desirable he should be little seen; in other words,
that he should spend the day entirely in the house; to
this end, and further to corroborate his fable, he had
brought in the leather case not only writing materials,
but a ream of large-size music paper, such as he con-
sidered suitable for an ambitious character like Jimson's.

" And now to work," said he, when he had satisfied
his appetite. " We must leave traces of the wretched
man's activity." And he wrote in bold characters:

ORANGE PEKOE

Op. 17

J. B. JIMSON

Vocal and p. /. score

"I suppose they never do begin like this," reflected
Gideon ; " but then it's quite out of the question for me
to tackle a full score, and Jimson was so unconventional.
A dedication would be found convincing, I believe.
- Dedicated to' (let me see) ' to William Ewart Gladstone,
by his obedient servant the composer.' And now some
music : I had better avoid the overture, it seems to pre-
sent difficulties. Let's give an air for the tenor: Key —

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THE MAfiSTRO JIMSON

O, something modern ! — seven sharps. " And he made
a business-like signature across the staves, and then
paused and browsed for a while on the handle of his
pen. Melody, with no better inspiration than a sheet
of paper, is not usually found to spring unbidden in* the
mind of the amateur; nor is the key of seven sharps a
place of much repose to the untried. He cast away that
sheet. " It will help to build up the character of Jim-
son,' 1 Gideon remarked; and again waited on the muse,
in various keys and on divers sheets of paper, but all
with results so inconsiderable that he stood aghast
4 'It's very odd," thought he. "I seem to have less
fancy than I thought; or this is an off-day with me; yet
Jimson must leave something. " And again he bent him-
self to the task.

Presently the penetrating chill of the houseboat began
to attack the very seat of life. He desisted from his un-
remunerative trial; and to the audible annoyance of the
rats, walked briskly up and down the cabin. Still he
was cold. "This is all nonsense," said he. "1 don't
care about the risk, but 1 will not catch a catarrh. I
must get out of this den."

He stepped on deck, and passing to the bow of his
embarcation, looked for the first time up the river. He
started. Only a few hundred yards above another
houseboat lay moored among the willows. It was very
spick and span, an elegant canoe hung at the stern, the
windows were concealed by snowy curtains; a flag
floated from a staff. The more Gideon looked at it the
more there mingled with his disgust a sense of impotent
surprise. It was very like his uncle's houseboat; it was
exceedingly like, it was identical. But for two circum-

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stances he could have sworn it was the same. The
first, that his uncle had gone to Maidenhead, might be
explained away by that flightiness of purpose which is
so common a trait among the more than usually manly.
The second, however, was conclusive. It was not in
the least like Mr. Bloomfield to display a banner on his
floating residence; and if he ever did, it would certainly
be dyed in hues of emblematical propriety. Now the
Squirradical, like the vast majority of the more manly,
had drawn knowledge at the wells of Cambridge — he
was wooden spoon in the year 1850; and the flag upon
the houseboat streamed on the afternoon air with the
colours of that seat of Toryism, that cradle of Puseyism,
that home of the inexact and the effete — Oxford.

Still it was strangely like, thought Gideon.

And as he thus looked and thought, the door opened,
and a young lady stepped forth on deck. The barrister
dropped and fled into his cabin; it was Julia Hazeltine!
Through the window he watched her draw in the canoe,
get on board of it, cast off, and come dropping down
stream in his direction.

" Well, all is up now/' said he, and he fell on a seat.

4 'Good-afternoon, miss," said a voice on the water.
Gideon knew it for the voice of his landlord.

"Good-afternoon," replied Julia, "but I don't know
who you are; do I ? Oh, yes, I do though. You are
the nice man that gave us leave to sketch from the old
houseboat"

Gideon's heart leaped with fear.

• ' That's it, " returned the man. • ' And what I wanted
to say was as you couldn't do it any more. You see
I've let it"

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THE MAESTRO JIMSON

"Let it!" cried Julia.

1 ' Let it for a month, " said the man. ' ' Seems strange,
don't it ? Can't see what the party wants with it! "

" It seems very romantic of him, I think," said Julia.
" What sort of a person is he ? "

Julia in her canoe, the landlord in his wherry, were
close alongside, and holding on by the gunwale of the
houseboat; so that not a word was lost on Gideon.

" He's a music man," said the landlord, "or at least
that's what he told me, miss; come down here to write
an op'ra."

" Really! " cried Julia, " I never heard of anything so
delightful ! Why, we shall be able to slip down at night
and hear him improvise! What is his name ?"

"Jimson," said the man.

"Jimson ?" repeated Julia, and interrogated her mem-
ory in vain. But indeed our rising school of English
music boasts so many professors that we rarely hear of
one till he is made a baronet " Are you sure you have
it right?"

"Made him spell it to me," replied the landlord.
"J-I-M-S-O-N — Jimson; and hisop'ra's called — some
kind of tea."

"Some kind of teat" cried the girl. " What a very
singular name for an opera! What can it be about?"
And Gideon heard her pretty laughter flow abroad.
" We must try to get acquainted with this Mr. Jimson;
I feel sure he must be nice."

" Well, miss, I'm afraid I must be going on. I've got
to be at Haverham, you see."

"Oh, don't let me keep you, you kind man!" said
Julia. - ' Good-afternoon. "

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''Good-afternoon to you, miss."

Gideon sat in the cabin a prey to the most harrowing
thoughts. Here he was anchored to a rotting houseboat,
soon to be anchored to it still more emphatically by the
presence of the corpse; and here was the country buzz-
ing about him, and young ladies already proposing plea-
sure parties to surround his house at night. Well, that
meant the gallows; and much he cared for that. What
troubled him now was Julia's indescribable levity. That
girl would scrape acquaintance with anybody; she had
no reserve, none of the enamel of the lady. She was
familiar with a brute like his landlord ; she took an im-
mediate interest (which she lacked even the delicacy to
conceal) in a creature like Jimson ! He could conceive her
asking Jimson to have tea with her ! And it was for a girl
like this that a man like Gideon — Down, manly heart!

He was interrupted by a sound that sent him whip-
ping behind the door in a trice. Miss Hazeltine had
stepped on board the houseboat. Her sketch was
promising; judging from the stillness she supposed
Jimson not yet come; and she had decided to seize oc-
casion and complete the work of art. Down she sat
therefore in the bow, produced her block and water-
colours, and was soon singing over (what used to be
called) the ladylike accomplishment. Now and then
indeed her song was interrupted, as she searched in her
memory for some of the odious little receipts by means
of which the game is practised— or used to be practised
in the brave days of old; they say the world, and those
ornaments of the world, young ladies, are become more
sophisticated now; but Julia had probably studied under
Pitman, and she stood firm in the old ways.

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Gideon, meanwhile, stood behind the door, afraid to
move, afraid to breathe, afraid to think of what must
follow, racked by confinement and borne to the ground
with tedium. This particular phase, he felt with grati-
tude, could not last forever; whatever impended (even
the gallows, he bitterly and perhaps erroneously reflect-
ed) could not fail to be a relief. To calculate cubes oc-
curred to him as an ingenious and even profitable refuge
from distressing thoughts, and he threw his manhood
into that dreary exercise.

Thus, then, were these two young persons occupied,
Gideon attacking the perfect number with resolution;
Julia vigorously stippling incongruous colours on her
block, when Providence despatched into these waters
a steam launch asthmatically panting up the Thames.
All along the banks the water swelled and fell, and the
reeds rustled. The houseboat itself, that ancient sta-
tionary creature, became suddenly imbued with life, and
rolled briskly at her moorings, like a sea-going ship
when she begins to smell the harbour bar. The wash
had nearly died away, and the quick panting of the
launch sounded already faint and far off, when Gideon
was startled by a cry from Julia. Peering through the
window, he beheld her staring disconsolately down
stream at the fast-vanishing canoe. The barrister
(whatever were his faults) displayed on this occasion a
promptitude worthy of his hero, Robert Skill; with one
effort of his mind he foresaw what was about to follow ;
with one movement of his body he dropped to the floor
and crawled under the table.

Julia, on her part, was not yet alive to her position.
She saw she had lost the canoe, and she looked forward

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with something less than avidity to her next interview
with Mr. Bloomfield; but she had no idea that she was
imprisoned, for she knew of the plank bridge.

She made the circuit of the house, and found the door
open and the bridge withdrawn. It was plain, then,
that Jimson must have come; plain, too, that he must
be on board. He must be a very shy man to have
suffered this invasion of his residence, and made no
sign ; and her courage rose higher at the thought. He
must come now, she must force him from his privacy,
for the plank was too heavy for her single strength; so
she tapped upon the open door. Then she tapped
again.

" Mr. Jimson," she cried, "Mr. Jimson! here, come!
— you must come, you know, sooner or later, for I can't
get off without you. Oh, don't be so exceedingly silly !
Oh, please, come!"

Still there was no reply.

"If he is here he must be mad," she thought with
a little fear. And the next moment she remembered
he had probably gone abroad like herself in a boat In
that case, she might as well see the houseboat, and
she pushed open the door and stepped in. Under the
table, where he lay smothered with dust, Gideon's
heart stood still.

There were the remains of Jimson's lunch. " He likes
rather nice things to eat," she thought. "Oh, I am
sure he is quite a delightful man. I wonder if he is as
good-looking as Mr. Forsyth. Mrs. Jimson — I don't
believe it sounds as nice as Mrs. Forsyth; but then
' Gideon ' is so really odious! And here is some of his
music too; this is delightful. Orange Pekoe— Oh,

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that's what he meant by some kind of tea." And she
trilled with laughter. " Adagio tnolto espressivo, sempre
legato/' she read next. (For the literary part of a com-
poser's business Gideon was well equipped.) "How
very strange to have all these directions, and only three
or four notes! Oh, here's another with some more.
Andante patetico." And she began to glance over the
music. " O dear me," she thought, " he must be ter-
ribly modern! It all seems discords to me. Let's try
the air. It is very strange, it seems familiar." She
began to sing it, and suddenly broke off with laughter.
"Why, it's Tommy make room for your Uncle!'* she
cried aloud, so that the soul of Gideon was filled with
bitterness. "Andante patetico, indeed! The man
must be a mere impostor."

And just at this moment there came a confused, scuf-
fling sound from underneath the table; a strange note,
like that of a barn-door fowl, ushered in a most explo-
sive sneeze; the head of the sufferer was at the same
time brought smartly in contact with the boards above;
and the sneeze was followed by a hollow groan.

Julia fled to the door, and there, with the salutary in-
stinct of the brave, turned and faced the danger. There
was no pursuit. The sounds continued; below the
table a crouching figure was indistinctly to be seen
jostled by the throes of a sneezing fit; and that was
all.

"Surely," thought Julia, "this is most unusual be-
haviour. He cannot be a man of the world ! "

Meanwhile the dust of years had been disturbed by
the young barrister's convulsions; and the sneezing fit
was succeeded by a passionate access of coughing.

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Julia began to feel a certain interest "I am afraid
you are really quite ill/' she said, drawing a little nearer.
" Please don't let me put you out, and do not stay under
that table, Mr. Jimson. Indeed it cannot be good for
you."

Mr. Jimson only answered by a distressing cough;
and the next moment the girl was on her knees and
their faces had almost knocked together under the table.

"Oh, my gracious goodness!" exclaimed Miss Ha-
zeltine, and sprang to her feet "Mr. Forsyth gone
mad!"

"I am not mad," said the gentleman ruefully, extri-
cating himself from his position. ' ' Dearest Miss Hazel-
tine, I vow to you upon my knees I am not mad ! "

" You are not! " she cried, panting.

"I know," he said, "that to a superficial eye my
conduct may appear unconventional."

"If you are not mad, it was no conduct at all," cried
the girl, with a flash of colour, "and showed you did
not care one penny for my feelings! "

"This is the very devil and all. I know — I admit
that," cried Gideon, with a great effect of manly candour.

"It was abominable conduct ! " said Julia, with energy.

" I know it must have shaken your esteem," said the
barrister. "But, dearest Miss Hazeltine, I beg of you
to hear me out; my behaviour, strange as it may seem,
is not unsusceptible of explanation; and I positively
cannot and will not consent to continue to try to exist
without — without the esteem of one whom I admire —
the moment is ill-chosen, I am well aware of that; but
I repeat the expression — one whom I admire."

A touch of amusement appeared on Miss Hazeltine's
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THE MAESTRO JIMSON

face. " Very well," said she, " come out of this dread-
fully cold place, and let us sit down on deck." The
barrister dolefully followed her. "Now," said she,
making herself comfortable against the end of the house,
"go on. I will hear you out." And then seeing him
stand before her with so much obvious disrelish to the
task, she was suddenly overcome with laughter. Julia's
laugh was a thing to ravish lovers; she rolled her mirth-
ful descant with the freedom and the melody of a black-
bird's song upon the river, and repeated by the echoes
of the further bank, it seemed a thing in its own place
and a sound native to the open air. There was only
one creature who heard it without joy, and that was
her unfortunate admirer.

"Miss Hazeltine," he said, in a voice that tottered
with annoyance, "I speak as your sincere well-wisher,
but this can only be called levity."

Julia made great eyes at him.

"I can't withdraw the word," he said; "already the
freedom with which I heard you hobnobbing with a
boatman gave me exquisite pain. Then there was a
want of reserve about Jimson "

" But Jimson appears to be yourself," objected Julia.

"I am farfrom denying that," cried the barrister, "but
you did not know it at the time. What could Jimson
be to you ? Who was Jimson ? Miss Hazeltine, it cut
me to the heart."

" Really this seems to me to be very silly," returned
Julia, with severe decision. " You have behaved in the
most extraordinary manner; you pretend you are able to
explain your conduct, and instead of doing so you be-
gin to attack me."

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" I am well aware of that," replied Gideon. " I — I
will make a clean breast of it. When you know all the
circumstances you will be able to excuse me."

And sitting down beside her on the deck, he poured
forth his miserable history.

"Oh, Mr. Forsyth," she cried, when he had done.
* ' I am — so — sorry 1 I wish I hadn't laughed at you —
only you know you really were so exceedingly funny.
But I wish I hadn't, and I wouldn't either if I had only
known." And she gave him her hand.

Gideon kept it in his own. "You do not think the
worse of me for this ? " he asked, tenderly.

"Because you have been so silly and got into such
dreadful trouble? you poor boy, no! " cried Julia; and
in the warmth of the moment, reached him her other
hand; "you may count on me," she added.

"Really?" said Gideon.

" Really and really 1 " replied the girl.

" I do then, and I will," cried the young man, " I ad-
mit the moment is not well chosen ; but I have no friends
— to speak of."

"No more have I, " said Julia. " But don't you think
it's perhaps time you gave me back my hands ? "

"La ci darem la mano," said the barrister, "the
merest moment more! I have so few friends," he
added.

" I thought it was considered such a bad account of
a young man to have no friends," observed Julia.

"Oh, but I have crowds of friends! " cried Gideon.
"That's not what I mean. I feel the moment is ill
chosen ; but oh, Julia, if you could only see yourself ! "

"Mr. Forsyth "

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"Don't call me by that beastly name!" cried the
youth. ' ' Call me Gideon ! "

"Oh, never that!" from Julia. "Besides, we have
known each other such a short time."

"Not at all!" protested Gideon. "We met at
Bournemouth ever so long ago. I never forgot you
since. Say you never forgot me. Say you never forgot
me, and call me Gideon ! "

1 • Isn't this rather — a want of reserve about Jimson ? "
inquired the girl.

"Oh, I know I am an ass," cried the barrister, "and
I don't care a half-penny! I know I'm an ass, and you
may laugh at me to your heart's delight." And as Ju-
lia's lips opened with a smile, he once more dropped
into music. "There's the Land of Cherry Isle!" he
sang, courting her with his eyes.

" It's like an opera," said Julia, rather faintly.

"What should it be?" said Gideon. "Am I not
Jimson ? It would be strange if I did not serenade my
love. Oh, yes, I mean the word, my Julia; and I mean
to win you. I am in dreadful trouble, and I have not a
penny of my own, and I have cut the silliest figure; and
yet I mean to win you, Julia. Look at me, if you can,
and tell me no!"

She looked at him ; and whatever her eyes may have
told him, it is to be supposed he took a pleasure in the
message, for he read it a long while.

"And Uncle Ned will give us some money to go on
upon in the meanwhile," he said, at last.

"Well, I call that cool! " said a cheerful voice at his
elbow.

Gideon and Julia sprang apart with wonderful alac-
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rity; the latter annoyed to observe that although they
had never moved since they sat down, they were now
quite close together; both presenting faces of a very
heightened colour to the eyes of Mr. Edward Hugh
Bloomfield. That gentleman, coming up the river in his
boat, had captured the truant canoe, and divining what
had happened, had thought to steal a march on Miss
Hazeltine at her sketch. He had unexpectedly brought
down two birds with one stone; and as he looked upon
the pair of flushed and breathless culprits, the pleasant
human instinct of the match-maker softened his heart.

"Well, I call that cool," he repeated; "you seem
to count very securely upon Uncle Ned. But look here,
Gid, I thought 1 had told you to keep away P "

"To keep away from Maidenhead," replied Gid.
" But how should I expect to find you here ?"

"There is something in that," Mr. Bloomfield admit-
ted. " You see I thought it better that even you should
be ignorant of my address; those rascals, the Fins-
burys, would have wormed it out of you. And just to
put them off the scent I hoisted these abominable col-
ours. But that is not all, Gid; you promised me to
work, and here I find you playing the fool at Pad-
wick."

" Please, Mr. Bloomfield, you must not be hard on
Mr. Forsyth," said Julia. " Poor boy, he is in dreadful
straits."

" What's this, Gid ? " inquired the uncle. " Have you
been fighting ? or is it a bill ? "

These, in the opinion of the Squirradical, were the
two misfortunes incident to gentlemen ; and indeed both
were culled from his own career. He had once put his

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name (as a matter of form) on a friend's paper; it had
cost him a cool thousand ; and the friend had gone about
with the fear of death upon him ever since, and never
turned a corner without scouting in front of him for Mr.
Bloomfield and the oaken staff. As for fighting, the
Squirradical was always on the brink of it; and once,
when (in the character of president of a radical club) he
had cleared out the hall of his opponents, things had
gone even further. Mr. Holtum, the conservative can-
didate, who lay so long on the bed of sickness, was pre-
pared to swear to Mr. Bloomfield. " I will swear to it
in any court — it was the hand of that brute that struck
me down," he was reported to have said; and when he
was thought to be sinking, it was known that he had
made an ante-mortem statement in that sense. It was
a cheerful day for the Squirradical when Holtum was
restored to his brewery.

"It's much worse than that," said Gideon, "a com-
bination of circumstances really providentially unjust —
a — in fact, a syndicate of murderers seem to have per-
ceived my latent ability to rid them of the traces of their
crime. It's a legal study, after all, you see!" And
with these words, Gideon, for the second time that
day, began to describe the adventures of the Broadwood
Grand.

"I must write to The Times/' cried Mr. Bloomfield.

" Do you want to get me disbarred ? " asked Gideon.

" Disbarred! Come, it can't be as bad as that," said
his uncle. "It's a good, honest, liberal government
that's in, and they would certainly move at my request
Thank God, the days of tory jobbery are at an end."

"It wouldn't do, Uncle Ned," said Gideon.
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" But you're not mad enough," cried Mr. Bloomfield,
"to persist in trying to dispose of it yourself?"

"There is no other path open to me," said Gideon.

"It's not common-sense, and I will not hear of it,"
cried Mr. Bloomfield. "I command you, positively,
Gid, to desist from this criminal interference."

"Very well, then, I hand it over to you," said Gid-
eon, "and you can do what you like with the dead
body."

" God forbid I " ejaculated the president of the radical
club, " I'll have nothing to do with it"

" Then you must allow me to do the best I can," re-
turned his nephew. "Believe me, I have a distinct
talent for this sort of difficulty."

"We might forward it to that pest-house, the Con-
servative Club," observed Mr. Bloomfield. "It might
damage them in the eyes of their constituents; and it
could be profitably worked up in the local journal."

"If you see any political capital in the thing," said
Gideon, "you may have it for me."

"No, no, Gid — no, no, I thought you might I will
have no hand in the thing. On reflection, it's highly
undesirable that either 1 or Miss Hazeltine should linger
here. We might be observed," said the president,
looking up and down the river; "and in my public po-
sition, the consequences would be painful for the party.
And at any rate, it's dinner time."

"What?" cried Gideon, plunging for his watch.
"And so it is! Great heaven, the piano should have
been here hours ago I "

Mr. Bloomfield was clambering back into his boat;
but at these words he paused.

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"I saw it arrive myself at the station; I hired a car-
rier man; he had a round to make, but he was to be
here by four at the latest," cried the barrister. "No
doubt the piano is open, and the body found."

"You must fly at once," cried Mr. Bloomfield, "it's
the only manly step."

" But suppose it's all right ? " wailed Gideon. "Sup-
pose the piano comes, and I am not here to receive it ?
I shall have hanged myself by my cowardice. No,
Uncle Ned, inquiries must be made in Pad wick; I dare
not go, of course; but you may, you could hang about
the police office, don't you see ? "

"No, Gid — no, my dear nephew," said Mr. Bloom-
field, with the voice of one on the rack. "I regard you
with the most sacred affection ; and I thank God I am
an Englishman — and all that. But not — not the police,
Gid."

1 ' Then you desert me ? "said Gideon. ' ' Say it plainly. "

" Far from it! far from it! " protested Mr. Bloomfield.
" I only propose caution. Common-sense, Gid, should
always be an Englishman's guide."

"Will you let me speak ? " said Julia. " I think Gid-
eon had better leave this dreadful houseboat, and wait
among the willows over there. If the piano comes,
then he could step out and take it in ; and if the police
come, he could slip into our houseboat, and there
needn't be any more Jimson at all. He could go to bed,
and we could burn his clothes (couldn't we ?) in the
steam launch ; and then really it seems as if it would be
all right Mr. Bloomfield is so respectable, you know,
and such a leading character, it would be quite impos-
sible even to fancy that he could be mixed up with it."

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"This young lady has strong common-sense/' said
the SquirradicaL

"Oh, I don't think I'm at all a fool/' said Julia, with
conviction.

" But what if neither of them come ? " asked Gideon ;
"what shall I do then?"

"Why, then," said she, "you had better go down
to the village after dark; and I can go with you, and
then I am sure you could never be suspected ; and even
if you were, I could tell them it was altogether a mis-
take."

" I will not permit that — 1 will not suffer Miss Hazel-
tine to go," cried Mr. Bloomfield.

"Why?" asked Julia.

Mr. Bloomfield had not the least desire to tell her why,
for it was simply a craven fear of being drawn himself
into the imbroglio; but with the usual tactics of a man
who is ashamed of himself, he took the high hand.
"God forbid, my dear Miss Hazeltine, that I should dic-
tate to a lady on the question of propriety — " he began.

"Oh, is that all?" interrupted Julia. "Then we
must go all three."

" Caught! " thought the SquirradicaL

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CHAPTER XII

POSITIVELY THE LAST APPEARANCE OF THE BROADWOOD
GRAND

England is supposed to be unmusical; but without
dwelling on the patronage extended to the organ-grinder,
without seeking to found any argument on the preva-
lence of the Jew's trump, there is surely one instrument
that may be said to be national in the fullest acceptance
of the word. The herdboy in the broom, already musi-
cal in the days of Father Chaucer, startles (and perhaps
pains) the lark with this exiguous pipe; and in the
hands of the skilled bricklayer,

The thing becomes a trumpet, whence he blows

(as a general rule) either The British Grenadiers, or
Cherry Ripe. The latter air is indeed the shibboleth
and diploma piece of the penny whistler; I hazard a
guess it was originally composed for this instrument.
It is singular enough that a man should be able to gain
a livelihood, or even to tide over a period of unem-
ployment, by the display of his proficiency upon the
penny whistle; still more so, that the professional should
almost invariably confine himself to Cherry Ripe. But
indeed, singularities surround the subject, thick like

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despair; The Soldier's Jay carried him beyond jealousy
into generous enthusiasm.

"Turn about," said the military gentleman, offering
the pipe.

"Oh, not after you!" cried Harker; "you're a pro-
fessional." .

"No, "said his companion; "an amatyure like your-
self. That's one style of play, yours is the other, and
I like it best But I began when I was a boy, you see,
before my taste was formed. When you're my age
you'll play that thing like a cornet-&-piston. Give us
that air again; how does it go?" and he affected to en-
deavour to recall The Plougbbqy.

A timid, insane hope sprang in the breast of Harker.
Was it possible P Was there something in his playing?
It had, indeed, seemed to him at times as if he got a
kind of a richness out of it Was he a genius ? Mean-
time the military gentleman stumbled over the air.

"No, "said the unhappy Harker, ''that's not quite it
It goes this way — just to show you."

And, taking the pipe between his lips, he sealed his
doom. When he had played the air, and then a second
time, and a third ; when the military gentleman had tried
it once more, and once more failed; when it became
clear to Harker that he, the blushing debutant, was ac-
tually giving a lesson to this full-grown flutist — and the
flutist under his care was not very brilliantly progress-
ing — how am 1 to tell what floods of glory brightened
the autumnal countryside; how, unless the reader were
an amateur himself, describe the heights of idiotic
vanity to which the carrier climbed ? One significant
fact shall paint the situation : thenceforth it was Harker

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who played, and the military gentleman listened and
approved.

As he listened, however, he did not forget the habit
of soldierly precaution, looking both behind and before.
He looked behind and computed the value of the car-
rier's load, divining the contents of the brown paper
parcels and the portly hamper, and briefly setting down
the grand piano in the brand new piano-case as "diffi-
cult to get rid of." He looked before, and spied at the
corner of the green lane a little country public-house
embowered in roses. " I'll have a shy at it," concluded
the military gentleman, and roundly proposed a glass.

"Well, I'm not a drinking man," said Harker.

"Look here, now," cut in the other, "I'll tell you
who 1 am: I'm Colour-sergeant Brand of the Blankth.
That41 tell you if I'm a drinking man or not." It might
and it might not, thus a Greek chorus would have in-
tervened, and gone on to point out how very far it fell
short of telling why the sergeant was tramping a coun-
try lane in tatters; or even to argue that he must have
pretermitted some while ago his labours for the general
defence, and (in the interval) possibly turned his atten-
tion to oakum. But there was no Greek chorus present ;
and the man of war went on to contend that drinking
was one thing and a friendly glass another.

In the Blue Lion, which was the name of the country
public-house, Colour-sergeant Brand introduced his new
friend, Mr. Harker, to a number of ingenious mixtures,
calculated to prevent the approaches of intoxication.
These he explained to be "rekisite" in the service, so
that a self-respecting officer should always appear upon
parade in a condition honourable to his corps. The

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most efficacious of these devices was to lace a pint of
mild ale with twopence worth of London gin. I am
pleased to hand in this recipe to the discerning reader,
who may find it useful even in civil station; for its
effect upon Mr. Harker was revolutionary. He must
be helped on board his own wagon, where he proceeded
to display a spirit entirely given over to mirth and
music, alternately hooting with laughter, to which the
sergeant hastened to bear chorus, and incoherently
tootling on the pipe. The man of war, meantime, un-
ostentatiously possessed himself of the reins. It was
plain he had a taste for the secluded beauties of an
English landscape; for the cart, although it wandered
under his guidance for some time, was never observed
to issue on the dusty highway, journeying between
hedge and ditch, and for the most part under over-
hanging boughs. It was plain, besides, he had an eye
to the true interests of Mr. Harker; for though the cart
drew up more than once at the doors of public-houses,
it was only the sergeant who set foot to ground, and
being equipped himself with a quart bottle, once more
proceeded on his rural drive.

To give any idea of the complexity of the sergeant's
course, a map of that part of Middlesex would be re-
quired, and my publisher is averse from the expense.
Suffice it, that a little after the night had closed, the cart
was brought to a standstill in a woody road ; where the
sergeant lifted from among the parcels, and tenderly
deposited upon the wayside, the inanimate form of
Harker.

"If you come to before daylight," thought the ser-
geant, " I shall be surprised for one."

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From the various pockets of the slumbering carrier, he
gently collected the sum of seventeen shillings and
eightpence sterling; and getting once more into the
cart drove thoughtfully away.

" If I was exactly sure of where I was, it would be a
good job," he reflected. " Anyway, here's a corner."

He turned it, and found himself upon the riverside. A
little above him the lights of a houseboat shone cheer-
fully ; and already close at hand, so close that it was im-
possible to avoid their notice, three persons, a lady and
two gentlemen, were deliberately drawing near. The
sergeant put his trust in the convenient darkness of the
night, and drove on to meet them. One of the gentle-
men, who was of a portly figure, walked in the midst
of the fairway and presently held up a staff by way of
signal.

"My man, have you seen anything of a carrier's
cart?" he cried.

Dark as it was, it seemed to the sergeant as though
the slimmer of the two gentlemen had made a motion to
prevent the other speaking, and (finding himself too
late) had skipped aside with some alacrity. At another
season, Sergeant Brand would have paid more attention
to the fact; but he was then immersed in the perils of
his own predicament

" A carrier's cart ? " said he, with a perceptible uncer-
tainty of voice. • ' No, sir. "

11 Ah! " said the portly gentleman, and stood aside to
let the sergeant pass. The lady appeared to bend for-
ward and study the cart with every mark of sharpened
curiosity; the slimmer gentleman still keeping in the
rear.

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" I wonder what the devil they would be at," thought
Sergeant Brand; and looking fearfully back, he saw the
trio standing together in the midst of the way, like folk
consulting. The bravest of military heroes are not al-
ways equal to themselves as to their reputation ; and
fear, on some singular provocation, will find a lodge-
ment in the most unfamiliar bosom. The word " de-
tective " might have been heard to gurgle in the ser-
geant's throat; and vigorously applying the whip, he
tied up the riverside road to Great Haverham, at the
gallop of the carrier's horse. The lights of the house-
boat flashed upon the flying wagon as it passed; the
beat of hoofs and the rattle of the vehicle gradually coa-
lesced and died away; and presently, to the trio on the
riverside, silence had redescended.

' ' It's the most extraordinary thing, " cried the slimmer
of the two gentlemen, " but that's the cart! "

" And I know I saw a piano," said the girl.

"Oh, it's the cart, certainly; and the extraordinary
thing is, it's not the man," added the first

"It must be the man, Gid, it must be," said the portly
one.

1 ' Well, then, why is he running away ? " asked Gideon.

" His horse bolted, I suppose," said the Squirradical.

" Nonsense! I heard the whip going like a flail," said
Gideon. " It simply defies the human reason."

"I'll tell you," broke in the girl, "he came round
that corner. Suppose we went and — what do they call
it in books? — followed his trail? There may be a
house there, or somebody who saw him, or something."

"Well, suppose we did, for the fun of the thing,"
said Gideon.

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The fun of the thing (it would appear) consisted in the
extremely close juxtaposition of himself and Miss Ha-
zeltine. To Uncle Ned, who was excluded from these
simple pleasures, the excursion appeared hopeless from
the first; and when a fresh perspective of darkness
opened up, dimly contained between park palings on
the one side and a hedge and ditch upon the other, the
whole without the smallest signal of human habitation,
the Squirradical drew up.

"This is a wild-goose chase," said he.

With the cessation of the footfalls, another sound
smote upon their ears.

"Oh, what's that?" cried Julia.

"I can't think," said Gideon.

The Squirradical had his stick presented like a sword.
"Gid," he began, "Gid, I "

" Oh, Mr. Forsyth ! " cried the girl. " Oh ! don't go
forward, you don't know what it might be-^it might
be something perfectly horrid."

" It may be the devil itself," said Gideon, disengag-
ing himself, " but I am going to see it."

" Don't be rash, Gid," cried his uncle.

The barrister drew near to the sound, which was cer-
tainly of a portentous character. In quality, it appeared
to blend the strains of the cow, the fog-horn, and the mos-
quito; and the startling manner of its enunciation added
incalculably to its terrors. A dark object, not unlike the
human form divine, appeared on the brink of the ditch.

"It's a man," said Gideon, "it's only a man; he
seems to be asleep and snoring. Hullo," he added, a
moment after, "there must be something wrong with
him, he won't waken."

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Gideon produced his vestas, struck one, and by its
light recognised the tow-head of Harker.

"This is the man/' said he, "as drunk as Belial 1
see the whole story; " and to his two companions, who
had now ventured to rejoin him, he set forth a theory of
the divorce between the carrier and his cart, which was
not unlike the truth.

" Drunken brute! " said Uncle Ned, " let's get him to
a pump and give him what he deserves."

" Not at all! " said Gideon. " It is highly undesira-
ble he should see us together; and really, do you know,
I am very much obliged to him, for this is about the
luckiest thing that could have possibly occurred. It
seems to me — Uncle Ned, I declare to heaven it seems
to me I'm clear of it!"

" Clear of what ? " asked the Squirradical.

" The whole affair! " cried Gideon. " That man has
been ass enough to steal the cart and the dead body;
what he hopes to do with it, 1 neither know nor care.
My hands are free, Jimson ceases; down with Jimson.
Shake hands with me, Uncle Ned — Julia, darling girl,
Julia, I "

"Gideon, Gideon!" said his uncle.

"Oh, it's all right, uncle, when we're going to be
married so soon," said Gideon. " You know you said
so yourself in the houseboat."

"Did I ?" said Uncle Ned, "1 am certain I said no
such thing."

" Appeal to him, tell him he did, get on his soft side,"
cried Gideon. " He's a real brick if you get on his soft
side."

" Dear Mr. Bloomfield," said Julia, "1 know Gideon
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LAST APPEARANCE OF THE BROADWOOD GRAND

will be such a very good boy, and he has promised me
to do such a lot of law, and I will see that he does too.
And you know it is so very steadying to young men,
everybody admits that; though, of course, 1 know 1 have
no money, Mr. Bloomfield," she added.

" My dear young lady, as this rapscallion told you to-
day on the boat, Uncle Ned has plenty," said the Squir-
radical, "and I can never forget that you have been
shamefully defrauded. So as there's nobody looking,
you had better give your Uncle Ned a kiss. There, you
rogue," resumed Mr. Bloomfield, when the ceremony
had been daintily performed, "this very pretty young
lady is yours, and a vast deal more than you deserve.
But now, let us get back to the houseboat, get up steam
on the launch, and away back to town."

11 That's the thing! " cried Gideon ; " and to-morrow,
there will be no houseboat, and no Jimson, and no car-
rier's cart, and no piano; and when Harker awakes on
the ditch side, he may tell himself the whole affair has
been a dream."

"Aha!" said Uncle Ned, "but there's another man
who will have a different awakening. That fellow in
the cart will find he has been too clever by half."

" Uncle Ned and Julia," said Gideon, " I am as happy
as the King of Tartary, my heart is like a threepenny bit,
my heels are like feathers; I am out of all my troubles,
Julia's hand is in mine. Is this a time for anything but
handsome sentiments ? Why, there's not room in me
for anything that's not angelic! And when 1 think of
that poor unhappy devil in the cart, I stand here in the
night and cry with a single heart — God help him! "

"Amen," said Uncle Ned.
•77

—

CHAPTER XIII

THE TRIBULATIONS OF MORRIS: PART THE SECOND

In a really polite age of literature, I would have scorned
to cast my eye again on the contortions of Morris. But
the study is in the spirit of the day; it presents, besides,
features of a high, almost a repulsive morality; and if it
should prove the means of preventing any respectable
and inexperienced gentleman from plunging light-heart-
edly into crime, even political crime, this work will not
have been penned in vain.

He rose on the morrow of his night with Michael, rose
from the leaden slumber of distress, to find his hand
tremulous, his eyes closed with rheum, his throat
parched, and his digestion obviously paralysed. "Lord
knows it's not from eating I " Morris thought; and as he
dressed he reconsidered his position under several heads.
Nothing will so well depict the troubled seas in which
he was now voyaging as a review of these various anxi-
eties. I have thrown them (for the reader's convenience)
into a certain order; but in the mind of one poor human
equal, they whirled together like the dust of hurricanes.
With the same obliging preoccupation, I have put a name
to each of his distresses ; and it will be observed with
pity that every individual item would have graced and
commended the cover of a railway novel.

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Anxiety the First : Where is the Body ? or, the Mystery
of Bent Pitman. It was now manifestly plain that Bent
Pitman (as was to be looked for from his ominous ap-
pellation) belonged to the darker order of the criminal
class. An honest man would not have cashed the bill;
a humane man would not have accepted in silence the
tragic contents of the water-butt; a man, who was not
already up to the hilts in gore, would have lacked the
means of secretly disposing them. This process of
reasoning left a horrid image of the monster, Pitman.
Doubtless he had long ago disposed of the body —
dropping it through a trap-door in his back kitchen,
Morris supposed, with some hazy recollection of a pic-
ture in a penny dreadful; and doubtless the man now
lived in wanton splendor on the proceeds of the bill.
So far, all was peace. But with the profligate habits of
a man like Bent Pitman (who was no doubt a hunch-
back in the bargain), eight hundred pounds could be
easily melted in a week. When they were gone, what
would he be likely to do next? A hell-like voice in
Morris's own bosom gave the answer: "Blackmail
me."

Anxiety the Second : The Fraud of the Tontine; or, Is
my Uncle Dead} This, on which all Morris's hopes
depended, was yet a question. He had tried to bully
Teena; he had tried to bribe her; and nothing came of
it. He had his moral conviction still; but you cannot
blackmail a sharp lawyer on a moral conviction. And
besides, since his interview with Michael, the idea wore
a less attractive countenance. Was Michael the man to
be blackmailed ? and was Morris the man to do it P
Grave considerations. "It's not that I am afraid of

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him," Morris so far condescended to reassure himself;
"but I must be very certain of my ground, and the
deuce of it is, I see no way. How unlike is life to
novels! 1 wouldn't have even begun this business in
a novel, but what I'd have met a dark, slouching fellow
in the Oxford Road, who'd have become my accom-
plice, and known all about how to do it, and probably
broken into Michael's house at night and found nothing
but a wax- work image; and then blackmailed or mur-
dered me. But here, in real life, I might walk the streets
till 1 dropped dead, and none of the criminal classes
would look near me. Though, to be sure, there is
always Pitman," he added, thoughtfully.

Anxiety the Third: The Cottage at Browndean; or,
The Underpaid Accomplice. For he had an accomplice,
and that accomplice was blooming unseen in a damp
cottage in Hampshire with empty pockets. What could
be done about that ? He really ought to have sent him
something; if it was only a post-office order for five-
bob, enough to prove that he was kept in mind, enough
to keep him in hope, beer, and tobacco. "But what
would you have ? " thought Morris ; and ruefully poured
into his hand a half-crown, a florin, and eightpence in
small change. For a man in Morris's position, at war
with all society, and conducting, with the hand of in-
experience, a widely ramified intrigue, the sum was
already a derision. John would have to be doing; no
mistake of that. " But then," asked the hell-like voice,
" how long is John likely to stand it ? "

Anxiety the Fourth: The Leather Business ; or, The
Shutters at Last; a Tale of the City. On this head,
Morris had no news. He had not yet dared to visit the

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family concern ; yet he knew he must delay no longer,
and if anything had been wanted to sharpen this con-
viction, Michael's references of the night before rang
ambiguously in his ear. Well and good. To visit the
city might be indispensable; but what was he to do
when he was there? He had no right to sign in his
own name; and with all the will in the world, he
seemed to lack the art of signing with his uncle's.
Under these circumstances, Morris could do nothing to
procrastinate the crash ; and when it came, when pry-
ing eyes began to be applied to every joint of his be-
haviour, two questions could not fail to be addressed,
sooner or later, to a speechless and perspiring insolvent.
Where is Mr. Joseph Finsbury ? and how about your
visit to the bank? Questions, how easy to putl — ye
gods, how impossible to answer! The man to whom
they should be addressed went certainly to gaol, and —
eh! what was this ? — possibly to the gallows. Morris
was trying to shave when this idea struck him, and he
laid the razor down. Here (in Michael's words) was
the total disappearance of a valuable uncle; here was a
time of inexplicable conduct on the part of a nephew
who had been in bad blood with the old man any time
these seven years ; what a chance for a judicial blunder!
44 But no," thought Morris, <4 they cannot, they dare not
make it murder. Not that But honestly, and speak-
ing as a man to a man, I don't see any other crime in
the calendar (except arson) that 1 don't seem somehow
to have committed. And yet I'm a perfectly respecta-
ble man, and wished nothing but my due. Law is a
pretty business."
With this conclusion firmly seated in his mind, Mor-
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ris Finsbury descended to the hall of the house in John
Street, still half shaven. There was a letter in the box;
he knew the handwriting: John at last.

"Well, 1 think I might have been spared this," he
said bitterly, and tore it open.

' ' Dear Morris, " it ran, ' ' what the dickens do you mean
by it? I'm in an awful hole down here; 1 have to go
on tick, and the parties on the spot don't cotton to the
idea; they couldn't, because it is so plain I'm in a stait
of Destitution. I've got no bed-clothes, think of that,
I must have coins, the hole thing's a Mockry, I won't
stand it, nobody would. I would have come away be-
fore, only I have no money for the railway fair. Don't
be a lunatic, Morris, you don't seem to understand my
dredful situation. I have to get the stamp on tick. A
fact. Ever your affte. Brother, J. Finsbury."

"Can't even spell I " Morris reflected, as he crammed
the letter in his pocket, and left the house. " What can
I do for him ? 1 have to go to the expense of a barber,
I'm so shattered ! How can I send anybody coins ? It's
hard lines, I dare say; but does he think I'm living on
hot muffins? One comfort," was his grim reflection,
" he can't cut and run : he's got to stay, he's as helpless
as the dead." And then he broke forth again : " Com-
plains, does he ? and he's never even heard of Bent Pit-
man ! If he had what I have on my mind, he might
complain with a good grace."

But these were not honest arguments, or not wholly
honest; there was a struggle in the mind of Morris; he
could not disguise from himself that his brother John
was miserably situated at Browndean, without news,
without money, without bed-clothes, without society

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or any entertainment; and by the time he had been
shaved and picked a hasty breakfast at a coffee-tavern,
Morris had arrived at a compromise.

"Poor Johnnie," he said to himself, " he's in an aw-
ful box. 1 can't send him coins; but I'll tell you what
I'll do, I'll send him the Pink Un, it'll cheer John up; and
besides, it'll do his credit good getting anything by post."

Accordingly, on his way to the leather business,
whither he proceeded (according to his thrifty habit) on
foot, Morris purchased and despatched a single copy of
that enlivening periodical, to which (in a sudden pang
of remorse) he added at random the Athenaeum, the
Revivalist, and the Penny Piftorial Weekly. So there
was John set up with literature, and Morris had laid
balm upon his conscience.

As if to reward him, he was received in his place of
business with good news. Orders were pouring in;
there was a run on some of the back stock, and the fig-
ure had gone up; even the manager appeared elated.
As for Morris, who had almost forgotten the meaning
of good news, he longed to sob like a little child; he
could have caught the manager (a pallid man with
startled eyebrows) to his bosom ; he could have found
it in his generosity to give a check (for a small sum) to
every clerk in the counting-house. As he sat and opened
his letters, a chorus of airy vocalists sang in his brain,
to most exquisite music, "This old concern may be
profitable yet, profitable yet, profitable yet"

To him, in this sunny moment of relief, enter a Mr.
Rodgerson, a creditor, but not one who was expected
to be pressing, for his connection with the firm was old
and regular.

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"Oh, Finsbury,"said he, not without embarrassment,
"it's of course only fair to let you know — the fact
is, money is a trifle tight — 1 have some paper out
—for that matter, every one's complaining — and in
short "

" It has never been our habit, Rodgerson," said Mor-
ris, turning pale. "But give me time to turn round,
and I'll see what I can do; I dare say we can let you
have something on account"

"Well, that's just where it is," replied Rodger-
son. "I was tempted, I've let the credit out of my
hands."

"Out of your hands?" repeated Morris. "That's
playing rather fast and loose with us, Mr. Rodgerson."

"Well, I got cent for cent for it," said the other, "on
the nail, in a certified cheque."

" Cent for cent! " cried Morris. " Why, that's some-
thing like thirty per cent bonus; a singular thing!
Who's the party?"

" Don't know the man," was the reply. " Name of
Moss."

" A Jew," Morris reflected, when his visitor was gone.
And what could a Jew want with a claim of — he veri-
fied the amount in the books — a claim of three five
eight, nineteen, ten, against the house of Finsbury ?
And why should he pay cent for cent? The figure
proved the loyalty of Rodgerson, even Morris admitted
that. But it proved unfortunately something else: the
eagerness of Moss. The claim must have been wanted
instantly, for that day, for that morning even. Why ?
The mystery of Moss promised to be a fit pendant to
the mystery of Pitman. " And just when all was look-

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ing well, tool " cried Morris, smiting his hand upon the
desk. And almost at the same moment, Mr. Moss was
announced.

Mr. Moss was a radiant Hebrew, brutally handsome
and offensively polite. He was acting (it appeared) for
a third party; he understood nothing of the circum-
stances; his client desired to have his position regular-
ised ; but he would accept an antedated cheque — ante-
dated by two months, if Mr. Finsbury chose.

" But I don't understand this," said Morris. " What
made you pay cent per cent for it to-day ? "

Mr. Moss had no idea; only his orders.

" The whole thing is thoroughly irregular," said Mor-
ris. " It is not the custom of the trade to settle at this
time of the year. What are your instructions if I re-
fuse?"

"I am to see Mr. Joseph Finsbury, the head of the
firm, " said Mr. Moss. ' ' I was directed to insist on that ;
it was implied you had no status here — the expressions
are not mine."

"You cannot see Mr. Joseph; he is unwell," said
Morris.

" In that case I was to place the matter in the hands
of a lawyer — let me see — " said Mr. Moss, opening a
pocketbook, with perhaps suspicious care, at the right
place — "Yes — of Mr. Michael Finsbury. A relation,
perhaps P In that case, I presume, the matter will be
pleasantly arranged."

To pass into the hands of Michael was too much for
Morris; he struck his colours: a cheque at two months
was nothing, after all. In two months he would prob-
ably be dead, or in a gaol at any rate. He bade the

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And even so, in what terms to ask a meeting? on what
grounds ? and where ? Not at John Street, for it would
never do to let a man like Bent Pitman know your real
address; nor yet at Pitman's house, some dreadful place
in Holloway, with a trap-door in the back kitchen ; a
house which you might enter in a light summer over-
coat and varnished boots, to come forth again piece-
meal in a market-basket. That was the drawback of
a really efficient accomplice, Morris felt, not without a
shudder. " I never dreamed I should come to actually
covet such society/' he thought. And then a brilliant
idea struck him. Waterloo Station, a public place,
yet at certain hours of the day a solitary ; a place, be-
sides, the very name of which must knock upon the
heart of Pitman, and at once suggest a knowledge of
the latest of his guilty secrets. Morris took a piece of
paper and sketched his advertisement.

"William Bent Pitman, if this should meet the eye
of, he will hear of something to his advantage at the
far end of the main line departure platform, Waterloo
Station, 2 to 4 p.m., Sunday next."

Morris reperused this literary trifle with approbation.
"Terse," he reflected. "Something to his advantage
is not strictly true; but it's taking and original, and a
man is not on oath in an advertisement. All that I re-
quire now is the ready cash for my own meals and for
the advertisement, and — no, I can't lavish money upon
John, but I'll give him some more papers. How to
raise the wind?"

He approached his cabinet of signets, and the collector
suddenly revolted in his blood. " I will not! " he cried,
"nothing shall induce me to massacre my collection —

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rather theft I" And dashing upstairs to the drawing-
room, he helped himself to a few of his uncle's curiosi-
ties: a pair of Turkish babooshes, a Smyrna fan, a
water-cooler, a musket guaranteed to have been seized
from an Ephesian bandit, and a pocketful of curious but
incomplete sea-shells.

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CHAPTER XIV

WILLIAM BENT PITMAN HEARS OF SOMETHING TO HIS
ADVANTAGE

On the morning of Sunday, William Dent Pitman rose
at his usual hour, although with something more than
the usual reluctance. The day before (it should be ex-
plained) an addition had been made to his family in the
person of a lodger. Michael Finsbury had acted spon-
sor in the business, and guaranteed the weekly bill; on
the other hand, no doubt with a spice of his prevailing
jocularity, he had drawn a depressing portrait of the
lodger's character. Mr. Pitman had been led to under-
stand his guest was not good company; he had ap-
proached the gentleman with fear, and had rejoiced to
find himself the entertainer of an angel. At tea he had
been vastly pleased ; till hard on one in the morning he
had sat entranced by eloquence and progressively forti-
fied with information in the studio; and now, as he re-
viewed over his toilet the harmless pleasures of the
evening, the future smiled upon him with revived at-
tractions. "Mr. Finsbury is, indeed, an acquisition,"
he remarked to himself; and as he entered the little
parlour, where the table was already laid for breakfast,
the cordiality of his greeting would have befitted an
acquaintanceship already old.

"I am delighted to see you, sir" — these were his
expressions — "and I trust you have slept well."

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PITMAN HEARS OF SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE

"Accustomed as I have been for $o long to a life of
almost perpetual change," replied the guest, "the dis-
turbance so often complained of by the more sedentary,
as attending their first night in (what is called) a new
bed is a complaint from which I am entirely free."

" 1 am delighted to hear it," said the drawing-master
warmly. " But I see I have interrupted you over the
paper."

"The Sunday paper is one of the features of the age,"
said Mr. Finsbury. "In America, I am told, it super-
sedes all other literature, the bone and sinew of the na-
tion finding their requirements catered for; hundreds of
columns will be occupied with interesting details of the
world's doings, such as water-spouts, elopements, con-
flagrations, and public entertainments; there is a corner
for politics, ladies' work, chess, religion, and even lit-
erature; and a few spicy editorials serve to direct the
course of public thought. It is difficult to estimate the
part played by such enormous and miscellaneous re-
positories in the education of the people. But this
(though interesting in itself) partakes of the nature of a
digression ; and what 1 was about to ask you was this :
Are you yourself a student of the daily press ? "

"There is not much in the papers to interest an
artist," returned Pitman.

"In that case," resumed Joseph, "an advertisement
which has appeared the last two days in various jour-
nals, and reappears this morning, may possibly have
failed to catch your eye. The name, with a trifling va-
riation, bears a strong resemblance to your own. Ah,
here it is. If you please, I will read it to you.

" 'William Bent Pitman, if this should meet the eye
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of, he will hear of something to his advantage at the
far end of the main line departure platform, Waterloo
Station, 2 to 4 p. M. to-day.' "

"Is that in print?" cried Pitman, "Let me see it!
Bent ? It must be Dent ! Something to my advantage ?
Mr. Finsbury, excuse me offering a word of caution; I
am aware how strangely this must sound in your ears,
but there are domestic reasons why this little circum-
stance might perhaps be better kept between ourselves.
Mrs. Pitman — my dear sir, I assure you there is nothing
dishonourable in my secrecy; the reasons are domestic,
merely domestic; and I may set your conscience at rest
when I assure you all the circumstances are known to
our common friend, your excellent nephew, Mr. Michael,
who has not withdrawn from me his esteem."

"A word is enough, Mr. Pitman," said Joseph, with
one of his oriental reverences.

Half an hour later, the drawing-master found Michael
in bed and reading a book, the picture of good-humour
and repose.

"Hillo, Pitman," he said, laying down his book,
" what brings you here at this inclement hour ? Ought
to be in church, my boy 1 "

"I have little thought of church to-day, Mr. Fins-
bury," said the drawing-master. "I am on the brink
of something new, sin" And he presented the adver-
tisement

"Why, what is this?" cried Michael, sitting sud-
denly up. He studied it for half a minute with a frown.
" Pitman, I don't care about this document a particle,"
said he.

" It will have to be attended to, however," said Pitman.
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PITMAN HEARS OF SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE

" I thought you'd had enough of Waterloo/' returned
the lawyer. "Have you started a morbid craving?
You've never been yourself anyway since you lost that
beard. I believe now it was where you kept your
senses."

"Mr. Finsbury," said the drawing-master, "I have
tried to reason this matter out, and, with your permis-
sion, I should like to lay before you the results."

" Fire away," said Michael; " but please, Pitman, re-
member it's Sunday, and let's have no bad language."

"There are three views open to us," began Pitman.
" First, this may be connected with the barrel; second,
it may be connected with Mr. Semitopolis' statue; and
third, it may be from my wife's brother, who went to
Australia. In the first case, which is of course possible,
I confess the matter would be best allowed to drop."

"The court is with you there, Brother Pitman," said
Michael.

"In the second," continued the other, "it is plainly
my duty to leave no stone unturned for the recovery of
the lost antique."

"My dear fellow, Semitopolis has come down like a
trump; he has pocketed the loss and left you the profit
What more would you have ? " inquired the lawyer.

" I conceive, sir, under correction, that Mr. Semitopo-
lis' generosity binds me to even greater exertion," said
the drawing-master. "The whole business was un-
fortunate; it was — I need not disguise it from you — it
was illegal from the first: the more reason that I should
try to behave like a gentleman," concluded Pitman,
flushing.

" I have nothing to say to that," returned the lawyer.
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" I have sometimes thought I should like to try to behave
like a gentleman myself; only it's such a one-sided busi-
ness, with the world and the legal profession as they
are."

"Then, in the third," resumed the drawing-master,
"if it's Uncle Tim, of course, our fortune's made."

"It's not Uncle Tim, though," said the lawyer.

" Have you observed that very remarkable expres-
sion : Something to bis advantage ? ' ' inquired Pitman,
shrewdly.

"You innocent mutton," said Michael, "it's the
seediest commonplace in the English language, and only
proves the advertiser is an ass. Let me demolish your
house of cards for you at once. Would Uncle Tim make
that blunder in your name? — in itself, the blunder is
delicious, a huge improvement on the gross reality, and
I mean to adopt it in the future; but is it like Uncle
Tim?"

"No, it's not like him," Pitman admitted. " But his
mind may have become unhinged at Ballarat."

"If you come to that, Pitman," said Michael, "the
advertiser may be Qyeen Victoria, fired with the desire
to make a duke of you. I put it to yourself if that's prob-
able; and yet it's not against the laws of nature. But
we sit here to consider probabilities; and with your gen-
teel permission, I eliminate her Majesty and Uncle Tim
on the threshold. To proceed, we have your second
idea, that this has some connection with the statue.
Possible; but in that case who is the advertiser ? Not
Ricardi, for he knows your address; not the person who
got the box, for he doesn't know your name. The van-
man, I hear you suggest, in a lucid interval. He might

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have got your name, and got it incorrectly, at the sta-
tion ; and he might have failed to get your address. I
grant the van-man. But a question : Do you really wish
to meet the van-man ? "

"Why should 1 not?" asked Pitman.

" If he wants to meet you, " replied Michael, ■ ' observe
this: It is because he has found his address-book, has
been to the house that got the statue, and — mark my
words ! — is moving at the instigation of the murderer. "

"I should be very sorry to think so," said Pit-
man; "but I still consider it my duty to Mr. Semi-
topolis ..."

"Pitman," interrupted Michael, "this will not do.
Don't seek to impose on your legal adviser; don't try
to pass yourself off for the Duke of Wellington, for that
is not your line. Come, I wager a dinner 1 can read
your thoughts. You still believe it's Uncle Tim."

"Mr. Finsbury," said the drawing-master, colouring,
"you are not a man in narrow circumstances, and you
have no family. Guendolen is growing up, a very prom-
ising girl — she was confirmed this year ; and I think you
will be able to enter into my feelings as a parent, when
I tell you she is quite ignorant of dancing. The boys are
at the board-school, which is all very well in its way;
at least, I am the last man in the world to criticise the
institutions of my native land. But 1 had fondly hoped
that Harold might become a professional musician ; and
little Otho shows a quite remarkable vocation for the
Church. I am not exactly an ambitious man ..."

"Well, well," interrupted Michael. "Be explicit;
you think it's Uncle Tim."

"It might be Uncle Tim," insisted Pitman, "and if
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it were, and I neglected the occasion, how could I ever
look my children in the face ? I do not refer to Mrs.
Pitman ..."

"No, you never do," said Michael.

"... but in the case of her own brother returning
from Ballarat ..." continued Pitman.

"... with his mind unhinged/' put in the lawyer.

"... returning from Ballarat with a large fortune,
her impatience may be more easily imagined than de-
scribed," concluded Pitman.

"All right," said Michael, "be it so. And what do
you propose to do ? "

"I am going to Waterloo," said Pitman, "in dis-
guise."

" All by your little self? " inquired the lawyer. "Well,
I hope you think it safe. Mind and send me word from
the police cells."

"Oh, Mr. Finsbury, I had ventured to hope — per-
haps you might be induced to — to make one of us,"
faltered Pitman.

" Disguise myself on Sunday ?" cried Michael "How
little you understand my principles!"

" Mr. Finsbury, I have no means of showing you my
gratitude; but let me ask you one question," said Pit-
man. " If 1 were a very rich client, would you not take
the risk?"

" Diamond, Diamond, you know not what you dol "
cried Michael. " Why, man, do you suppose I make a
practice of cutting about London with my clients in dis-
guise ? Do you suppose money would induce me to
touch this business with a stick ? I give you my word
of honor, it would not But I own I have a real curi-

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ositv to see how you conduct this interview — that
tempts me; it tempts me, Pitman, more than gold — it
should be exquisitely rich." And suddenly Michael
laughed. ' ' Well, Pitman, " said he, " have all the truck
ready in the studio. I'll go."

About twenty minutes after two, on this eventful day,
the vast and gloomy shed of Waterloo lay, like the
temple of a dead religion, silent and deserted. Here
and there, at one of the platforms, a train lay becalmed;
here and there a wandering footfall echoed; the cab-
horses outside stamped with startling reverberations on
the stones: or from the neighbouring wilderness of rail-
way an engine snorted forth a whistle. The main line
departure platform slumbered like the rest; the booking-
hutches closed ; the backs of Mr. Haggard's novels, with
which upon a week-day the book-stall shines embla-
zoned, discreetly hidden behind dingy shutters; the
rare officials, undisguisedly somnambulant; and the
customary loiterers, even to the middle-aged woman
with the ulster and the handbag, fled to more congenial
scenes. As in the inmost dells of some small tropic
island the throbbing of the ocean lingers, so here a faint
pervading hum and trepidation told in every corner of
surrounding London.

At the hour already named, persons acquainted with
John Dickson, of Ballarat, and Ezra Thomas, of the
United States of America, would have been cheered to
behold them enter through the booking-office.

41 What names are we to take ? " inquired the latter,
anxiously adjusting the window-glass spectacles which
he had been suffered on this occasion to assume.

"There's no choice for you, my boy," returned Mi-
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chael. " Bent Pitman or nothing. As for me, 1 think I
look as if I might be called Appleby; something agree-
ably old-world about Appleby — breathes of Devonshire
cider. Talking of which, suppose you wet your whistle?
the interview is likely to be trying."

" I think I'll wait till afterward," returned Pitman,
" on the whole, I think I'll wait till the thing's over. 1
don't know if it strikes you as it does me; but the place
seems deserted and silent, Mr. Finsbury, and filled with
very singular echoes."

"Kind of Jack-in-the-box feeling?" inquired Mi-
chael, "as if all these empty trains might be filled with
policemen waiting for a signal ? and Sir Charles Warren
perched among the girders with a silver whistle to his
lips? It's guilt, Pitman."

In this uneasy frame of mind they walked nearly the
whole length of the departure platform, and at the
western extremity became aware of a slender figure
standing backed against a pillar. The figure was plainly
sunk into a deep abstraction ; he was not aware of their
approach, but gazed far abroad over the sunlit station.
Michael stopped.

" Holloa 1 " said he, " can that be your advertiser ? If
so, I'm done with it." And then, on second thoughts:
"Not so, either, " he resumed, more cheerfully. " Here,
turn your back a moment So. Give me the specs."

" But you agreed I was to have them," protested Pit-
man.

"Ah, but that man knows me," said Michael.

"Does he? what's his name?" cried Pitman.

"Oh, he took me into his confidence," returned the
lawyer. "But I may say one thing: If he's your ad-

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vertiser (and he may be, for he seems to have been
seized with criminal lunacy) you can go ahead with a clear
conscience, for 1 hold him in the hollow of my hand."

The change effected, and Pitman comforted with this
good news, the pair drew near to Morris.

" Are you looking for Mr. William Bent Pitman?"
inquired the drawing-master. " I am he."

Morris raised his head. He saw before him, in the
speaker, a person of almost indescribable insignificance,
in white spats and a shirt cut indecently low. A little
behind a second and more burly figure offered little to
criticism, except ulster, whiskers, spectacles, and deer-
stalker hat Since he had decided to call up devils from
the underworld of London, Morris had pondered deeply
on the probabilities of their appearance. His first emo-
tion, like that of Charoba when she beheld the sea, was
one of disappointment; his second did more justice to
the case. Never before had he seen a couple dressed
like these; he had struck a new stratum.

" 1 must speak with you alone," said he.

44 You need not mind Mr. Appleby," returned Pit-
man. " He knows all."

41 All ? Do you know what I am here to speak of? "
inquired Morris. • 4 The barrel. "

Pitman turned pale, but it was with manly indigna-
tion. "You are the man!" he cried. "You very
wicked person ! "

"Am I to speak before him?" asked Morris, disre-
garding these severe expressions.

"He has been present throughout," said Pitman.
"He opened the barrel; your guilty secret is already
known to him, as well as to your Maker and myself.' 9

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"Well, then/ 9 said Morris, "what have you done
with the money ? "

"I know nothing about any money/' said Pitman.

"You needn't try that on," said Morris. "I have
tracked you down; you came to the station sacrile-
giously disguised as a clergyman, procured my barrel,
opened it, rifled the body, and cashed the bill. I have
been to the bank, I tell you! I have followed you step
by step, and your denials are childish and absurd."

"Come, come, Morris, keep your temper," said Mr.
Appleby.

" Michael! " cried Morris, " Michael here too! "

"Here too," echoed the lawyer, "here and every-
where, my good fellow ; every step you take is counted ;
trained detectives follow you like your shadow; they
report to me every three-quarters of an hour; no ex-
pense is spared."

Morris's face took on a hue of dirty gray. " Well, I
don't care; I have the less reserve to keep," he cried.
" That man cashed my bill; it's a theft, and I want the
money back."

"Do you think I would lie to you, Morris?" asked
Michael.

"I don't know," said his cousin. "I want my
money."

"It was I alone who touched the body," began
Michael.

"You ? Michael ! " cried Morris, starting back. "Then
why haven't you declared the death ? "

" What the devil do you mean ? " asked Michael

" Am I mad ? or are you ? " cried Morris.

"I think it must be Pitman," said Michael

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PITMAN HEARS OF SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE

The three men stared at each other, wild-eyed.

" This is dreadful/ 9 said Morris, " dreadful. I do not
understand one word that is addressed to me."

" 1 give you my word of honor, no more do I," said
Michael.

" And in God's name, why whiskers ?" cried Morris,
pointing in a ghastly manner at his cousin. " Does my
brain reel ? How whiskers ? "

"Oh, that's a matter of detail," said MichaeL

There was another silence, during which Morris ap-
peared to himself to be shot in a trapeze as high as St
Paul's, and as low as Baker Street Station.

" Let us recapitulate," said Michael, " unless it's really
a dream, in which case I wish Teena would call me for
breakfast My friend Pitman, here, received a barrel
which, it now appears, was meant for you. The barrel
contained the body of a man. How or why you killed
him . . •"

"I never laid a hand on him," protested Morris.
"This is what I have dreaded all along. But think,
Michael! I'm not that kind of man; with all my faults,
I wouldn't touch a hair of anybody's head, and it was
all dead loss to me. He got killed in that vile accident"

Suddenly Michael was seized by mirth so prolonged
and excessive that his companions supposed beyond a
doubt his reason had deserted him. Again and again
he struggled to compose himself, and again and again
laughter overwhelmed him like a tide. In all this mad-
dening interview there had been no more spectral feature
than this of Michael's merriment; and Pitman and Mor-
ris, drawn together by the common fear, exchanged
glances of anxiety.

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" Morris/' gasped the lawyer, when he was at last
able to articulate, "hold on, I see it all now. I can
make it all clear in one word. Here's the key: / never
guessed it was Uncle Joseph till this moment ' '

This remark produced an instant lightening of the
tension for Morris; for Pitman, it quenched the last ray
of hope and daylight Uncle Joseph, whom he had left
an hour ago in Norfolk Street, pasting newspaper cut-
tings? — it? — the dead body? — then who was he, Pit-
man ? and was this Waterloo Station or Colney Hatch ?

"To be sure!" cried Morris; "it was badly smashed,
I know. How stupid not to think of that. Why, then,
all's clear; and, my dear Michael, I'll tell you what—
we're saved, both saved. You get the tontine — I don't
grudge it you the least — and I get the leather business,
which is really beginning to look up. Declare the death
at once, don't mind me in the smallest, don't consider
me; declare the death, and we're all right"

"Ah, but I can't declare it," said Michael.

"Why not?" cried Morris.

"I can't produce the corpus, Morris. I've lost it,"
said the lawyer.

' • Stop a bit, " ejaculated the leather merchant ' ' How
is this ? It's not possible. I lost it"

"Well, I've lost it too, my son," said Michael, with
extreme serenity. "Not recognising it, you see, and
suspecting something irregular in its origin, I got rid
of — what shall we say ? — got rid of the proceeds at
once."

" You got rid of the body ? What made you do
that?" wailed Morris. "But you can get it again?
You know where it is ?"

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PITMAN HEARS OF SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE

" I wish I did, Morris, and you may believe me there,
for it would be a small sum in my pocket; but the fact
is, I don't/' said Michael.

"Good Lord/' said Morris, addressing heaven and
earth, " good Lord, I've lost the leather business."

Michael was once more shaken with laughter.

"Why do you laugh, you fool?" cried his cousin,
" you lose more than I. You've bungled it worse than
even I did. If you had a spark of feeling, you would be
shaking in your boots with vexation. But I'll tell you
one thing — I'll have that eight hundred pound — I'll
have that and go to Swan River — that's mine, anyway,
and your friend must have forged to cash it. Give me
the eight hundred, here, upon this platform, or I go
straight to Scotland Yard and turn the whole disreputa-
ble story inside out."

"Morris," said Michael, laying his hand upon his
shoulder, " hear reason. It wasn't us, it was the other
man. We never even searched the body."

" The other man ?" repeated Morris.

" Yes, the other man. We palmed Uncle Joseph off
upon another man," said Michael.

"You what? You palmed him off? That's surely
a singular expression," said Morris.

" Yes, palmed him off for a piano," said Michael, with
perfect simplicity. "Remarkably full, rich tone," he
added.

Morris carried his hand to his brow and looked at it;
it was wet with sweat. " Fever," said he.

"No, it was a Broad wood grand," said Michael.
"Pitman here will tell you if it was genuine or not"

" Eh ? Oh ! Oh, yes, I believe it was a genuine Broad-
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wood; I have played upon it several times myself said
Pitman. " The three-letter E was broken. "

' ' Don't say anything more about pianos, " said Morris,
with a strong shudder; " I'm not the man I used to be!
This — this other man — let's come to him, if I can only
manage to follow. Who is he ? Where can I get hold
of him?"

" Ah, that's the rub," said Michael " He's been in
possession of the desired article, let me see — since
Wednesday, about four o'clock, and is now, I should
imagine, on his way to the isles of Javan and Godire."

4 'Michael," said Morris, pleadingly, " I am in a very
weak state, and I beg your consideration for a kinsman.
Say it slowly again, and be sure you are correct When
did he get it?"

Michael repeated his statement

" Yes, that's the worst thing yet," said Morris, draw-
ing in his breath.

" What is ?" asked the lawyer.

" Even the dates are sheer nonsense," said the leather
merchant ' ' The bill was cashed on Tuesday. There's
not a gleam of reason in the whole transaction."

A young gentleman, who had passed the trio and
suddenly started and turned back, at this moment laid
a heavy hand on Michael's shoulder.

" Aha, so this is Mr. Dickson ?" said he.

The trump of judgment could scarce have rung with
a more dreadful note in the ears of Pitman and the law-
yer. To Morris this erroneous name seemed a legiti-
mate enough continuation of the nightmare in which he
had so long been wandering. And when Michael, with
his brand-new bushy whiskers, broke from the grasp

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of the stranger and turned to run, and the weird little
shaven creature in the low-necked shirt followed his
example with a bird-like screech, and the stranger (find-
ing the rest of his prey escape him) pounced with a
rude grasp on Morris himself, that gentleman's frame of
mind might be very nearly expressed in the colloquial
phrase: " I told you so!"

" 1 have one of the gang/' said Gideon Forsyth,

"I do not understand/' said Morris, dully.

" Oh, I will make you understand/' returned Gideon,
grimly.

" You will be a good friend to me if you can make
me understand anything," cried Morris, with a sudden
energy of conviction.

" I don't know you personally, do I ? " continued Gid-
eon, examining his unresisting prisoner. ' ' Never mind,
I know your friends. They are your friends, are they
not?"

" I do not understand you," said Morris.

" You had possibly something to do with a piano ?"
suggested Gideon.

"A piano 1" cried Morris, convulsively clasping Gid-
eon by the arm. # ' Then you're the other man ! Where
is it? Where is the body? And did you cash the
draft?"

" Where is the body ? This is very strange," mused
Gideon. " Do you want the body ? "

" Want it ? " cried Morris. " My whole fortune de-
pends upon it! I lost it Where is it? Take me to
it!"

"Oh, you want it, do you? And the other man,
Dickson — does he want it?" inquired Gideon.

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" Who do you mean by Dickson ? Oh, Michael Fins-
bury ! Why, of course he does ! He lost it too. If he
had it he'd have won the tontine to-morrow."

"Michael Finsbury! Not the solicitor?" cried Gid-
eon.

"Yes, the solicitor," said Morris. "But where is
the body?"

" Then that is why he sent the brief ! What is Mr.
Finsbury's private address ? " asked Gideon.

"2}} King's Road. What brief? Where are you
going ? Where is the body ? " cried Morris, clinging to
Gideon's arm.

" I have lost it myself," returned Gideon, and ran out
of the station.

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CHAPTER XV

THE RETURN OF THE GREAT VANCB

Morris returned from Waterloo in a frame of mind
that baffles description. He was a modest man ; he had
never conceived an overweening notion of his own
powers; he knew himself unfit to write a book, turn a
table napkin-ring, entertain a Christmas party with
legerdemain — grapple (in short) any of those conspic-
uous accomplishments that are usually classed under the
head of genius. He knew — he admitted — his parts
to be pedestrian, but he had considered them (until
quite lately) fully equal to the demands of life. And to-
day he owned himself defeated: life had the upper
hand; if there had been any means of flight or place to
flee to, if the world had been so ordered that a man
could leave it like a place of entertainment, Morris
would have instantly resigned all further claim on its
rewards and pleasures, and, with inexpressible content-
ment, ceased to be. As it was, one aim shone before
him : he could get home. Even as the sick dog crawls
under the sofa, Morris could shut the door of John Street
and be alone.

The dusk was falling when he drew near this place
of refuge; and the first thing that met his eyes was the
figure of a man upon the step, alternately plucking at

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the bell-handle and pounding on the panels. The man
had no hat, his clothes were hideous with filth, he had
the air of a hop-picker. Yet Morris knew him; it was
John.

The first impulse of flight was succeeded, in the elder
brother's bosom, by the empty quiescence of despair.
" What does it matter now ? " he thought, and draw-
ing forth his latch-key ascended the steps.

John turned about; his face was ghastly with weari-
ness, and dirt and fury; and as he recognised the head
of his family, he drew in a long rasping breath, and
his eyes glittered.

"Open that door/' he said, standing back.

"I am going to," said Morris, and added, mentally,
" he looks like murder! "

The brothers passed into the hall, the door closed be-
hind them; and suddenly John seized Morris by the
shoulders and shook him as a terrier shakes a rat.
"You mangy little cad," he said, "I'd serve you right
to smash your skull! " And shook him again, so that
his teeth rattled and his head smote upon the wall.

" Don't be violent, Johnny," said Morris. "It can't
do any good now."

"Shut your mouth," said John, "your time's come
to listen."

He strode into the dining-room, fell into the easy-
chair, and taking off one of his burst walking-shoes,
nursed for a while his foot like one in agony. "I'm
lame for life," he said. " What is there for dinner ? "

"Nothing, Johnny," said Morris.

"Nothing ? What do you mean by that ?" inquired
the Great Vance. " Don't set up your chat to me! "

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" I mean simply nothing/' said his brother. " I have
nothing to eat, and nothing to buy it with. I've only
had a cup of tea and a sandwich all this day myself."

"Only a sandwich ?" sneered Vance. "1 suppose
you'xt going to complain next But you had better
take care: I've had all I mean to take; and I can tell
you what it is, I mean to dine and to dine well. Take
your signets and sell them."

"I can't to-day, " objected Morris, " it's Sunday."

"I tell you I'm going to dine!" cried the younger
brother.

"But if it's not possible, Johnny?" pleaded the
other.

" You nincompoop ! " cried Vance. " Ain't we house-
holders ? Don't they know us at that hotel where Uncle
Parker used to come? Be off with you; and if you
ain't back in half an hour, and if the dinner ain't good,
first I'll lick you till you don't want to breathe, and then
I'll go straight to the police and blow the gaff. Do you
understand that, Morris Finsbury ? Because if you do
you had better jump."

The idea smiled even upon the wretched Morris, who
was sick with famine. He sped upon his errand, and
returned to find John still nursing his foot in the arm-
chair.

"What would you like to drink, Johnny ? " he in-
quired, soothingly.

" Fizz," said John. " Some of the poppy stuff from
the end bin; a bottle of the old port that Michael liked,
to follow; and see and don't shake the port. And look
here, light the fire — and the gas, and draw down the
blinds; it's cold and it's getting dark. And then you

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can lay the cloth. And, I say — here, you! bring me
down some clothes."

The room looked comparatively habitable by the time
the dinner came; and the dinner itself was good: strong
gravy soup, filets of sole, mutton chops and tomato
sauce, roast beef done rare with roast potatoes, cabinet
pudding, a piece of Chester cheese, and some early cel-
ery: a meal uncompromisingly British, but supporting.

"Thank Godl " said John, his nostrils sniffing wide,
surprised by joy into the unwonted formality of grace.
" Now I'm going to take this chair with my back to the
fire— there's been a strong frost these two last nights,
and I can't get it out of my bones; the celery will be
just the ticket — I'm going to sit here, and you are go-
ing to stand there, Morris Finsbury, and play butler."

"But, Johnny, I'm so hungry myself," pleaded Morris.

" You can have what I leave," said Vance. " You're
just beginning to pay your score, my daisy; I owe you
one pound ten; don't you rouse the British lion!"
There was something indescribably menacing in the
face and voice of the Great Vance as he uttered these
words, at which the soul of Morris withered. " There ! "
resumed the feaster, "give us a glass of the fizz to start
with. Gravy soup! And 1 thought I didn't like gravy
soup ! Do you know how I got here ? " he asked, with
another explosion of wrath.

"No, Johnny, how could I?" said the obsequious
Morris.

"I walked on my ten toes!" cried John; "tramped
the whole way from Browndean ; and begged ! I would
like to see you beg. It's not so easy as you might sup-
pose. I played it on being a shipwrecked mariner from

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THE RETURN OF THE GREAT VANCE

filyth; I don't know where Blyth is, do you? but I
thought it sounded natural. I begged from a little beast
of a school-boy, and he forked out a bit of twine, and
asked me to make a clove-hitch; I did, too, I know I
did, but he said it wasn't, he said it was a granny's
knot, and I was a what d'ye call em, and he would
give me in charge. Then I begged from a naval officer

— he never bothered me with knots, but he only gave
me a tract; there's a nice account of the British navyl

— and then from a widow woman that sold lollipops,
and I got a hunch of bread from her. Another party I
fell in with said you could generally always get bread;
and the thing to do was to break a plate-glass window
and get into gaol ; seemed rather a brilliant scheme. Pass
the beef."

"Why didn't you stay at Browndean ? " Morris ven-
tured to inquire.

"Skittles!" said John. "On what? The Pink Un
and a measly religious paper ? I had to leave Brown-
dean ; I had to, I tell you. 1 got tick at a public, and
set up to be the Great Vance; so would you, if you were
leading such a beastly existence! And a card stood me
a lot of ale and stuff, and we got swipey, talking about
music-halls and the piles of tin I got for singing; and
then they got me on to sing ' Around her splendid form
I weaved the magic circle,' and then he said I couldn't
be Vance, and I stuck to it like grim death I was. It
was rot of me to sing, of course, but I thought I could
brazen it out with a set of yokels. It settled my hash
at the public," said John, with a sigh. " And then the
last thing was the carpenter "

"Our landlord ? " inquired Morris.

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"That's the party," said John. "He came nosing
about the place, and then wanted to know where the
water-butt was, and the bed-clothes. I told him to go
to the devil ; so would you too, when there was no pos-
sible thing to sayl And then he said I had pawned
them, and did I know it was felony ? Then I made a
pretty neat stroke. I remembered he was deaf, and
talked a whole lot of rot, very politely, just so low he
couldn't hear a word. ' I don't hear you,' says he. ' I
know you don't, my buck, and I don't mean you to/
says I, smiling away like a haberdasher. ' I'm' hard of
hearing/ he roars. ' I'd be in a pretty hot corner if you
weren't/ says I, making signs as if I was explaining
everything. It was tip-top as long as it lasted. ' Well, '
he said, ' I'm deaf, worse luck, but I bet the constable
can hear you.' And off he started one way, and 1 the
other. They got a spirit-lamp, and the Pink Un, and
that old religious paper, and another periodical you sent
me. I think you must have been drunk — it had a
name like one of those spots that Uncle Joseph used to
hold forth at, and it was all full of the most awful
swipes about poetry and the use of the globes. It was
the kind of thing that nobody could read out of a lunatic
asylum. The Atbxntum, that was the name! Golly,
what a paper 1"

"Albenxum, you mean/' said Morris.

" I don't care what you call it," said John, " so as I
don't require to take it in! There, I feel better. Now
I'm going to sit by the fire in the easy chair; pass me
the cheese, and the celery, and the bottle of port — no,
a champagne glass, it holds more. And now you can
pitch in, there's some of the fish left, and a chop, and

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some fizz. Ah," sighed the refreshed pedestrian, " Mi-
chael was right about that port; there's old and vatted
for youl Michael's a man I like; he's clever and reads
books, and the Atbceneum, and all that; but he's not
dreary to meet, he don't talk Atbmneum like the other
parties; why, the most of them would throw a blight
over a skittle alley 1 Talking of Michael, I ain't bored
myself to put the question, because of course I knew it
from the first You've made a hash of it, eh ?"

"Michael made a hash of it," said Morris, flushing
dark.

"What have we got to do with that?" inquired
John.

" He has lost the body, that's what we have to do
with it," cried Morris. " He has lost the body, and the
death can't be established."

" Hold on," said John. " I thought you didn't want
to?"

"Oh, we're far past that," said his brother. "It's
not the tontine now, it's the leather business, Johnny;
it's the clothes upon our back."

"Stow the slow music," said John, "and tell your
story from beginning to end."

Morris did as he was bid.

"Well, now, what did I tell you?" cried the Great
Vance, when the other had done. " But I know one
thing; I'm not going to be humbugged out of my
property."

"I should like to know what you mean to do," said
Morris.

"I'll tell you that," responded John, with extreme
decision. " I'm going to put my interests in the hands

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of the smartest lawyer in London; and whether you go
to quod or not is a matter of indifference to me."

"Why, Johnny, we're in the same boat!" expostu-
lated Morris.

"Are we?" cried his brother. "I bet we're not!
Have I committed forgery ? have I lied about Uncle Jo-
seph ? have I put idiotic advertisements in the comic
papers ? have I smashed other people's statues ? I like
your cheek, Morris Finsbury. No, I've let you run my
affairs too long; now they shall go to Michael. I like
Michael, anyway ; and it's time I understood my situa-
tion."

At this moment the brethren were interrupted by a
ring at the bell, and Morris going timorously to the
door, received from the hands of a commissionnaire a
letter addressed in the hand of Michael. Its contents
ran as follows:

" Morris Finsbury, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of

Something to his Advantage at my office, in Chancery Lane, at 10 a.m.

to-morrow.

"Michael Finsbury."

So utter was Morris's subjection that he did not wait
to be asked, but handed the note to John as soon as he
had glanced at it himself.

' * That's the way to write a letter, " cried John. ' ' No-
body but Michael could have written that"

And Morris did not even claim the credit of priority*

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CHAPTER XVI

FINAL ADJUSTMENT OF THE LEATHER BUSINESS

Finsbury brothers were ushered/ at ten the next morn-
ing, into a large apartment in Michael's office; the Great
Vance, somewhat restored from yesterday's exhaustion,
but with one foot in a slipper; Morris, not positively
damaged, but a man ten years older than he who had
left Bournemouth eight days before, his face ploughed
full of anxious wrinkles, his dark hair liberally grizzled
at the temples.

Three persons were seated at a table to receive them:
Michael in the midst, Gideon Forsyth at his right hand,
on his left an ancient gentleman with spectacles and
silver hair.

"Byjings, it's Uncle Joe!" cried John.

But Morris approached his uncle with a pale counte-
nance and glittering eyes.

"I'll tell you what you didl" he cried. "You ab-
sconded 1"

"Good-morning, Morris Finsbury," returned Joseph,
with no less asperity; "you are looking seriously ill"

"No use making trouble now," remarked Michael.
"Look the facts in the face. Your uncle, as you see,
was not so much as shaken in the accident; a man of
your humane disposition ought to be delighted."

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" Then, if that's so," Morris broke forth, "how about
the body? You don't mean to insinuate that thing I
schemed and sweated for, and colported with my own
hands, was the body of a total stranger?"

"Oh, no, we can't go as far as that, 9 ' said Michael,
soothingly; "you may have met him at the club."

Morris fell into a chair. " I would have found it out
if it had come to the house," he complained. "And
why didn't it ? why did it go to Pitman ? what right
had Pitman to open it ? "

"If you come to that, Morris, what have you done
with the colossal Hercules ?" asked Michael.

" He went through it with the meat-axe," said John.
"It's all in spillikens in the back garden."

"Well, there's one thing," snapped Morris; "there's
my uncle again, my fraudulent trustee. He's mine,
anyway. And the tontine, too. I claim the tontine; I
claim it now. I believe Uncle Masterman's dead."

"I must put a stop to this nonsense," said Michael,
" and that forever. You say too near the truth. In one
sense your uncle is dead, and has been so long; but not
in the sense of the tontine, which it is even on the cards
he may yet live to win. Uncle Joseph saw him this
morning; he will tell you he still lives, but his mind is
in abeyance."

"He did not know me," said Joseph; to do him jus-
tice, not without emotion.

' ' So you're out again there, Morris, " said John. ' ' My
eye, what a fool you've made of yourself ! "

" And that was why you wouldn't compromise," said
Morris.

"As for the absurd position in which you and Uncle

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FINAL ADJUSTMENT OP THB LEATHER BUSINESS

Joseph have been making yourselves an exhibition/ 9 re-
sumed Michael, "it is more than time it came to an end.
I have prepared a proper discharge in full, which you
shall sign as a preliminary."

"What!" cried Morris, "and lose my seven thou-
sand eight hundred pounds, and the leather business,
and the contingent interest, and get nothing ? Thank
you!"

"It's like you to feel gratitude, Morris," began
Michael.

"Oh, I know it's no good appealing to you, you
sneering devil!" cried Morris. "But there's a stranger
present, I can't think why, and I appeal to him. I was
robbed of this money when I was an orphan, a mere
child, at a commercial academy. Since then I've never
had a wish but to get back my own. You may hear a
lot of stuff about me; and there's no doubt at times I
have been ill-advised. But it's the pathos of my situa-
tion; that's what I want to show you."

"Morris," interrupted Michael, "I do wish you would
let me add one point, for I think it will affect your judg-
ment It's pathetic too— since that's your taste in lit-
erature."

"Well, what is it?" said Morris.

"It's only the name of one of the persons who's to
witness your signature, Morris, " replied Michael. " His
name's Moss, my dear."

There was a long silence. " I might have been sure
it was you! " cried Morris.

"You'll sign, won't you ?" said Michael.

"Do you know what you're doing?" cried Morris.
"You're compounding a felony."

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"Very well, then, we won't compound it, Morris/'
returned Michael "See how little I understood the
sterling integrity of your character! I thought you
would prefer it so."

" Look here, Michael," said John, " this is all very fine
and large; but how about me? Morris is gone up, I
see that; but I'm not And I was robbed too, mind
you; and just as much an orphan, and at the blessed
same academy as himself."

"Johnnie," said Michael, "don't you think you'd
better leave it to me?"

" I'm your man," said John. " You wouldn't de-
ceive a poor orphan, I'll take my oath. Morris, you
sign that document, or I'll start in and astonish your
weak mind."

With a sudden alacrity, Morris proffered his willing-
ness; clerks were brought in; the discharge was exe-
cuted; and there was Joseph a free man once more.

"And now," said Michael, "hear what I propose to
do. Here, John and Morris, is the leather business
made over to the pair of you in partnership; I have
valued it at the lowest possible figure, Pogram and
Jarris's. And here is a cheque for the balance of your
fortune. Now you see, Morris, you start fresh from the
Commercial Academy; and as you said yourself the
leather business was looking up, I suppose you'll prob-
ably marry before long. Here's your marriage present;
from a Mr. Moss."

Morris bounded on his check with a crimsoned coun-
tenance.

"I don't understand the performance," remarked
John. " It seems too good to be true."

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FINAL ADJUSTMENT OF THE LEATHER BUSINESS

"It's simply a re-adjustment/' Michael explained.
"I take up Uncle Joseph's liabilities; and if he gets the
tontine, it's to be mine. If my father gets it, it's mine
anyway, you see. So that I'm rather advantageously
placed."

"Morris, my unconverted friend, you've got left,"
was John's comment.

"And now, Mr. Forsyth," resumed Michael, turning
to his silent guest, "here are all the criminals before
you, except Pitman. I really didn't like to interrupt
his scholastic career; but you can have him arrested at
the Seminary: I know his hours. Here we are, then;
we're not pretty to look at; what do you propose to do
with us?"

"Nothing in the world, Mr. Finsbury," returned Gid-
eon. "I seem to understand that this gentleman" —
indicating Morris — " is the fans et origo of the trouble;
and from what I gather, he has already paid through
the nose. And really, to be quite frank, I do not see
who is to gain by any scandal; not I, at least. And
besides, I have to thank you for that brief."

Michael blushed. " It was the least I could do to let
you have some business," he said. "But there's one
thing more. I don't want you to misjudge poor Pit-
man, who is the most harmless being upon earth; 1
wish you would dine with me to-night, and see the
creature on his native heath — say, at Verrey's?"

"I have no engagement, Mr. Finsbury," replied Gid-
eon. "I shall be delighted. But — subject to your
judgment — can we do nothing for the man in the cart?
I have qualms of conscience."

"Nothing but sympathise," said Michael

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A TRIO AND QUARTETTE
wurrai n oouamkatmii wtth uovd

PART I

THE TRIO

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JtoautT Louis Stiyinsgh akd

Lloyd Osbouuh.

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THE EBB TIDE
CHAPTER I

NIGHT ON THE BEACH

THROUGHOUT the island world of the Pacific,
scattered men of many European races and from
almost every grade of society carry activity and dis-
seminate disease. Some prosper, some vegetate. Some
have mounted the steps of thrones and owned islands
and navies. Others, again, must marry for a livelihood;
a strapping, merry, chocolate-coloured dame supports
them in sheer idleness; and dressed like natives, but
still retaining some foreign element of gait or attitude,
still perhaps with some relic (such as a single eye-glass)
of the officer and gentleman, they sprawl in palm-leaf
verandas, and entertain an island audience with memoirs
of the music-hall. And there are still others, less pli-
able, less capable, less fortunate, perhaps less base, who
continue, even in these isles of plenty, to lack bread.

At the far end of the town of Papeete, three such men
were seated on the beach, under a purao tree.

It was late. Long ago the band had broken up and
marched musically home, a motley troop of men and

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THE EBB TIDE

women, merchant-clerks and navy officers dancing in
its wake, arms about waist and crowned with garlands.
Long ago darkness and silence had gone from house to
house about the tiny pagan city. Only the street lamps
shone on, making a glow-worm halo in the umbrageous
alleys, or drawing a tremulous image on the waters of
the port A sound of snoring ran among the piles of
lumber by the Government pier. It was wafted ashore
from the graceful, clipper-bottomed schooners, where
they lay moored close in like dinghies, and their crews
were stretched upon the deck, under the open sky, or
huddled in a rude tent amidst the disorder of merchan-
dise.

But the men under the purao had no thought of sleep.
The same temperature in England would have passed
without remark in summer; but it was bitter cold for
the South Seas. Inanimate nature knew it, and the
bottle of cocoanut oil stood frozen in every bird-cage
house about the island; and the men knew it, and shiv-
ered. They wore flimsy cotton clothes, the same they
had sweated in by day and run the gantlet of the tropic
showers ; and to complete their evil case, they had had
no breakfast to mention, less dinner, and no supper at
all.

In the telling South Sea phrase, these three men were
on the bench. Common calamity had brought them
acquainted, as the three most miserable English-speak-
ing creatures in Tahiti; and beyond their misery, they
knew next to nothing of each other, not even their true
names. For each had made a long apprenticeship in
going downward; and, each at some stage of the de-
scent, had been shamed into the adoption of an alias.

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NIGHT ON THE BEACH

And yet not one of them had figured in a court of jus-
tice. Two were men of kindly virtues; and one, as he
sat and shivered under the purao, had a tattered Virgil
in his pocket

Certainly, if money could have been raised upon the
book, Robert Herrick would long ago have sacrificed
that last possession. But the demand for literature,
which is so marked a feature in some parts of the South
Seas, extends not so far as the dead tongues; and the
Virgil, which he could not exchange against a meal,
had often consoled him in his hunger. He would study
it, as he lay with tightened belt on the floor of the old
calaboose, seeking favourite passages, and finding new
ones only less beautiful because they lacked the conse-
cration of remembrance. Or he would pause on random
country walks, sit on the pathside, gazing over the sea,
on the mountains of Eimeo, and. dip into the yEneid,
seeking sortes. And if the oracle (as is the way of
oracles) replied with no very certain or encouraging
voice, visions of England, at least, would throng upon
the exile's memory, — the busy schoolroom; the green
playing-fields; holidays at home, and the perennial roar
of London; and the fireside, and the white head of his
father. For it is the destiny of those grave, restrained,
and classic writers, with whom we make enforced and
often painful acquaintanceship at school, to pass into the
blood and become native in the memory; so that a
phrase of Virgil speaks not so much of Mantua or Au-
gustus, but of English places and the student's own ir-
revocable youth.

Robert Herrick was the son of an intelligent, active,
and ambitious man, small partner in a considerable Lon-

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THE EBB TIDE

don house. Hopes were conceived of the boy; he was
sent to a good school, gained there an Oxford scholar-
ship, and proceeded in course to the Western university.
With all his talent and taste (and he had much of both)
Robert was deficient in consistency and intellectual man-
hood, wandered in by-paths of study, worked at music
or at metaphysics when he should have been at Greek,
and took at last a paltry degree. Almost at the same
time the London house was disastrously wound up; Mr.
Herrick must begin the world again as a clerk in a
strange office, and Robert relinquish his ambitions, and
accept with gratitude a career that he detested and de-
spised. He had no head for figures, no interest in af-
fairs, detested the constraint of hours, and despised the
aims and the success of merchants. To grow rich was
none of his ambitions; rather to do well. A worse or
a more bold young man would have refused the destiny;
perhaps tried his fortune with his pen ; perhaps enlisted.
Robert, more prudent, possibly more timid, consented
to embrace that way of life in which he could most
readily assist his family. But he did so with a mind di-
vided; fled the neighbourhood of former comrades, and
chose, out of several positions placed at his disposal, a
clerkship in New York.

His career thenceforth was one of unbroken shame.
He did not drink, he was exactly honest, he was never
rude to his employers, yet was everywhere discharged.
Bringing no interest to his duties, he brought no atten-
tion ; his day was a tissue of things neglected and things
done amiss ; and from place to place, and from town to
town, he carried the character of one thoroughly incom-
petent No man can hear the word applied to him

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without some flush of colour, as indeed there is none
other that so emphatically slams in a man's face the door
of self-respect And to Herrick, who was conscious of
talents and acquirements, who looked down upon those
humble duties in which he was found wanting, the pain
was the more exquisite. Early in his fall he had ceased
to be able to make remittances; shortly after, having
nothing but failure to communicate, he ceased writing
home; and about a year before his tale begins, turned
suddenly upon the streets of San Francisco by a vulgar
and infuriated German Jew, he had broken the last bonds
of self-respect, and upon a sudden impulse, changed his
name, and invested his last dollar in a passage on the
mail brigantine, the City of Papeete; With what ex-
pectation he had trimmed his flight for the South Seas,
Herrick perhaps scarcely knew. Doubtless there were
fortunes to be made in pearl and copra; doubtless others,
not more gifted than himself, had climbed in the island
world to be queens' consorts and kings' ministers. But
if Herrick had gone there with any manful purpose, he
would have kept his father's name; the alias betrayed
his moral bankruptcy; he had struck his flag; he enter-
tained no hope to reinstate himself or help his strait-
ened family; and he came to the islands (where he knew
the climate to be soft, bread cheap, and manners easy) a
skulker from life's battle and his own immediate duty.
Failure, he had said, was his portion ; let it be a pleasant
failure.

It is fortunately not enough to say, " I will be base."
Herrick continued in the islands his career of failure;
but in the new scene, and under the new name, he
suffered no less sharply than before. A place was got,

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THB EBB TIDE

it was lost in the old style. Prom the long-suffering of
the keepers of restaurants, he fell to more open charity
upon the wayside; as time went on, good nature be-
came weary, and, after a repulse or two, Herrick be-
came shy. There were women enough who would
have supported a far worse and a far uglier man; Her-
rick never met or never knew them; or if he did both,
some manlier fedling would revolt, and he preferred
starvation. Drenched with rains, broiling by day,
shivering by night, a disused and ruinous prison for a
bedroom, his diet begged or pilfered out of rubbish
heaps, his associates two creatures equally outcast with
himself, he had drained for months the cup of penitence.
He had known what it was to be resigned, what it was
to break forth in a childish fury of rebellion against
fate, and what it was to sink into the coma of despair.
The time had changed him. He told himself no longer
tales of an easy and perhaps agreeable declension; he
read his nature otherwise; he had proved himself in-
capable of rising, and he now learned by experience
that he could not stoop to fall. Something that was
scarcely pride or strength, that was perhaps only refine-
ment, withheld him from capitulation; but he looked
on upon his own misfortune with a growing rage, and
sometimes wondered at his patience.

It was now the fourth month completed, and still
there was no change or sign of change. The moon,
racing through a world of flying clouds of every size
and shape and density, some black as inkstains, some
delicate as lawn, threw the marvel of her Southern
brightness over the same lovely and detested scene, —
the island mountains crowned with the perennial island

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NIGHT ON THE BEACH

cloud, the embowered city studded with rare lamps,
the masts in the harbour, the smooth mirror of the lagoon,
and the mole of the barrier-reef on which the breakers
whitened. The moon shone, too, with bull's-eye
sweeps, on his companions, — on the stalwart frame
of the American who cajled himself Brown, and was
known to be a master-mariner in some disgrace; and
on the dwarfish person, the pale eyes, and toothless
smile of a vulgar and bad-hearted cockney clerk. Here
was society for Robert Herrickl The Yankee skipper
was a man at least; he had sterling qualities of tender-
ness and resolution ; he was one whose hand you could
take without a blush. But there was no redeeming grace
about the other, who called himself sometimes Hay and
sometimes Tomkins, and laughed at the discrepancy;
who had been employed in every store in Papeete, for
the creature was able in his way; who had been dis-
charged from each in turn, for he was wholly vile; who
had alienated all his old employers, so that they passed
him in the street as if he were a dog, and all his old
comrades, so that they shunned him as they would a
creditor.

Not long before, a ship from Peru had brought an in-
fluenza, and it now raged in the island, and particularly
in Papeete. From all round the purao arose and fell a
dismal sound of men coughing, and strangling as they
coughed. The sick natives, with the islander's impa-
tience of a touch of fever, had crawled from their houses
to be cool, and, squatting on the shore or on the beached
canoes, painfully expected the new day. Even as the
crowing of cocks goes about the country in the night,
from farm to farm, accesses of cqpghing arose, and spread,

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" Double-eagles, wasn't it?" inquired the captain.

I • That was what it was 1 " cried Herrick. • ' I thought
they seemed unusually big, and I remember now I had
to go to the money changers at Charing Cross and get
English silver."

" Oh, you went then ? " said the clerk. " Wot did
you do ? Bet you had a B. and S. I "

" Well, you see, it was just as the old boy said, like
the cut of a whip," said Herrick. "The one minute 1
was here on the beach at three in the morning, the next
I was in front of the Golden Cross at midday. At first
I was dazzled, and covered my eyes, and there didn't
seem the smallest change; the roar of the Strand and
the roar of the reef were like the same; hark to it now,
and you can hear the cabs and the 'busses rolling and
the streets resound! And then at last I would look
about, and there was the old place and no mistake, with
the statues in the square, and St Martin's-in-the-Fields,
and the bobbies, and the sparrows, and the hacks; and
I can't tell you what I felt like. I felt like crying, I be-
lieve, or dancing, or jumping clean over the Nelson col-
umn. I was like a fellow caught up out of hell and
flung down into the dandiest part of heaven. Then 1
spotted for a hansom with a spanking horse. ' A shil-
ling for yourself if you're there in twenty minutes,'
said I to the jarvey. He went a good pace, though, of
course, it was a trifle to the carpet; and in nineteen
minutes and a half I was at the door."

II What door?" asked the captain.

"Oh, a house I know of," returned Herrick.
"Bet it was a public house I" cried the clerk —
only these were not his words. "And w'y didn't

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you take the carpet there instead of trundling in a
growler ? "

" I didn't want to startle a quiet street," said the nar-
rator. "Bad form. And besides, it was a hansom."

"Well, and what did you do next?" inquired the
captain.

"Oh, I went in," said Herrick.

"The old folks ?" asked the captain.

"That's about it," said the other, chewing a grass.

"Well, I think you are about the poorest 'and at a
yarn! " cried the clerk. " Crikey, it's like ' Ministering
Children.' I can tell you there would be more beer and
skittles about my little jaunt. I would go and have a
B. and S. for luck. Then I would get a big ulster with
astrakhan fur, and take my cane, and do the la-de-da
down Piccadilly. Then I would go to a slap-up res-
taurant, and have green peas and a bottle of fizz and a
chump chop — Oh! and I forgot, I'd 'ave some devilled
w'itebait first, and green gooseberry tart, and 'ot coffee,
and some of that form of vice in big bottles with a seal
— Benedictine — that's the bloomin' nyme! Then I'd
drop into a theatre, and pal on with some chappies, and
do the dancing-rooms and bars and that, and wouldn't
go 'ome till morning, till d'ylight doth appear. And the
next d'y I'd 'ave water-creases, 'am, muffin, and fresh
butter; wouldn't I just ? Oh, my ! "

The clerk was interrupted by a fresh attack of
coughing.

"Well, now, I'll tell you what I would do," said the
captain. " I would have none of your fancy rigs with
the man driving from the mizzen cross-trees, but a plain
fore-and-aft hack cab of the highest registered tonnage.

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First of all, I would bring up at the market and get a
turkey and a sucking pig. Then I'd go to a wine mer-
chant s and get a dozen of champagne and a dozen of
some sweet wine, rich and sticky and strong, some-
thing in the port or Madeira line, the best in the store.
Then I'd bear up for a toy store, and lay out twenty dol-
lars in assorted toys for the piccaninnies; and then to a
confectioner's and take in cakes and pies and fancy
bread, and that stuff with the plums in it; and then to
a news agency, and buy all the papers — all the picture
ones for the kids, and all the story papers for the old
girl: about the Earl discovering himself to Anna Maria,
and the escape of the Lady Maude from the Private Mad-
house; and then I'd tell the fellow to drive home."

"There ought to be some syrup for the kids," sug-
gested Herrick. "They like syrup."

" Yes, syrup for the kids, red syrup at that! " said the
captain. " And those things they pull at and go pop,
and have measly poetry inside. And then I tell you
we'd have a Thanksgiving Day and Christmas tree com-
bined. Great Scott, but I would like to see the kids!
I guess they would light right out of the house when
they saw daddy driving up. My little Adar "

The captain stopped sharply.

"Well, keep it up," said the clerk.

"The damned thing is, I don't know if they are n't
starving! " cried the captain.

" They can't be worse off than we are, and that's one
comfort, " returned the clerk. " I defy the devil to make
me worse off."

It seemed as if the detfl heard him. The light of the
moon had been some time cut off, and they had talked

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NIGHT ON THE BEACH

in darkness. Now there was heard a roar, which drew
impetuously nearer; the face of the lagoon was seen to
whiten, and, before they had staggered to their feet, a
squall burst in rain upon the outcasts. The rage and
volume of that avalanche, one must have lived in the
tropics to conceive; a man panted in its assault as he
might pant under a shower bath ; and the world seemed
whelmed in night and water.

They fled, groping for their usual shelter — it might
be almost called their home — in the old calaboose ; came
drenched into its empty chambers, and lay down, three
sops of humanity, on the cold coral floors. And pres-
ently, when the squall was overpassed, the others could
hear in the darkness the chattering of the clerk's teeth.

14 1 sajr, you fellows," he wailed, "for God's sake lie
up and try to warm me. I'm blymed if I don't think
rildie.dse!"

So the three crept together into one wet mass, and
lay until day came, shivering and dozing off, and contin-
ually reawakened to wretchedness by the coughing of
the clerk.

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CHAPTER II

MORNING ON THE BEACH. — THE THREE LETTERS

The clouds were all fled, the beauty of the tropic day
was spread upon Papeete; and the wall of breaking
seas upon the reef, and the palms upon the islet, already
trembled in the heat. A French man-of-war was going
out that morning, homeward bound ; she lay in the mid-
dle distance of the port, an ant-heap for activity. In the
night a schooner had come in, and now lay far out, hard
by the passage ; and the yellow flag, the emblem of pes-
tilence, flew on her. From up the coast a long proces-
sion of canoes headed round the point and toward the
market, bright as a scarf with the many-coloured cloth-
ing of the natives and the piles of fruit But not even
the beauty and the welcome warmth of the morning,
not even these naval movements, so interesting to sail-
ors and to idlers, could engage the attention of the out-
casts. They were still cold at heart, their mouths sour
from the want of sleep, their steps rambling from the
lack of food ; and they strung like lame geese along the
beach in a disheartened silence. It was towards the
town they moved ; towards the town whence smoke
arose, where happier folk were breakfasting; and as
they went, their hungry eyes were upon all sides, but
they were only scouting for a meal.

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MORNING ON THE BEACH

A small and dingy schooner lay snug against the quay,
with which it was connected by a plank. On the for-
ward deck, under a spot of awning, five Kanakas, who
made up the crew, were squatted round a basin of fried
feis x and drinking coffee from tin mugs.

"Eight bells; knock off for breakfast 1" cried the
captain with a miserable heartiness. "Never tried this
craft before; positively my first appearance; guess Til
draw a bumper house. "

He came close up to where the plank rested on the
grassy quay, turned his back upon the schooner, and
began to whistle that lively air, "The Irish Washer-
woman." It caught the ears of the Kanaka seamen like
a preconcerted signal. With one accord they looked
up from their meal and crowded to the ship's side, fei
in hand, and munching as they looked. Even as a poor
brown Pyrenean bear dances in the streets of English
towns under his master's baton, even so, but with how
much more of spirit and precision, the captain footed it
in time to his own whistling, and his long morning
shadow capered beyond him on the grass. The Ka-
nakas smiled on the performance; Herrick looked on
heavy-eyed, hunger for the moment conquering all
sense of shame; and a little farther off, but still hard by,
the clerk was torn by the seven devils of the influenza.

The captain stopped suddenly, appeared to perceive
his audience for the first time, and represented the part
of a man surprised in a private hour of pleasure.

"Hello!" said he.

The Kanakas clapped hands and called upon him, to
go on.

*F$i is the hill banana.
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"No, sir!" said the captain. "No eat, no dance.
Savvy?"

" Poor old man ! " returned one of the crew. " Him
no eat ? "

" Lord, no! " said the captain. " Like-um too much
eat No got"

" All right Me got," said the sailor. " You tome
here. Plenty toffee, plenty fei. Nutha man him tome
too."

" I guess we'll drop right in," observed the captain;
and he and his companions hastened up the plank.
They were welcomed on board with the shaking of
hands; place was made for them about the basin; a
sticky demijohn of molasses was added to the feast in
honor of company, and an accordion brought from the
forecastle, and significantly laid by the performer's
side.

"Ariana," 1 said he, lightly touching the instrument
as he spoke; and he fell to on a long savory fei, made an
end of it, raised his mug of coffee, and nodded across at
the spokesman of the crew. " Here's your health, old
man. You're a credit to the South Pacific," said he.

With the unsightly greed of hounds they glutted
themselves with the hot food and coffee; and even the
clerk revived and the colour deepened in his eyes. The
kettle was drained, the basin cleaned ; their entertainers,
who had waited on their wants throughout with the
pleased hospitality of Polynesians, made haste to bring
forward a dessert of island tobacco and rolls of pandanus
leaf to serve as paper, and presently all sat about the
dishes, puffing like Indian sachems.

1 By and by.

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MORNING ON THE BEACH

" When a man 'as breakfast every day, he don't know
wot it is," observed the clerk.

"The next point is dinner," said Herrick; and then
with a passionate utterance: "I wish to God I was a
Kanaka!"

"There's one thing sure," said the captain. "I'm
about desperate. I'd rather hang than rot here much
longer." And with the word he took the accordion and
struck up "Home, Sweet Home."

' ' Oh, drop that ! " cried Herrick. * ' I can't stand that. "

"No more can I," said the captain. "I've got to
play something, though; got to pay the shot, my son."
And he struck up "John Brown's Body" in a fine, sweet
baritone; "Dandy Jim of Carolina" came next; "Rosin
the Bow," "Swing low, sweet chariot," and "The Beau-
tiful Land " followed. The captain was paying his shot
with usury, as he had done many a time before; many
a meal had he bought with the same currency from the
melodious-minded natives, always, as now, to their
delight

He was in the middle of "Fifteen dollars in the inside
pocket," singing with dogged energy, for the task went
sore against the grain, when a sensation was suddenly
to be observed among the crew.

"Tapena Tom harry my," 1 said the spokesman,
pointing.

And the three beach-combers, following his indica-
tion, saw the figure of a man in pyjama trousers and a
white jumper approaching briskly from the town.

" That's Tapena Tom, is it ? " said the captain, paus-
ing in his music. " I don't seem to place the brute."
1 Captain Tom is coming.
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THE EBB TIDE

And here is what he wrote : —

" Emma, — I have scratched out the beginning to my father, for I
think I can write more easily to you. This is my last farewell to all;
the last you will ever hear or see of an unworthy friend and son. 1
have failed in life. I am quite broken down and disgraced. I pass
under a false name. You will have to tell my father that, with all your
kindness. It is my own fault. I know, had I chosen, that I might
have done well; and yet, I swear to you, I tried to choose. I could not
bear that you should think 1 did not try. For I loved you all; you
must never doubt me in that, you least of all. I have always unceas-
ingly loved; but what was my love worth, and what was 1 worth ? I
had not the manhood of a common clerk. I could not work to earn
you. I have lost you now, and for your sake 1 could be glad of it.
When you first came to my father's house — do you remember those
days? I want you to — you saw the best of me then, all that was
good in me. Do you remember the day I took your hand and would
not let it go ? And the day on Battersea Bridge, when we were look-
ing at a barge, and 1 began to tell one of my silly stories, and broke ofT
to say I loved you ? That was the beginning, and now here is the end.
When you have read this letter, you will go round and kiss them all good-
by — my father and mother, and the children, one by one, and poor uncle;
and tell them all to forget me, and forget me yourself. Turn the key
in the door; let no thought of me return; be done with the poor ghost
that pretended he was a man and stole your love. Scorn of myself
grinds in me as I write. I should tell you 1 am well and happy and
want for nothing. I do not exactly make money, or I should send a
remittance; but I am well cared for, have friends, live in a beautiful
place and climate, such as we have dreamed of together, and no pity
need be wasted oti me. In such places, you understand, it is easy to
live, and live well, but often hard to make sixpence in money. Explain
this to my father; he will understand. I have no more to say; only
linger, going out, like an unwilling guest. God in heaven bless you!
Think of me, at the last, here, on a bright beach, the sky and sea im-
moderately blue, and the great breakers roaring outside on a barrier-
reef, where a little isle sits green with palms. I am well and strong.
It is a more pleasant way to die than if you were crowding about me
on a sick-bed. And yet I am dying. This is my last kiss. Forgive*

forget, the unworthy."

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MORNING ON THE BEACH

So far he had written ; his paper was all filled, when
there returned a memory of evenings at the piano, and
that song, the masterpiece of love, in which so many
have found the expression of their dearest thoughts:
Einst, O Wunder! he added. More was not required ;
he knew that, in his love's heart, the context would
spring up, escorted with fair images and harmony; of
how all through life her name should tremble in his
ears, her name be everywhere repeated in the sounds
of nature; and when death came and he lay dissolved,
her memory linger and thrill among his elements.

14 Once, O wonder! once from the ashes of my heart
Arose a blossom "

Herrick and the captain finished their letters about
the same time; each was breathing deep, and their eyes
met and were averted as they closed the envelopes.

"Sorry I write so big," said the captain, gruffly.
"Came all of a rush, when it did come."

"Same here," said Herrick. "1 could have done
with a ream when I got started ; but it's long enough
for all the good I had to say."

They were still at the addresses when the clerk
strolled up, smirking, and twirling his envelope, like
a man well pleased. He looked over Herrick's shoulder.

" Hullo," he said, "you ain't writing *ome."

"I am, though," said Herrick. "She lives with my
father. Oh, I see what you mean," he added. "My
real name is Herrick. No more Hay" — they had both
used the same alias — " no more Hay than yours, I dare
say."

"Clean bowled in the middle stump," laughed the
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THE EBB TIDE

clerk. "My name's 'Uish, if you want to know.
Everybody has a false nyme in the Pacific. Lay you
five to three the captain 'as."

"So I have, too/ 1 replied the captain, " and I've never
told my own since the day I tore the title-page out of
my Bowditch and flung the damned thing into the sea.
But I'll tell it to you, boys. John Davis is my name.
I'm Davis of the Sea Ranger: 9

" Dooce you are I " said Huish. " And what was she,
a pirate or a slyver?"

" She was the fastest barque out of Portland, Maine,"
replied the captain; "and for the way I lost her, I might
as well have bored a hole in her side with an auger."

" Oh, you lost her, did you ?" said the clerk. "'Ope
she was insured."

No answer being returned to this sally, Huish, still
brimming over with vanity and conversation, struck
into another subject.

"I've a good mind to read you my letter," said he.
"I've a good fist with a pen when I choose, and this is
a prime lark. She was a barmaid I ran across in North-
ampton; she was a spanking fine piece, no end of style;
and we cottoned at first sight like parties in the play. I
suppose 1 spent the chynge of a fiver on that girl Well,
I 'appened to remember her nyme, so I wrote to her, and
told her 'ow I had got rich, and married a queen in the
Hislands, and lived in a blooming palace. Such a sight
of crammers ! I must read you one bit about my opening
the nigger parliament in a cocked 'at It's really prime. "

The captain jumped to his feet. "That's what you
did with the paper that I went and begged for you ? " he
roared.

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MORNING ON THE BEACH

It was perhaps lucky for Huish — it was surely in the
end unfortunate for all — that he was seized just then
by one of his prostrating accesses of cough ; his com-
rades would have else deserted him, so bitter was their
resentment. When the fit had passed, the clerk reached
out his hand, picked up the letter, which had fallen to
the earth, and tore it into fragments, stamp and all

11 Does that satisfy you ? " he asked sullenly.

"We'll say no more about it/ 9 replied Davis.

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THE EBB TIDE

had dug his grave that morning; now he had carved his
epitaph; the folds of the toga were composed, why
should he delay the insignificant trifle that remained to
do ? He paused and looked long in the face of the
sleeping Huish, drinking disenchantment and distaste of
life. He nauseated himself with that vile countenance.
Could the thing continue? What bound him now?
Had he no rights ? Only the obligation to go on, with-
out discharge or furlough, bearing the unbearable ? Icb
trage unertrdglicbes; the quotation rose in his mind.
He repeated the whole piece, one of the most perfect
of the most perfect of poets; and a phrase struck him
like a blow : Du, stores Her%, du bast u ja gewoUt.
Where was the pride of his heart? And he raged
against himself, as a man bites on a sore tooth, in a
heady sensuality of scorn. "I have no pride, I have
no heart, no manhood," he thought, "or why should
I prolong a life more shameful than the gallows ? Or
why should I have fallen to it ? No pride, no capacity,
no force. Not even a bandit And to be starving here
with worse than banditti — with this trivial hell-hound ! "
His rage against his comrade rose and flooded him, and
he shook a trembling fist at the sleeper.

A swift step was audible. The captain appeared
upon the threshold of the cell, panting and flushed, and
with a foolish face of happiness. In his arms he carried
a loaf of bread and bottles of beer; the pockets of his
coat were bulging with cigars. He rolled his treasures
on the floor, grasped Herrick by both hands, and
crowed with laughter.

" Broach the beer! " he shouted. ,f Broach the beer,
and glory hallelujah ! "

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THE OLD CALABOOSE

" Beer ?" repeated Huish, struggling to his feet

" Beer it is! " cried Davis. " Beer, and plenty of it
Any number of persons can use it (like Lyon's tooth
tablet) with perfect propriety and neatness. Who's to
officiate?"

"Leave me alone for that/' said the clerk. He
knocked the necks off with a lump of coral, and each
drank in succession from the shell.

11 Have a weed ? " said Davis. " It's all in the bill."

11 What is up ?" asked Herrick.

The captain fell suddenly grave. "I'm coming to
that," said he. "I want to speak with Herrick here.
You, Hay — or Huish, or whatever your name is— you
take a weed and the other bottle, and go and see how
the wind is down by the purao. I'll call you when
you're wanted."

1 ' Hey ? Secrets ? That ain't the ticket, " said Huish.

" Look here, my son," said the captain, "this is busi-
ness, and don't you make any mistake about it. If
you're going to make trouble, you can have it in your
own way and stop right here. Only get the thing right ;
if Herrick and I go, we take the beer. Savvy ?"

"Oh, I don't want to shove my oar in," returned
Huish. "I'll cut right enough. Give me the swipes.
You can jaw till you're blue in the face, for what I care.
I don't think it's the friendly touch; that's all." And
he shambled, grumbling, out of the cell into the staring
sun.

The captain watched him clear of the courtyard, then
turned to Herrick.

"What is it?" asked Herrick, thickly.

" I'll tell you," said Davis. " 1 want to consult you.
»5*

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THB EBB TIDE

It's a chance we've got What's that ? " he cried, point-
ing to the music on the wall.

" What ? " said the other. " Oh, that! It's music;
it's a phrase of Beethoven's I was writing up. It means
destiny knocking at the door."

" Does it ? " said the captain, rather low, and he went
near and studied the inscription; "and this French?"
he asked, pointing to the Latin.

" Oh, it just means I should have been luckier if I had
died at home," returned Herrick impatiently. "What
is this business?"

"Destiny knocking at the door," repeated the cap-
tain; and then, looking over his shoulder, "Well, Mr.
Herrick, that's about what it comes to," he added.

' ' What do you mean ? Explain yourself, " said Herrick.

But the captain was again staring at the music.
" About how long ago since you wrote up this truck ? "
he asked.

' * What does it matter ? " exclaimed Herrick. ' ' I dare
say half an hour."

' ' My God, it's strange I " cried Davis. * ' There's some
men would call that accidental; not me. That — " and
he drew his thick finger under the music — "that's what
I call providence."

" You said we had a chance ?" asked Herrick.

" Yes, sir/ " said the captain, wheeling suddenly face
to face with his companion. " I did so. If you're the
man I take you for, we have a chance."

" I don't know what you take me for," was the reply.
" You can scarce take me too low."

"Shake hands, Mr. Herrick," said the captain. "I
know you. You're a gentleman and a man of spirit. I

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THE OLD CALABOOSE

didn't want to speak before that bummer there; you'll
see why. But to you I'll rip it right out I got a ship."
" A ship ? M cried Herrick. " What ship ? "
"That schooner we saw this morning off the pas-
sage/'
" The schooner with the hospital flag ? "
" That's the hooker, " said Davis. " She's the Faral-
lone, hundred and sixty tons register, out of 'Frisco for
Sydney, in California champagne. Captain, mate, and
one hand all died of small-pox, same as they had round
in the Paumotus, 1 guess. Captain and mate were the
only white men; all the hands Kanakas; seems a queer
kind of outfit from a Christian port. Three of them left
and a cook ; didn't know where they were ; I can't think
where they were either, if you come to that; Wiseman
must have been upon the booze, I guess, to sail the
course he did. However, there be was, dead ; and here
were the Kanakas as good as lost They bummed
around at sea like the babes in the wood, and tumbled
end-on upon Tahiti. The consul here took charge. He
offered the berth to Williams; Williams had never had
the small-pox and backed down. That was when I
came in for the letter-paper. I thought there was some-
thing up when the consul asked me to look in again ;
but I never let on to you fellows, so's you'd not be dis-
appointed. Consul tried M'Neil; scared of small-pox.
He tried Capriati, that Corsican, and Leblue, or what-
ever his name is; wouldn't lay a hand on it; all too
fond of their sweet lives. Last of all, when there
wasn't nobody else left to offer it to, he offers it to
me. ' Brown, will you ship captain and take her to
Sydney ?' says he. ' Let me choose my own mate and

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THE EBB TIDE

and successfully from hand to hand, and there remained
only the more difficult business of embarking Huish.
Even that piece of dead weight (shipped A. B. at eigh-
teen dollars, and described by the captain to the consul
as an invaluable man) was at last hauled on board with-
out mishap, and the doctor, with civil salutations, took
his leave.

The three co-adventurers looked at each other, and
Davis heaved a breath of relief*

" Now let's get this chronometer fixed," said he, and
led the way into the house. It was a fairly spacious
place; two staterooms and a good-sized pantry opened
from the main cabin. The bulk-heads were painted
white, the floor laid with wax-cloth. No litter, no sign
of life remained, for the effects of the dead men had
been disinfected and conveyed on shore. Only on the
table, in a saucer, some sulphur burned, and the fumes
set them coughing as they entered. The captain peered
into the starboard stateroom, where the bedclothes still
lay tumbled in the bunk, the blanket flung back as they
had flung it back from the disfigured corpse before its
burial.

41 Now I told those niggers to tumble that truck over-
board," grumbled Davis. "Guess they were afraid to
lay hands on it Well, they've hosed the place out;
that's as much as can be expected, I suppose. Huish,
lay on to these blankets."

" See you blooming well far enough first," said Huish,
drawing back.

" What's that ? " snapped the captain. " I'll tell you,
my young friend, I think you make a mistake. I'm
captain here."

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THE YELLOW FLAG

" Fat lot I care/' returned the clerk.

' « That so ? " said Davis. * ' Then you'll berth forward
with the niggers! Walk right out of this cabin."

" Oh, I dessay ! " said Huish. " See any green in my
eye? A lark's a lark."

"Well, now, I'll explain this business, and you'll see
(once for all) just precisely how much lark there is to
it," said Davis. " I'm captain, and I'm going to be it
One thing of three. First, you take my orders here as
cabin steward, in which case you mess with us. Or,
second, you refuse, and I pack you forward, and you
get as quick as the word's said. Or, third and last, I'll
signal that man-of-war and send you ashore under ar-
rest for mutiny."

" And of course I wouldn't blow the gaff? Oh, no I "
replied the jeering Huish.

"And who's to believe you, my son ?" inquired the
captain. " No sir! There ain't no lark about my cap-
tainising. Enough said. Up with these blankets."

Huish was no fool, — he knew when he was beaten;
and he was no coward, either, for he stepped to the
bunk, took the infected bed-clothes fairly in his arms, and
carried them out of the house without a check or tremour.

"I was waiting for the chance," said Davis to Her-
rick. "I needn't do the same with you, because you
understand it for yourself."

"Are you going to berth here?" asked Herrick, fol-
lowing the captain into the stateroom, where he began
to adjust the chronometer in its place at the bed-head.

"Not much!" replied he. "I guess I'll berth on
deck. I don't know as I'm afraid, but I've no immedi-
ate use for confluent small-pox."

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"I don't know that I'm afraid either/' said Herrick.
" But the thought of those two men sticks in my throat,
— that captain and mate dying here, one opposite to the
other. It's grim. I wonder what they said last! "

• - Wiseman and Wishart ? " said the captain. ' ' Prob-
ably mighty small potatoes. That's the thing a fellow
figures out for himself one way, and the real business
goes quite another. Perhaps Wiseman said, ' Here, old
man, fetch up the gin; I'm feeling powerful rocky.'
And perhaps Wishart said, 'Oh, hell! ' "

"Well, that's grim enough," said Herrick.

"And so it is," said Davis. "There; there's that
chronometer fixed. And now it's about time to up an-
chor and clear out"

He lit a cigar and stepped on deck.

" Here, you! What's your name ?" he cried to one
of the hands, a lean-flanked, clean-built fellow from
some far Western island, and of a darkness almost ap-
proaching to the African.

"Sally Day," replied the man.

"Devil it is! " said the captain. "Didn't know we
had ladies on board. Well, Sally, oblige me by haul-
ing down that rag there. I'll do the same for you an-
other time." He watched the yellow bunting as it was
eased past the cross-trees and handed down on deck.
"You'll float no more on this ship," he observed.
"Muster the people aft, Mr. Hay," he added, speaking
unnecessarily loud. " I've a word to say to them."

It was with a singular sensation that Herrick prepared
for the first time to address a crew. He thanked his
stars, indeed, that they were natives. But even natives,
he reflected, might be critics too quick for such a novice

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THE YELLOW FUG

as himself; they might perceive some lapse from that
precise and cut-and-dry English which prevails on board
a ship; it was even possible they understood no other;
and he racked his brain, and overhauled his reminis-
ences of sea romance, for some appropriate words.

" Here, men, tumble aft! " he said at last. " Lively
nowl All hands aft!"

They crowded in the alleyway like sheep.

" Here they are, sir," said Herrick.

For some time the captain continued to face the stern,
then turned with ferocious suddenness on the crew,
and seemed to enjoy their shrinking.

"Now," he said, twisting his cigar in his mouth, and
toying with the spokes of the wheel, "I'm Captain
Brown. 1 command this ship. This is Mr. Hay, first
officer. The other white man is cabin steward, but he'll
stand watch and do his trick. My orders shall be obeyed
smartly. You savvy, smartly ? There shall be no growl-
ing about the kaikai, which will be above allowance.
You'll put a handle to the mate's name, and tack on
' sir ' to every order 1 give you. If you're smart and
quick, I'll make this ship comfortable for all hands."
He took the cigar out of his mouth. ' ' If you're not, " he
added, in a roaring voice, "Til make it a floating hell.
Now, Mr. Hay, we'll pick watches, if you please."

"AH right," said Herrick.

"You will please use 'sir' when you address me,
Mr. Hay," said the captain. " I'll take the lady. Step
to starboard, Sally." And then he whispered in Her-
rick's ear: "Take the old man."

"I'll take you there," said Herrick.

" What's your name ? " said the captain. " What's
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that you say ? Oh, that's not English ; I'll have none of
your highway gibberish on my ship. We'll call you old
Uncle Ned, because you've got no wool on the top of
your head, just the place where the wool ought to grow.
Step to port, Uncle. Don't you hear Mr. Hay has picked
you ? Then I'll take the white man. White Man, step
to starboard. Now which of you two is the cook ?
You ? Then Mr. Hay takes your friend in the blue dun-
garee. Step to port, Dungaree. There ! we know who
we all are — Dungaree, Uncle Ned, Sally Day, White
Man, and Cook. All F.F. V.'s, I guess. And now, Mr.
Hay, we'll up anchor, if you please."

" For heaven's sake, tell me some of the words/'
whispered Herrick.

An hour later the FaraUone was under all plain sail,
the rudder hard a-port, and the cheerfully clanking
windlass had brought the anchor home.

11 All clear, sir," cried Herrick, from the bow.

The captain met her with the wheel, as she bounded
like a stag from her repose, trembling and bending to
the puffs. The guard-boat gave a parting hail, the wake
whitened and ran out; the FaraUone was under way.

Her berth had been close to the pass. Even as she
forged ahead, Davis slewed her for the channel between
the pier ends of the reef, the breakers sounding and
whitening to either hand. Straight through the narrow
band of blue she shot to seaward, and the captain's
heart exulted as he felt her tremble under foot, and (look-
ing back over the taff-rail) beheld the roofs of Papeete
changing position on the shore, and the island moun-
tains rearing higher in the wake.

But they were not yet done with the shore and the
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horror of the yellow flag. About midway of the pass
there was a cry and a scurry ; a man was seen to leap
upon the rail, and, throwing his arms over his head, to
stoop and plunge into the sea.

" Steady as she goes/' the captain cried, relinquish-
ing the wheel to Huish.

The next moment he was forward, in the midst of
the Kanakas, belaying-pin in hand.

" Anybody else for shore ? " he cried, and the savage
trumpeting of his voice, no less than the ready weapon
in his hand, struck fear in all. Stupidly they stared after
their escaped companion, whose black head was visible
upon the water, steering for the land. And the schooner
meanwhile slipped like a racer through the pass, and
met the long sea of the open ocean with a souse of
spray.

"Fool that I was, not to have a pistol ready!" ex-
claimed Davis. "Well, we go to sea short-handed;
we can't help that You have a lame watch of it, Mr.
Hay."

" I don't see how we are to get along," said Herrick.

"Got to," said the captain. "No more Tahiti for
me."

Both turned instinctively and looked astern. The fair
island was unfolding, mountain top on mountain top;
Eimeo, on the port board, lifted her splintered pinna-
cles, and still the schooner raced to the open sea.

" Think ! " cried the captain, with a gesture, " yester-
day morning I danced for my breakfast like a poodle
dog."

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THE CARGO OF CHAMPAGNE

The ship's head was laid to clear Eimeo to the north,
and the captain sat down in the cabin with a chart, a
ruler, and an epitome.

"East a half no'the," said he, raising his face from his
labours. "Mr. Hay, you'll have to watch her dead
reckoning. I want every yard she makes on every
hair's breadth of a course. I'm going to knock a hole
right straight through the Paumotus, and that's always
a near touch. Now, if this southeast trade ever blew
out of the southeast, which it don't, we might hope to
lie within half a point of our course. Say we lie within
a point of it That'll just about weather Fakarava. Yes,
sir, that's what we've got to do, if we tack for it Brings
us through this slush of little islands in the cleanest
place; see?" And he showed where his ruler inter-
sected the wide-lying labyrinth of the Dangerous Archi-
pelago. ' ' I wish it was night, and I could put her about
right now; we're losing time and easting. Well, we'll
do our best And if we don't fetch Peru, we'll bring up
to Ecuador. All one, I guess. Depreciated dollars down,
and no questions asked. A remarkable fine institootion,
the South American don."

Tahiti was already some way astern, the Diadem ris-
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THE CARGO OP CHAMPAGNE

ing from among broken mountains; Eimeo was already
close aboard, and stood black and strange against the
golden splendour of the west, when the captain took his
departure from the two islands, and the patent log was set

Some twenty minutes later, Sally Day, who was con-
tinually leaving the wheel to peer in at the cabin clock,
announced in a shrill cry " Fo' Bell," and the cook was
to be seen carrying the soup into the cabin.

"1 guess I'll sit down and have a pick with you,"
said Davis to Herrick. "By the time I've done, it '11
be dark, and we'll clap the hooker on the wind for
South America."

In the cabin, at one corner of the table, immediately
below the lamp, and on the lee side of a bottle of cham-
pagne, sat Huish.

" What's this ? Where did that come from ? " asked
the captain.

' ' It's fizz ; and it came from the after-'old, if you want
to know," said Huish, and drained his mug.

"This'll never do!" exclaimed Davis, the merchant
seaman's horror of breaking into cargo showing Incon-
gruously forth on board that stolen ship. " There was
never any good came of games like that."

" You byby 1 " said Huish. " A fellow would think
(to 'ear him) we were on the square 1 And look 'ere,
you've put this job up 'andsomely for me, 'aven't you ?
I'm to go on deck and steer while you two sit and
guzzle, and I'm to go by a nickname, and got to call
you ' sir ' and ' mister.' Well, you look here, my bloke ;
I'll have fizz ad lib., or it won't wash. I tell you that
And you know mighty well you ain't got any man-of-
war to signal now."

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Davis was staggered. " I'd give fifty dollars this had
never happened," he said weakly.

"Well, it 'as 'appened, you sec," returned Huish.
" Try some; it's devilish good."

The Rubicon was crossed without another struggle.
The captain filled a mug and drank.

"I wish it was beer," he said with a sigh. "But
there's no denying it's the genuine stuff, and cheap at
the money. Now, Huish, you clear out and take your
wheel."

The little wretch had gained a point, and he was
gay. "Ay, ay, sir," said he, and left the others to
their meal.

" Pea soup! " exclaimed the captain. " Blamed if I
thought I should taste pea soup again ! "

Herrick sat inert and silent It was impossible, after
these months of hopeless want, to smell the rough,
high-spiced sea victuals without lust, and his mouth
watered with desire of the champagne. It was no less
impossible to have assisted at the scene between Huish
and the captain, and not to perceive, with sudden blunt-
ness, the gulf wherein he had fallen. He was a thief
among thieves. He said it to himself. He could not
touch the soup. If he had moved at all, it must have
been to leave the table, throw himself overboard, and
drown — an honest man.

"Here," said the captain, "you look sick, old man;
have a drop of this."

The champagne creamed and bubbled in the mug; its
bright color, its lively effervescence seized his eye. " It
is too late to hesitate," he thought His hand took the
mug instinctively; he drank, with unquenchable plea-

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sure and desire of more; drained the vessel dry, and set
it down with sparkling eyes.

" There is something in life after all! " he cried. " I
had forgot what it was like. Yes, even this is worth
while. Wine, food, dry clothes — why, they're worth
dying, worth hanging for! Captain, tell me one thing:
why aren't all the poor folk foot-pads ? "

" Give it up," said the captain.

"They must be damned good," cried Herrick.
"There's something here beyond me. Think of that
calaboose! Suppose we were sent suddenly back!"
He shuddered as though stung by a convulsion, and
buried his face in his clutching hands.

" Here, what's wrong with you?" cried the captain.
There was no reply; only Herrick's shoulders heaved
so that the table was shaken. "Take some more of
this. Here, drink this. I order you to! Don't start
crying when you're out of the wood."

"I'm not crying," said Herrick, raising his face and
showing his dry eyes. " It's worse than crying. It's
the horror of that grave that we've escaped from."

" Come, now, you tackle your soup; that'll fix you,"
said Davis, kindly. " I told you you were all broken
up. You couldn't have stood out another week."

" That's the dreadful part of it ! " cried Herrick. " An-
other week, and I'd have murdered some one for a dol-
lar! God ! and 1 know that ? And I'm still living ? It's
some beastly dream."

"Qyietly, quietly! Qyietly does it, my son. Take
your pea soup. Food — that's what you want," said
Davis.

The soup strengthened and quieted Herrick's nerves;
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another glass of wine, and a piece of pickled pork and
fried banana completed what the soup began, and he
was able once more to look the captain in the face.

" I didn't know I was so much run down/' he said.

"Well/' said Davis, " you were as steady as a rock
all day; now you've had a little lunch, you'll be as
steady as a rock again."

" Yes," was the reply, " I'm steady enough now, but
I'm a queer kind of a first officer."

"Shucks! " cried the captain. " You've only got to
mind the ship's course, and keep your slate to half a
point A babby could do that; let alone a college grad-
uate like you. There ain't nothing to sailoring, when
you come to look it in the face. And now we'll go and
put her about. Bring the slate; well have to start our
dead reckoning right away."

The distance run since the departure was read off the
log by the binnacle light, and entered on the slate.

"Ready about," said the captain. "Give me the
wheel, White Man, and you stand by the mainsheet.
Boom tackle, Mr. Hay, please, and then you can jump
forward and attend head-sails."

"Ay, ay, sir," responded Herrick.

"All clear forward ?" asked Davis.

"All clear, sir."

" Hard a-lee ! " cried the captain. "Haul in your slack
as she comes, " he called to Huish. ' ' Haul in your slack ;
put your back into it; keep your feet out of the coils."
A sudden blow sent Huish flat along the deck, and the
captain was in his place. " Pick yourself up and keep
the wheel hard over! " he roared. " You wooden fool,
you wanted to get killed, I guess. Draw the jib," he

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cried a moment later; and then to Huish, " Give me the
wheel again, and see if you can coil that sheet."

But Huish stood and looked at Davis with an evil
countenance. "Do you know you struck me?" said
he.

" Do you know I saved your life ? " returned the other,
not deigning to look at him ; his eyes travelling, instead,
between the compass and the sails. "Where would
you have been if that boom had swung out and you
bundled in the slack ? No, sir; we'll have no more of
you at the mainsheet. Seaport towns are full of main-
sheet-men; they hop upon one leg, my son, what's left
of them, and the rest are dead. (Set your boom tackle,
Mr. Hay.) Struck you, did I ? Lucky for you I did."

" Well," said Huish, slowly, " I dessay there may be
somethink in that. 'Ope there is." He turned his back
elaborately on the captain, and entered the house, where
the speedy explosion of a champagne cork showed he
was attending to his comfort

Herrick came aft to the captain. " How is she doing
now ? " he asked.

" East and by no'the a half no'the," said Davis. " It's
about as good as I expected."

" What'll the hands think of it ?" said Herrick.

' ' Oh, they don't think. They ain't paid to, " said the
captain.

"There was something wrong, was there not, be-
tween you and " Herrick paused.

"That's a nasty little beast; that's a biter," replied
the captain, shaking his head. " But so long as you and
me hang in, it don't matter."

Herrick lay down in the weather alleyway; the night
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was cloudless; the movement of the ship cradled him;
he was oppressed, besides, by the first generous meal
after so long a time of famine, and he was recalled from
deep sleep by the voice of Davis singing out: "Eight
bells!"

He rose stupidly and staggered aft, where the captain
gave him the wheel

" By the wind," said the captain. " It comes a little
puffy; when you get a heavy puff, steal all you can to
windward, but keep her a good full."

He stepped towards the house, paused, and hailed the
forecastle. " Got such a thing as a concertina forward ? "
said he. "Bully for you, Uncle Ned. Fetch it aft,
will you?"

The schooner steered very easy; and Herrick, watch-
ing the moon-whitened sails, was overpowered by
drowsiness. A sharp report from the cabin startled
him; a third bottle had been opened; and Herrick re-
membered the Sea Ranger and Fourteen Island Group.
Presently the notes of the accordion sounded, and then
the captain's voice:

"O honey, with our pockets full of money,

We will trip, trip, trip, we will trip it on the quay;
And I will dance with Kate, and Tom will dance with Sail,
When we're all back from South Amerikee."

So it went to its quaint air; and the watch below lin-
gered and listened by the forward door, and Uncle Ned
was to be seen in the moonlight nodding time, and Her-
rick smiled at the wheel, his anxieties awhile forgotten.
Song followed song; another cork exploded; there were
voices raised, as though the pair in the cabin were in

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disagreement; and presently it seemed the breach was
healed, for it was now the voice of Huish that struck
up, to the captain's accompaniment: —

" Up in a balloon, boys,
Up in a balloon,
Up among the little stars,
All around the moon."

A wave of nausea overcame Herrick at the wheel.
He wondered why the air, the words (which were yet
written with a certain knack), and the voice and accent
of the singer, should all jar his spirit like a file on a man's
teeth. He sickened at the thought of his two comrades
drinking away their reason upon stolen wine, quarrel-
ling and hiccupping and making up, while the doors of
a prison yawned for them in the near future. " Shall I
have sold my honour for nothing ?" he thought; and a
heat of rage and resolution glowed in his bosom, — rage
against his comrades, resolution to carry through this
business if it might be carried; pluck profit out of
shame, since the shame at least was now inevitable;
and come home, home from South America — how did
the song go ? — " with his pockets full of money."

" O honey, with our pockets full of money,

We will trip, trip, trip, we will trip it on the quay: w —

so the words ran in his head, and the " honey " took on
visible form; the quay rose before him, and he knew it
for the lamplit Embankment, and he saw the lights of
Battersea bridge bestride the sullen river. All through
the remainder of his trick he stood entranced, review-

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ing away again a meal that had been totally condemned.
And the more the captain became sunk in drunkenness,
the more delicate his palate showed itself. Once (in
the forenoon) he had a bo'sun's chair rigged over the
rail, stripped to his trousers, and went overboard with
a pot of paint. " I don't like the way this schooner's
painted," said he, " and I'll take a turn upon her name."
But he tired of it in half an hour, and the schooner went
on her way with an incongruous patch of colour on the
stern, and the word " Farallone " part obliterated and
part looking through. He refused to stand either the
middle or the morning watch. It was fine-weather
sailing, he said; and asked, with a laugh, "Who ever
heard of the old man standing watch himself ? " To the
dead reckoning, which Herrick still tried to keep, he
would pay not the least attention nor afford the least
assistance.

" What do we want of dead reckoning ?" he asked.
11 We get the sun all right, don't we?"

"We mayn't get it always, though," objected Her-
rick. " And you told me yourself you weren't sure of
the chronometer."

"Oh, there ain't no flies on the chronometer! " cried
Davis.

"Oblige me so far, captain," said Herrick, stiffly.
"I am anxious to keep this reckoning, which is a part
of my duty. 1 do not know what to allow for current,
nor how to allow for it I am too inexperienced, and
I beg of you to help me."

"Never discourage zealous officer," said the captain,
unrolling the chart again, for Herrick had taken him
over his day's work, and while he was still partly sober.

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" Here it is; look for yourself; anything from the west-
no'the-west, and anyways from five to twenty-five
miles. That's what the A'm'ralty chart says. 1 guess
you don't expect to get ahead of your own Britishers ? "

" I am trying to do my duty, Captain Brown/' said
Herrick, with a dark flush; "and I have the honour to
inform you that I don't enjoy being trifled with."

"What in thunder do you want?" roared Davis.
" Go and look at the blamed wake. If you're trying to
do your duty, why don't you go and do it ? I guess it's
no business of mine to go and stick my head over the
ship's rump. I guess it's yours. And I'll tell you
what it is, my fine fellow, I'll trouble you not to come
the dude over me. You're insolent; that's what's
wrong with you. Don't you crowd me, Mr. Herrick,
Esquire."

Herrick tore up his papers, threw them on the floor,
and left the cabin.

"He's turned a bloomin' swot, ain't he?" sneered
Huish.

4 'He thinks himself too good for his company; that's
what ails Herrick, Esquire," raged the captain. "He
thinks I don't understand when he comes the heavy
swell. Won't sit down with us, won't he? Won't
say a civil word ? I'll serve the son of a gun as he de-
serves. By God, Huish, I'll show him whether he's
too good for John Davis 1 "

" Easy with the names, Cap'," said Huish, who was
always the more sober. "Easy over the stones, my
boy!"

" AH right, I will. You're a good sort, Huish. I
didn't take to you at first, but I guess you're right

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enough. Le's open another bottle/' said the captain;
and that day, perhaps because he was excited by the
quarrel, he drank more recklessly, and by four o'clock
was stretched insensible upon the locker.

Merrick and Huish supped alone, one after the other,
opposite his flushed and snorting body. And if the
sight killed Merrick's hunger, the isolation weighed so
heavily on the clerk's spirit that he was scarce risen
from table ere he was currying favour with his former
comrade.

Merrick was at the wheel when he approached, and
Huish leaned confidentially across the binnacle.

"I say, old chappie," he said, "you and me don't
seem to be such pals, somehow."

Herrick gave her a spoke or two in silence; his eye,
as it skirted from the needle to the luff of the foresail,
passed the man by without speculation. But Huish
was really dull, a thing he could support with difficulty,
having no resources of his own. The idea of a private
talk with Herrick, at this stage of their relations, held
out particular inducements to a person of his character.
Drink, besides, as it renders some men hyper-sensitive,
made Huish callous; and it would almost have required
a blow to make him quit his purpose.

11 Pretty business, ain't it ? " he continued. " Dyvis
on the lush! Must say 1 thought you gave it 'im A-one
to-day. He didn't like it a bit ; took on hawful after you
were gone. ' 'Ere,' says I, ' 'old on ; easy on the lush,'
I says. ' 'Errick was right, and you know it. Give
*im a chanst,' I says. "Uish,' sezee, 'don't you gim-
me no more of your jaw, or I'll knock your bloomin'
eyes out.' Well, wot can 1 do, 'Errick ? But I tell you,

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1 don't 'arf like it. It looks to me like the Sea Ryngef
over again."

Still Herrick was silent.

"Do you 'ear me speak?" asked Huish, sharply.
" You're pleasant, ain't you ? "

"Stand away from that binnacle," said Herrick.

The clerk looked at him, long and straight and black;
his figure seemed to writhe like that of a snake about
to strike; then he turned on his heel, went back to the
cabin, and opened a bottle of champagne. When eight
bells were cried, he slept on the floor beside the captain
on the locker; and of the whole starboard watch, only
Sally Day appeared upon the summons. The mate
proposed to stand the watch with him, and let Uncle
Ned lie down. It would make twelve hours on deck,
and probably sixteen; but in this fair-weather sailing,
he might safely sleep between his tricks of wheel, leav-
ing orders to be called on any sign of squalls. So far
he could trust the men, between whom and himself a
close relation had sprung up. With Uncle Ned he held
long nocturnal conversations, and the old man told him
his simple and hard story of exile, suffering, and injustice
among cruel whites. The cook, when he found Herrick
messed alone, produced for him unexpected and some-
times unpalatable dainties, of which he forced himself
to eat. And one day, when he was forward, he was
surprised to feel a caressing hand run down his shoul-
der, and to hear the voice of Sally Day crooning in his
ear: "You gootch man!" He turned, and, choking
down a sob, shook hands with the negrito. They were
kindly, cheery, childish souls. Upon the Sunday each
brought forth his separate Bible; for they were all men

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of alien speech, even to each other, and Sally Day com-
municated with his mates in English only. Each read,
or made believe to read, his chapter, Uncle Ned with
spectacles on nose, and they would all join together in
the singing of missionary hymns. It was thus a cutting
reproof to compare the islanders and the whites aboard
the FaraBone. Shame ran in Herrick's blood to re-
member what employment he was on, and to see these
poor souls — and even Sally Day, the child of cannibals,
in all likelihood a cannibal himself — so faithful to what
they knew of good. The fact that he was held in grate-
ful favour by these innocents served like blinders to his
conscience, and there were times when he was inclined,
with Sally Day, to call himself a good man. But the
height of his favour was only now to appear. With one
voice the crew protested. Ere Herrick knew what they
were doing, the cook was aroused, and came a willing
volunteer; all hands clustered about their mate with ex-
postulations and caresses, and he was bidden to lie down
and take his customary rest without alarm.

"He tell you tlue," said Uncle Ned. "You sleep.
Evely man hea he do all light Evely man he like you
too much."

Herrick struggled — choked upon some trivial words
of gratitude — and walked to the side of the house,
against which he leaned, struggling with emotion.

Uncle Ned presently followed him, and begged him
to lie down.

"It's no use, Uncle Ned," he replied. "I couldn't
sleep. I'm knocked over with all your goodness."

"Ah, no call me Uncle Ned no mo'!" cried the old
man. "No my name! My name Taveeta, all-e-same

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Taveeta, King of Islael. Wat for he call that Hawaii ?
I think no savvy nothing — all-e-same Wise-a-mana."

It was the first time the name of the late captain had
been mentioned, and Herrick grasped the occasion. The
reader shall be spared Uncle Ned's unwieldy dialect, and
learn, in less embarrassing English, the sum of what he
now communicated. The ship had scarce cleared the
Golden Gate before the captain and mate had entered
on a career of drunkenness, which was scarcely inter-
rupted by their malady, and only closed by death. For
days and weeks they had encountered neither land nor
ship; and, seeing themselves lost on the huge deep
with their insane conductors, the natives had drunk
deep of terror.

At length they made a low island, and went in; and
Wiseman and Wishart landed in the boat There was
a great village, a very fine village, and plenty Kanakas
in that place, but all mighty serious ; and, from every
here and there in the back parts of the settlement, Ta-
veeta heard the sounds of island lamentation. "I no
savvy talk that island/' said he. "I savvy hear urn cly.
I think, Huml too many people die here! " But upon
Wiseman and Wishart the significance of that barbaric
keening was lost Full of bread and drink, they rol-
licked along, unconcerned ; embraced the girls, who had
scarce energy to repel them ; took up and joined (with
drunken voices) in the death wail; and at last (on what
they took to be an invitation) entered under the roof of a
house in which was a considerable concourse of people
sitting silent They stooped below the eaves, flushed
and laughing; within a minute they came forth again
with changed faces and silenced tongues; and, as the

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press severed to make way for them, Taveeta was able
to perceive, in the deep shadow of the house, the sick
man raising from his mat a head already defeatured by
disease. The two tragic triflers fled, without hesita-
tion, for their boat, screaming on Taveeta to make haste.
They came aboard with all speed of oars, raised anchor,
and crowded sail upon the ship with blows and curses,
and were at sea again — and again drunk — before sun-
set. A week after, and the last of the two had been
committed to the deep. Herrick asked Taveeta where
that island was, and he replied that, by what he gath-
ered of folks' talk as they went up together from the
beach, he supposed it must be one of the Paumotus.
This was in itself probable enough, for the Dangerous
Archipelago had been swept that year from east to west
by devastating small-pox; but Herrick thought it a
strange course to lie for Sydney. Then he remembered
the drink.

"Were they not surprised when they made the
island?" he asked.

" Wise-a-mana he say, ' Dam ! what this ? ' " was the
reply.

"Oh, that's it, then," said Herrick. " I don't believe
they knew where they were."

" I tink so, too," said Uncle Ned. " I tink no savvy.
This one mo' betta," he added, pointing to the house
where the drunken captain slumbered. "Take-a-sun
all-e-same."

The implied last touch completed Herrick's picture of
the life and death of his two predecessors; of their pro-
longed, sordid, sodden sensuality as they sailed, they
knew not whither, on their last cruise. He held but a

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twinkling and unsure belief in any future state; the
thought of one of punishment he derided ; yet for him
(as for all) there dwelt a horror about the end of the
brutish man. Sickness fell upon him at the image thus
called up; and when he compared it with the scene in
which himself was acting, and considered the doom
that seemed to brood upon the schooner, a horror that
was almost superstitious fell upon him. And yet the
strange thing was, he did not falter. He who had
proved his incapacity in so many fields, being now
falsely placed amid duties which he did not understand,
without help, and, it might be said, without counte-
nance, had hitherto surpassed expectation; and even the
shameful misconduct and shocking disclosures of that
night served but to nerve and strengthen him. He had
sold his honour; he vowed it should not be in vain. " It
shall be no fault of mine if this miscarry," he repeated.
And in his heart he wondered at himself. Living rage,
no doubt, supported him ; no doubt, also, the sense of
the last cast, of the ships burned, of all doors closed but
one, which is so strong a tonic to the merely weak, and
so deadly a depressant to the merely cowardly.

For some time the voyage went otherwise well. They
weathered Fakarava with one board ; and, the wind hold-
ing well to the southward and blowing fresh, they passed
between Ranaka and Ratiu, and ran some days, north-
east by east half east, under the lee of Takume and
Hondem, neither of which they made. In about four-
teen south and between one hundred and thirty-four
and one hundred and thirty-five west, it fell a dead calm,
with rather a heavy sea. The captain refused to take in
sail; the helm was lashed, no watch was set, and the

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FaraUone roUtd and banged for three days, according to
observation, in almost the same place. The fourth morn-
ing, a little before day, a breeze sprang up and rapidly
freshened. The captain had drunk hard the night be-
fore; he was far from sober when he was roused; and
when he came on deck for the first time, at half past
eight, it was plain he had already drunk deep again at
breakfast Herrick avoided his eye, and resigned the
deck, with indignation, to a man more than half seas
over. By the loud commands of the captain and the
singing out of fellows at the ropes, he could judge from
the house that sail was being crowded on the ship; re-
linquished his half-eaten breakfast, and came on deck
again, to find the main and the jib topsails set, and both
watches and the cook turned out to hand the stay-sail.
The FaraUone lay already far over; the sky was ob-
scured with misty scud; and from the windward an
ominous squall came flying up, broadening and black-
ening as it rose.

Fear thrilled in Herrick's vitals. He saw death hard
by, and, if not death, sure ruin ; for if the FaraUone
lived through the coming squall, she must surely be
dismasted. With that, their enterprise was at an end,
and they themselves bound prisoners to the very evi-
dence of their crime. The greatness of the peril and
his own alarm sufficed to silence him. Pride, wrath,
and shame raged without issue in his mind, and he
shut his teeth and folded his arms close.

The captain sat in the boat to windward, bellowing
orders and insults, his eyes glazed, his face deeply con-
gested, a bottle set between his knees, a glass in his
hand, half empty. His back was to the squall, and he

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was at first intent upon the setting of the sail. When
that was done, and the great trapezium of canvas had
begun to draw and to trail the lee-rail of the FaraBone
level with the foam, he laughed out an empty laugh,
drained his glass, sprawled back among the lumber in
the boat, and fetched out a crumpled novel.

Herrick watched him, and his indignation glowed red-
hot He glanced to windward, where the squall already
whitened the near sea, and already heralded its coming
with a singular and dismal sound. He glanced at the
steersman, and saw him clinging to the spokes with a
face of a sickly blue. He saw the crew were running to
their stations without orders, and it seemed as if some-
thing broke in his brain ; and the passion of anger, so
long restrained, so long eaten in secret, burst suddenly
loose, and filled and shook him like a sail. He stepped
across to the captain, and smote his hand heavily on the
drunkard's shoulder.

11 You brute," he said, in a voice that tottered, "look
behind you ! "

"Wha's that?" cried Davis, bounding in the boat
and upsetting the champagne.

"You lost the Sea Ranger because you were a
drunken sot," said Herrick. "Now you're going to
lose the FaraUone. You're going to drown here the
same way as you drowned others, and be damned.
And your daughter shall walk the streets, and your sons
be thieves like their father."

For the moment, the words struck the captain white
and foolish. " My God! " he cried, looking at Herrick
as upon a ghost; "my God, Herrick!"

"Look behind you, then!" reiterated the assailant
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The wretched man, already partly sobered, did as he
was told, and in the same breath of time leaped to his
feet. "Down staysail!" he trumpeted. The hands
were thrilling for the order, and the great sail came with
a run, and fell half overboard among the racing foam.
"Jib topsail halyardsl Let the stays'l be," he said again.

But before it was well uttered, the squall shouted
aloud and fell, in a solid mass of wind and rain com-
mingled on the FaraBone, and she stooped under the
blow, and lay like a thing dead. From the mind of
Herrick reason fled; he clung in the weather rigging,
exulting; he was done with life, and he gloried in the
release; he gloried in the wild noises of the wind and
the choking onslaught of the rain ; he gloried to die so,
and now, amid this coil of the elements. And mean-
while, in the waist, up to his knees in water, — so low
the schooner lay, — the captain was hacking at the fore-
sheet with a pocket-knife. It was a question of seconds,
for the Farattone drank deep of the encroaching seas.
But the hand of the captain had the advance. The fore-
sail boom tore apart the last strands of the sheet, and
crashed to leeward; the FaraBone leaped up into the
wind and righted; and the peak and throat halyards,
which had long been let go, began to run at the same
instant.

For some ten minutes more she careered under the
impulse of the squall ; but the captain was now master
of himself and of his ship, and all danger at an end.
And then, sudden as a trick-change upon the stage, the
squall blew by, the wind dropped into light airs, the
sun beamed forth again upon the tattered schooner; and
the captain, having secured the foresail boom, and set a

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couple of hands to the pump, walked aft, sober, a little
pale, and with the sodden end of a cigar still stuck be-
tween his teeth, even as the squall had found it. Her-
rick followed him. He could scarce recall the violence
of his late emotions, but he felt there was a scene to go
through, and he was anxious and even eager to go
through with it.

The captain, turning at the house end, met him face
to face, and averted his eyes. " We've lost the two
tops'Is and the stays'l," he gabbled. " Good business
we did n't lose any sticks. I guess you think we're all
the better without the kites."

"That's not what I'm thinking," said Herrick, in a
voice strangely quiet, that yet echoed confusion in the
captain's mind.

"1 know that," he cried, holding up his hand. "I
know what you're thinking. No use to say it now. I'm
sober."

"I have to say it, though," returned Herrick.

"Hold on, Herrick; you've said enough, "said Davis.
" You've said what I would take from no man breath-
ing but yourself ; only I know it's true."

"I have to tell you, Captain Brown," pursued Her-
rick, "that I resign my position as mate. You can put
me in irons or shoot me, as you please. I will make no
resistance; only I decline in any way to help or to obey
you; and I suggest you should put Mr. Huish in my
place. He will make a worthy first officer to your cap-
tain, sir." He smiled, bowed, and turned to walk for-
ward.

" Where are you going, Herrick ? " cried the captain,
detaining him by the shoulder.

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"To berth forward with the men, sir," replied Her-
rick, with the same hateful smile. "I've been long
enough aft here with you — gentlemen."

" You're wrong there," said Davis. "Don't you be
too quick with me; there ain't nothing wrong but the
drink — it's the old story, man 1 Let me get sober once,
and then you'll see," he pleaded.

"Excuse me, I desire to see no more of you," said
Herrick.

The captain groaned aloud. " You know what you
said about my children ? " he broke out

" By rote. In case you wish me to say it to you
again ? " asked Herrick.

" Don't! " cried the captain, clapping his hands to his
ears. " Don't make me kill a man I care fori Herrick,
if you see me put a glass to my lips again till we're
ashore, I give you leave to put a bullet through me. I
beg you to do it! You're the only man aboard whose
carcass is worth losing. Do you think I don't know
that? Do you think I ever went back on you? I
always knew that you were in the right of it; drunk or
sober, I knew that. What do you want ? An oath ?
Man, you're clever enough to see that this is sure-
enough earnest"

"Do you mean there shall be no more drinking,"
asked Herrick; " neither by you nor Huish ? That you
won't go on stealing my profits and drinking my cham-
pagne, that I gave my honour for ? And that you'll at-
tend to your duties, and stand watch and watch, and
bear your proper share of the ship's work, instead of
leaving it all on the shoulders of a landsman, and mak-
ing yourself the butt and scoff of native seamen ? Is

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that what you mean ? If it is, be so good as to say it
categorically."

" You put these things in a wayward for a gentleman
to swallow," said the captain. " You would n't have
me say I was ashamed of myself? Trust me this oncel
I'll do the square thing; and there's my hand on it"

"Well, I'll try it once," said Herrick. "Fail me
again "

"No more now !" interrupted Davis. "No more,
old man 1 Enough said. You've a riling tongue when
your back's up, Herrick. Just be glad we're friends
again, the same as what I am, and go tender on the
raws. I'll see as you don't repent it We've been
mighty near death this day, — don't say whose fault it
was ! — pretty near hell too, I guess. We're in a mighty
bad line of life, us two, and ought to go easy with each
other."

He was maundering; yet it seemed as if he were
maundering with some design, beating about the bush
of some communication that he feared to make, or per-
haps only talking against time, in terror of what Her-
rick might say next But Herrick had now spat his
venom. His was a kindly nature, and, content with
his triumph, he had now begun to pity. With a
few soothing words he sought to conclude the inter-
view, and proposed that they should change their
clothes.

' ' Not right yet, " said Davis. * ' There's another thing
I want to tell you first You know what you said about
my children ? I want to tell you why it hit me so
hard; I kind of think you'll feel bad about it too. It's
about my little Adar. You hadn't ought to have quite

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said that — but of course I know you didn't know. She
— she's dead, you see."

"Why, Davis!" cried Herrick. • You've told me a
dozen times she was alive! Clear your head, man!
This must be the drink."

"No, sir/' said Davis. "She's dead, right enough.
Died of a bowel complaint That was when I was
away in the brig Oregon. She lies in Portland, Maine.
' Adar, only daughter of Captain John Davis and Mariar
his wife, aged five.' I had a doll for her on board. I
never took the paper ofTn that doll, Herrick; it went
down the way it was, with the Sea Ranger, that day I
was damned."

The captain's eyes were fixed on the horizon; he
talked with an extraordinary softness, but a complete
composure; and Herrick looked upon him with some-
thing that was almost terror.

"Don't think I'm crazy, neither," resumed Davis.
" I've all the cold sense that I know what to do with.
But I guess a man that's unhappy's like a child; and
this is a kind of a child's game of mine. I never could
act up to the plain-out truth, you see. So I pretend.
And I warn you square: as soon as we're through
with this talk, I'll start in again with the pretending.
Only, you see, she can't walk no streets," added the
captain; "couldn't even make out to live and get that
doll!"

Herrick laid a tremulous hand upon the captain's
shoulder.

"Don't do that!" cried Davis, recoiling from the
touch. " Can't you see I'm all broken up the way it
is? Come along, then; come along, old man. You

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can put your trust in me right through. Come along
and get dry clothes/'

They entered the cabin, and there was Huish on his
knees, prising open a case of champagne.

"Vast, there!" cried the captain. "No more of
that No more drinking on this ship."

"Turned teetotal, 'ave you ? " inquired Huish. " I'm
agreeable. About time, eh? Bloomin' nearly lost
another ship, 1 fancy." He took out a bottle, and be-
gan calmly to burst the wire with the spike of a cork-
screw.

" Do you hear me speak ? " cried Davis.

"I suppose I do. You speak loud enough," said
Huish. " The trouble is that I don't care."

Herrick plucked the captain's sleeve. "Let him be
now," said he; "we've had all we want this evening."

" Let him have it, then," said the captain. " If s his
last."

By this time the wire was open, the string was cut,
the head of gilded paper was torn away, and Huish
waited, mug in hand, expecting the usual explosion.
It did not follow. He eased the cork with his thumb;
still there was no result At last he took the screw and
drew it It came out very easy and with scarce a
sound.

" 'Illo! " said Huish, " 'ere's a bad bottle."

He poured some of the wine into the mug; it was
colourless and still. He smelt and tasted it.

" W'y, wot's this ? " he said. " It's water 1 "

If the voice of trumpets had suddenly sounded about
the ship in the midst of the sea, the three men in the
house could scarce have been more stunned than by

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this incident The mug passed round; each sipped,
each smelt of it; each stared at the bottle, in its glory of
gold paper, as Crusoe may have stared at the footprint;
and their minds were swift to fix upon a common ap-
prehension. The difference between a bottle of cham-
pagne and a bottle of water is not great; between a
shipload of one or of the other lay the whole scale from
riches to ruin.

A second bottle was broached. There were two cases
standing ready in a stateroom. These two were brought
out, broken open and tested; still with the same result:
the contents were still colourless and tasteless, and dead
as the rain in a beached fishing-boat

"Crikey!" said Huish.

" Here, let's sample the hold I " said the captain, mop-
ping his brow with a back-handed sweep ; and the three
stalked out of the house, grim and heavy-footed.

All hands were turned out: two Kanakas were sent
below, another stationed at a purchase, and Davis, axe
in hand, took his place beside the coaming.

" Are you going to let the men know ? " whispered
Herrick.

" Damn the men ! " said Davis. " It's beyond that
We've got to know ourselves."

Three cases were sent on deck and sampled in turn;
from each bottle, as the captain smashed it with the axe,
the champagne ran bubbling and creaming.

" Go deeper, can't you ? " cried Davis to the Kanakas
in the hold.

The command gave the signal for a disastrous change.
Case after case came up, bottle after bottle was burst,
and bled mere water. Deeper yet, and they came upon

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a layer where there was scarcely so much as the inten-
tion to deceive, — where the cases were no longer
branded, the bottles no longer wired or papered ; where
the fraud was manifest, and stared them in the face.

"Here's about enough of this foolery!" said Davis.
" Stow back the cases in the hold, Uncle, and get the
broken crockery overboard. Come with me," he added
to his co-adventurers, and led the way back into the
cabin.

Digitized by VjOOQIC

CHAPTER VI

THE PARTNERS

Each took a side of the fixed table. It was the first
time they had sat down at it together; but now all
sense of incongruity, all memory of differences, was
quite swept away by the presence of common ruin.

"Gentlemen," said the captain, after a pause, and
with very much the air of a chairman opening a board-
meeting, "we're sold."

Huish broke out in laughter. " Well, if this ain't the
'ighest old rig!" he cried. "And Davis 'ere, who
thought he had got up so bloomin' early in the morn-
in'l We've stolen a cargo of spring water! Oh, my
crikey! " and he squirmed with mirth.

The captain managed to screw out a phantom smile.

" Here's Old Man Destiny again," said he to Herrick;
" but this time I guess he's kicked the door right in."

Herrick only shook his head.

"Oh, Lord, it's rich!" laughed Huish. "It would
really be a scrumptious lark if it 'ad 'appened to some-
body else. And wot are we to do next ? Oh, my eye!
with this bloomin' schooner, too."

" That's the trouble, " said Davis. * * There's only one
thing certain: it's no use carting this old glass and bal-
last to Peru. No, sir, we're in a hole."

"Oh, my! and the merchant!" cried Huish; "the
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man that made this shipment! He'll get the news by
the mail brigantine, and he'll think of course we're
making straight for Sydney."

" Yes, he'll be a sick merchant," said the captain.
"One thing: this explains the Kanaka crew. If you're
going to lose a ship, I would ask no better myself than
a Kanaka crew. But there's one thing it don't explain;
it don't explain why she came down Tahiti ways."

" W'y, to lose her, you by by! " said Huish.

"A lot you know," said the captain. "Nobody
wants to lose a schooner; they want to lose her on bet
course, you skeesicks! You seem to think under-
writers haven't got enough sense to come in out of the
rain."

"Well," said Herrick, "I can tell you, I am afraid,
why she came so far to the eastward. I had it of Uncle
Ned. It seems these two unhappy devils, Wiseman
and Wishart, were drunk on the champagne from the
beginning, and died drunk at the end."

The captain looked on the table.

"They lay in their two bunks, or sat here in this
damned house," he pursued, with rising agitation,
"filling their skins with the accursed stuff, till sickness
took them. As they sickened, and the fever rose, they
drank the more. They lay here howling and groaning,
drunk and dying, all in one. They didn't know where
they were; they didn't care. They didn't even take
the sun, it seems."

"Not take the sun!" cried the captain, looking up.
"Sacred Billy! what a crowd!"

" Well, it don't matter to Joel " said Huish. " Wot
are Wiseman and the t'other buffer to us ? "

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" A good deal, too/' said the captain. " We're their
heirs, I guess."

" It is a great inheritance/' said Herrick.

"Well, I don't know about that," returned Davis.
" Appears to me as if it might be worse. 'T ain't what
the cargo would have been, of course ; at least, not money
down. But I'll tell you what it appears to figure up to.
Appears to me as if it amounted to about the bottom
dollar of the man in 'Frisco."

" 'Old on," said Huish. "Give a fellow time. 'Ow's
this, umpire?"

"Well, my sons," pursued the captain, who seemed
to have recovered his assurance, "Wiseman and Wish-
art were to be paid for casting away this old schooner
and its cargo. We're going to cast away the schooner
right enough, and I'll make it my private business to see
that we get paid. What were W. and W. to get? That's
more'n I can tell. But W. and W. went into this busi-
ness themselves; they were on the crook. Now we're
on the square; we only stumbled into it; and that mer-
chant has just got to squeal, and I'm the man to see that
he squeals good. No, sir! there's some stuffing to this
FaraUone racket, after all."

"Go it, Cap! "cried Huish. "Yoicks! Forrard! 'Old
'ardl There's your style for the money I Blow me if I
don't prefer this to the bother."

" I do not understand," said Herrick. "I have to ask
you to excuse me; I do not understand."

"Well, now, see here, Herrick," said Davis. "I'm
going to have a word with you, any way, upon a dif-
ferent matter, and it's good that Huish should hear it
too. We're done with this boozing business, and we

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ask your pardon for it right here and now. We have
to thank you for all you did for us while we were mak-
ing hogs of ourselves. You'll find me turn to all right
in future; and as for the wine, which I grant we stole
from you, I'll take stock and see you paid for it. That's
good enough, I believe. But what I want to point out
to you is this. The old game was a risky game. The
new game's as safe as running a Vienna bakery. We
just put this Farattone before the wind, and run till
we're well to leeward of our port of departure, and rea-
sonably well up with some other place where they have
an American consul. Down goes the Farattone, and
good-by to her! A day or so in the boat; the consul
packs us home, at Uncle Sam's expense, to 'Frisco; and
if that merchant don't put the dollars down, you come
tome!"

"But I thought — " began Herrick; and then broke
out, "Oh, let's get on to Peru!"

"Well, if you're going to Peru for your health, I won't
say no, " replied the captain. ' ' But for what other blame'
shadow of a reason you should want to go there, gets
me clear. We don't want to go there with this cargo.
I don't know as old bottles is a lively article anywheres;
leastways I'll go my bottom cent it ain't in Peru. It
was always a doubt if we could sell the schooner; I
never rightly hoped to, and now I'm sure she ain't worth
a hill of beans. What's wrong with her, I don't know.
I only know it's something, or she wouldn't be here
with this truck in her inside. Then, again, if we lose
her, and land in Peru, where are we ? We can't declare
the loss, or how did we get to Peru ? In that case the
merchant can't touch the insurance; most likely he'll go

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bust; and don't you think you see the three of us on the
beach ofCallao?"

"There's no extradition there," said Herrick.

4 'Well, my son, and we want to be extradished," said
the captain. " What's our point ? We want to have a
consul extradish us as far as San Francisco and that mer-
chant's office door. My idea is that Samoa would be
found an eligible business centre. It's dead before the
wind; the States have a consul there, and 'Frisco steam-
ers call, so's we could skip right back and interview the
merchant."

" Samoa ? " said Herrick. " It will take us forever to
get there."

"Oh, with a fair wind! " said the captain.

" No trouble about the log, eh ? " asked Huish.

"No, sir/' said Davis. "Light airs and baffling
winds. Squalls and calms. D. R.: five miles. No
obs. Pumps attended. And fill in the barometer
and thermometer off of last year's trip. ' Never saw
such a voyage,' says you to the consul. 'Thought I
was going to run short — '" He stopped in mid-
career. "Say," he began again, and once more
stopped. " Beg your pardon, Herrick," he added, with
undisguised humility, "but did you keep the run of
the stores?"

" Had I been told to do so, it should have been done,
as the rest was done, to the best of my little ability,"
said Herrick. "As it was, the cook helped himself to
what he pleased."

Davis looked at the table.

" I drew it rather fine, you see," he said at last. "The
great thing was to clear right out of Papeete before the

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consul could think better of it Tell you what, — I guess
I'll take stock."

And he rose from the table, and disappeared with a
lamp in the lazaretto.

"'Ere's another screw loose/' observed Huish.

"My man," said Herrick, with a sudden gleam of
animosity, "it is still your watch on deck, and surely
your wheel also ? "

"You come the 'eavy swell, don't you, ducky?"
said Huish. "Stand away from that binnacle. ' Surely
your w'eel, my man.' Yahl "

He lit a cigar ostentatiously, and strolled into the waist
with his hands in his pockets.

In a surprisingly short time the captain reappeared ;
he did not look at Herrick, but called Huish back and
sat down.

"Well," he began, "I've taken stock — roughly."
He paused, as if for somebody to help him out; and,
none doing so, both gazing on him instead with mani-
fest anxiety, he yet more heavily resumed: "Well, it
won't fight. We can't do it; that's the bed-rock. I'm
as sorry as what you can be, and sorrier. But the
game's up. We can't look near Samoa. I don't know
as we could get to Peru."

" Wot-ju mean ? " asked Huish, brutally.

"I can't most tell myself," replied the captain. "I
drew it fine; I said I did; but what's been going on here
gets me! Appears as if the devil had been around.
That cook must be the holiest kind of a fraud. Only
twelve days, too! Seems like craziness. I'll own up
square to one thing: I seem to have figured too fine upon
the flour. But the rest — my land ! I'll never under-

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stand it! There's been more waste on this two-penny
ship than what there is to an Atlantic Liner." He stole
a glance at his companions; nothing good was to be
gleaned from their dark faces; and he had recourse to
rage. "You wait until I interview that cook!" he
roared, and smote the table with his fist. "I'll inter-
view the son of a gun as he's never been spoken to be-
fore. I'll put a bead upon the ! "

" You will not lay a finger on the man," said Herrick.
11 The fault is yours, and you know it If you turn a
savage loose in your store-room, you know what to ex-
pect. I will not allow the man to be molested."

It is hard to say how Davis might have taken this de-
fiance, but he was diverted to a fresh assailant

" Well! " drawled Huish, "you're a plummy captain,
ain't you ? You're a blooming captain! Don't you set
up any of your chat to me, John Dyvis. I know you
now; you ain't any more use than a bloomin' dawl!
Oh, you 'don't know,' don't you? Oh, it 'gets you,'
do it? Oh, I dessay! W'y, weren't you 'owling for
fresh tins every blessed day ? 'Ow often 'ave 1 'eard
you send the 'ole bloomin' dinner off, and tell the man
to chuck it in the swill-tub ? And breakfast ? Oh, my
crikey! Breakfast for ten, and you 'ollerin' for more!
And now you ' can't most tell ' ! Blow me if it ain't
enough to make a man write an insultin' letter to Gawd!
You dror it mild, John Dyvis. Don't 'andle me; I'm
dyngerous."

Davis sat like one bemused; it might even have been
doubted if he heard. But the voice of the clerk rang
about the cabin like that of a cormorant among the
ledges of a cliff.

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''That will do, Huish," said Herrick.

" Oh, so you tyke his part, do you, you stuck-up, sneer-
in' snob? Tyke it, then. Come on, the pair of you!
But as for John Dyvis, let him look outl He struck me
the first night aboard, and I never took a blow yet but
wot I gave as good. Let him knuckle down on his mar-
rowbones and beg my pardon; that's my last wordl "

1 ' I stand by the captain, " said Herrick. ' ' That makes
us two to one, both good men; and the crew will all
follow me. I hope I shall die very soon ; but 1 have not
the least objection to killing you before I go. 1 should
prefer it so. I should do it with no more remorse than
winking. Take care, take care, you little cad!"

The animosity with which these words were uttered
was so marked in itself, and so remarkable in the man
who uttered them, that Huish stared, and even the hu-
miliated Davis reared up his head and gazed at his de-
fender. As for Herrick, the successive agitations and
disappointments of the day had left him wholly reckless;
he was conscious of a pleasant glow, an agreeable ex-
citement. His head seemed empty ; his eyeballs burned
as he turned them ; his throat was dry as a biscuit The
least dangerous man by nature, except in so far as the
weak are always dangerous, at that moment he was
ready to slay or be slain, with equal unconcern.

Here, at least, was the gage thrown down, and battle
offered. He who should speak next would bring the
matter to an issue there and then. All knew it to be so,
and hung back ; and for many seconds by the cabin clock
the trio sat motionless and silent.

Then came an interruption, welcome as the flowers
in May.

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"Land ho!" sang out a voice on deck. "Land a
weatha bowl"

1 ' Land 1 " cried Davis, springing to his feet * ' What's
this ? There ain't no land here."

And, as men may run from the chamber of a mur-
dered corpse, the three ran forth out of the house, and
left their quarrel behind them, undecided.

The sky shaded down at the sea level to the white of
opal; the sea itself, insolently, inkily blue, drew all about
them the uncompromising wheel of the horizon. Search
it as they pleased, not even the practised eye of Captain
Davis could descry the smallest interruption. A few
filmy clouds were slowly melting overhead ; and about
the schooner, as around the only point of interest, a tropic
bird, white as a snowflake, hung and circled, and dis-
played, as it turned, the long vermilion feather of its
tail. Save the sea and the heaven, that was all.

"Who sang out land?" asked Davis. "If there'3
any boy playing funny-dog with me, I'll teach him sky •
larking!"

But Uncle Ned contentedly pointed to a part of the
horizon where a greenish, filmy iridescence could be
discerned, floating like smoke on the pale heavens.

Davis applied his glass to it, and then looked at the
Kanaka. ' ' Call that land ? " said he. - ' Well, it's more
than Idol"

"Onetime, long ago, "said Uncle Ned, "I see Anaa
all-e-same that, four, five hours befo' we come up.
Capena he say sun go down, sun go up again ; he say
lagoon all-e-same milla."

" All-e-same what? " asked Davis.

"Milla, sah," said Uncle Ned.
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"Oh, ah! mirror," said Davis. "I see, — reflection
from the lagoon. Well, you know, it is just possible,
though it's strange I never heard of it Here, let's look
at the chart"

They went back to the cabin, and found the position
of the schooner well to windward of the archipelago, in
the midst of a white field of paper.

"There, you see for yourselves!" said Davis.

" And yet I don't know," said Herrick ; " I somehow
think there's something in it I'll tell you one thing,
too, captain: that's all right about the reflection; I
heard it in Papeete."

"Fetch up that Findlay, then! " said Davis; " I'll try
it all ways. An island wouldn't come amiss the way
we're fixed."

The bulky volume was handed up to him, broken-
backed, as is the way with Findlay ; and he turned to
the place, and began to run over the text, muttering to
himself, and turning over the pages with a wetted
finger.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed; "how's this?" And he
read aloud: "New Island. According to M. Delille,
this island, which from private interests would remain
unknown, lies, it is said, in latitude ia° 49' 10" south,
longitude 133 6' west In addition to the position
above given, Commander Matthews, H. M. S. Scorpion,
states that an island exists in latitude 12 o / south, lon-
gitude 133° \& west This must be the same, if such
an island exists, which is very doubtful, and totally dis-
believed in by South Sea traders."

"Golly!" saidHuish.

"It's rather in the conditional mood," said Herrick.
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THE PEARL FISHER

A BOUT four in the morning, as the captain and Her-
/\ rick sat together on the rail, there arose from the
midst of the night, in front of them, the voice of
breakers. Each sprang to his feet and stared and lis-
tened. The sound was continuous, like the passing of
a train; no rise or fail couid be distinguished; minute
by minute the ocean heaved with an equal potency
against the invisible isle; and as time passed, and Her-
rick waited in vain for any vicissitude in the volume of
that roaring, a sense of the eternal weighed upon his
mind. To the expert eye, the isle itself was to be in-
ferred from a certain string of blots along the starry
heaven. And the schooner was laid to and anxiously
observed till daylight.

There was little or no morning bank. A brightening
came in the east; then a wash of some ineffable, faint,
nameless hue between crimson and silver; and then
coals of fire. These glimmered awhile on the sea-line,
and seemed to brighten and darken and spread out;
and still the night and the stars reigned undisturbed. It
was as though a spark should catch and glow and creep
along the foot of some heavy and almost incombustible

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wall-hanging, and the room itself be scarce menaced
Yet a little after, and the whole east glowed with gold
and scarlet, and the hollow of heaven was filled with
the daylight

The isle — the undiscovered, the scarce believed in —
now lay before them and close aboard; and Herrick
thought that never in his dreams had he beheld any-
thing more strange and delicate. The beach was ex-
cellently white, the continuous barrier of trees inimitably
green; the land perhaps ten feet high, the trees thirty
more. Every here and there, as the schooner coasted
northward, the wood was intermitted; and he could
see clear over the inconsiderable strip of land (as a man
looks over a wall) to the lagoon within ; and clear over
that, again, to where the far side of the atoll prolonged
its pencilling of trees against the morning sky. He
tortured himself to find analogies. The isle was like
the rim of a great vessel sunken in the waters; it was
like the embankment of an annular railway grown upon
with wood. So slender it seemed amidst the outra-
geous breakers, so frail and pretty, he would scarce
have wondered to see it sink and disappear without a
sound, and the waves close smoothly over its descent

Meanwhile the captain was in the fore-crosstrees,
glass in hand, his eyes in every quarter, spying for an
entrance, spying for signs of tenancy. But the isle con-
tinued to unfold itself in joints and to run out in inde-
terminate capes, and still there was neither house nor
man nor the smoke of fire. Here a multitude of sea-
birds soared and twinkled and fished in the blue waters ;
and there, and for miles together, the fringe of cocoa-
palm and pandanus extended desolate, and made desir-

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able green bowers for nobody to visit; and the silence
of death was only broken by the throbbing of the sea.

The airs were very light, their speed was small; the
heat intense. The decks were scorching underfoot; the
sun flamed overhead, brazen out of a brazen sky; the
pitch bubbled in the seams, and the brains in the brain-
pan. And all the while the excitement of the three ad-
venturers glowed about their bones like a fever. They
whispered and nodded and pointed and put mouth to
ear with a singular instinct of secrecy, approaching that
island underhand, like eavesdroppers and thieves; and
even Davis, from the crosstrees, gave his orders mostly
by gestures. The hands shared in this mute strain, like
dogs, without comprehending it; and through the roar
of so many miles of breakers, it was a silent ship that
approached an empty island.

At last they drew near to the break in that intermina-
ble gangway. A spur of coral sand stood forth on the
one hand ; on the other, a high and thick tuft of trees
cut off the view; between was the mouth of the huge
laver. Twice a day the ocean crowded in that narrow
entrance and was heaped between these frail walls;
twice a day, with the return of the ebb, the mighty
surplusage of water must struggle to escape, The hour
in which the FaraUone came there was the hour of
flood. The sea turned (as with the instinct of the hom-
ing pigeon) for the vast receptacle, swept eddying
through the gates, was transmuted, as it did so, into a
wonder of watery and silken hues, and brimmed into
the inland sea beyond. The schooner worked up, close-
hauled, and was caught and carried away by the influx
like a toy. She skimmed; she flew; a momentary

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shadow touched her decks from the shoreside trees;
the bottom of the channel showed up for a moment,
and was in a moment gone; the next, she floated on
the bosom of the lagoon; and below, in the transparent
chamber of waters, a myriad of many-coloured fishes
were sporting, a myriad pale flowers of coral diversified
the floor.

Herrick stood transported. In the gratified lust of
his eye he forgot the past and the present; forgot that
he was menaced by a prison on the one hand and star-
vation on the other; forgot that he was come to that
island, desperately foraging, clutching at expedients.
A drove of fishes, painted like the rainbow and billed
like parrots, hovered up in the shadow of the schooner,
and passed clear of it, and glinted in the submarine sun.
They were beautiful like birds, and their silent passage
impressed him like a strain of song.

Meanwhile, to the eye of Davis in the crosstrees, the
lagoon continued to expand its empty waters, and the
long succession of the shoreside trees to be paid out
like fishing-line off a reel. And still there was no mark
of habitation. The schooner, immediately on entering,
had been kept away to the northward, where the water
seemed to be the most deep; and she was now skim-
ming past the tall grove of trees, which stood on that
side of the channel and denied further view. Of the
whole of the low shores of the island, only this bight
remained to be revealed. And suddenly the curtain
was raised; they began to open out a haven, snugly
elbowed there, and beheld, with an astonishment be-
yond words, the roofs of men. The appearance, thus
" instantaneously disclosed " to those on the deck of

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the Farattone, was not that of a city, rather of a sub-
stantial country farm with its attendant hamlet, — a long
line of sheds and store-houses; apart, upon the one side,
a deep-verandahed dwelling-house; on the other, per-
haps a dozen native huts, a building with a belfry and
some rude offer at architectural features that might be
thought to mark it out for a chapel; on the beach in
front, some heavy boats drawn up, and a pile of timber
running forth into the burning shallows of the lagoon.
From a flag-staff at the pierhead, the red ensign of
England was displayed. Behind, about, and over, the
same tall grove of palms which had masked the settle-
ment in the beginning, prolonged its roof of tumultuous
green fans, and tossed and ruffled overhead, and sang
its silver song all day in the wind. The place had the
indescribable but unmistakable appearance of being in
commission, yet there breathed from it a sense of de-
sertion that was almost poignant; no human figure was
to be observed going to and fro about the houses, and
there was no sound of human industry or enjoyment
Only, on the top of the beach and hard by the flag-
staff, a woman of exorbitant stature and as white as
snow was to be seen, beckoning with uplifted arm.
The second glance identified her as a piece of naval
sculpture, the figure-head of a ship that had long hov-
ered and plunged into so many running billows, and
was now brought ashore to be the ensign and presid-
ing genius of that empty town.

The FaraUone made a soldier's breeze of it; the wind,
besides, was stronger inside than without under the lee
of the land ; and the stolen schooner opened out suc-
cessive objects with the swiftness of a panorama, so

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that the adventurers stood speechless. The flag spoke
for itself; it was no frayed and weathered trophy that
had beaten itself to pieces on the post, flying over deso-
lation; and, to make assurance stronger, there was to
be descried, in the deep shade of the verandah, a glitter
of crystal and the fluttering of white napery. If the
figure-head at the pier end, with its perpetual gesture
and its leprous whiteness, reigned alone in that hamlet,
as it seemed to do, it could not have reigned long.
Men's hands had been busy, men's feet stirring there,
within the circuit of the clock. The Farallones were
sure of it; their eyes dug in the deep shadow of the
palms for some one hiding. If intensity of looking
might have prevailed, they would have pierced the
walls of houses; and there came to them, in these preg-
nant seconds, a sense of being watched and played
with, and of a blow impending, that was hardly bear-
able.

The extreme point of palms they had just passed en-
closed a creek, which was thus hidden up to the last
moment from the eyes of those on board ; and from this
a boat put suddenly and briskly out, and a voice hailed.

" Schooner ahoy 1 " it cried. " Stand in for the pier!
In two cables' lengths you'll have twenty fathoms*
water and good holding-ground."

The boat was manned with a couple of brown oars-
men in scanty kilts of blue. The speaker, who was
steering, wore white clothes, the full dress of the tropics.
A wide hat shaded his face; but it could be seen that he
was of stalwart size, and his voice sounded like a gen-
tleman's. So much could be made out. It was plain,
besides, that the FaraUone had been descried some time

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before at sea, and the inhabitants were prepared for its
reception.

Mechanically the orders were obeyed, and the ship
berthed; and the three adventurers gathered aft beside
the house and waited, with galloping pulses and a per-
fect vacancy of mind, the coming of the stranger who
might mean so much to them. They had no plan, no
story prepared, there was no time to make one, they
were caught red-handed, and must stand their chance.
Yet this anxiety was checkered with hope. The island
being undeclared, it was not possible the man could
hold any office or be in a position to demand their
papers. And beyond that, if there was any truth in
Findlay, as it now seemed there should be, he was the
representative of the "private reasons;" and must see
their coming with a profound disappointment; and
perhaps (hope whispered) he would be willing and able
to purchase their silence.

The boat was by that time forging alongside, and
they were able at last to see what manner of man they
had to do with. He was a huge fellow, six feet four in
height, and of a build proportionately strong, but his
sinews seemed to be dissolved in a listlessness that was
more than languor. It was only the eye that corrected
this impression, — an eye of an unusual mingled bril-
liancy and softness, sombre as coal, and with lights that
outshone the topaz; an eye of unimpaired health and vi-
rility ; an eye that bid you beware of the man's devastat-
ing anger. A complexion naturally dark had been tanned
in the island to a hue hardly distinguishable from that of
a Tahitian ; only his manners and movements, and the
living force that dwelt in him, like fire in flint, betrayed

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the European. He was dressed in white drill, exqui-
sitely made; his scarf and tie were of tender coloured
silks; on the thwart beside him there leaned a Win-
chester rifle.

" Is the doctor on board ?" he cried, as he came up.
"Doctor Symonds, I mean? You never heard of
him? Nor yet of the Trinity Hall? Ah!" He did
not look surprised; seemed, rather, to affect it in polite-
ness ; but his eye rested on each of the three white men
in succession with a sudden weight of curiosity that
was almost savage. "Ah, tben/'said he, "there is
some small mistake, no doubt, and I must ask you to
what I am indebted for this pleasure ? "

He was by this time on the deck, but he had the art
to be quite unapproachable; the friendliest vulgarian,
three parts drunk, would have known better than take
liberties; and not one of the adventurers so much as
offered to shake hands.

"Well," said Davis, "I suppose you may call it an
accident We had heard of your island, and read that
thing in the 'Directory ' about the private reasons, you
see; so when we saw the lagoon reflected in the sky,
we put her head for it at once, and here we are."

"'Ope we don't intrude! " said Huish.

The stranger looked at Huish with an air of faint
surprise, and looked pointedly away again. It was hard
to be more offensive in dumb show.

" It may suit me, your coming here," he said. "My
own schooner is overdue, and I may put something in
your way in the mean time. Are you open to a char-
ter?"

"Well, I guess so," said Davis; "it depends "
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"My name is Attwater," continued the stranger.
"You, I presume, are the captain ?"

"Yes, sir. I am the captain of this ship. Captain
Brown," was the reply.

"Well, see 'ere!" said Huish, "better begin fair!
'E's skipper on deck right enough, but not below. Be-
low we're all equal, all got a lay in the adventure.
When it comes to business, I'm as good as 'e; and
what I say is, let's go into the 'ouse and have a lush,
and talk it over among pals. We've some prime fizz,"
he said, and winked.

The presence of the gentleman lighted up like a can-
dle the vulgarity of the clerk; and Herrick, instinctive-
ly, as one shields himself from pain, made haste to in-
terrupt.

"My name is Hay," said he, "since introductions
are going. We shall be very glad if you will step in-
side."

Attwater leaned to him swiftly. " University man ? "
said he.

"Yes, Merton," said Herrick, and the next moment
blushed scarlet at his indiscretion.

"I am of the other lot," said Attwater; "Trinity
Hall, Cambridge. I called my schooner after the old
shop. Well! this is a queer place and company for us
to meet in, Mr. Hay," he pursued, with easy incivility
to the others. " But do you bear out — I beg this gen-
tleman's pardon, I really did not catch his name."

"My name is 'Uish, sir," returned the clerk, and
blushed in turn.

"Ah!" said Attwater. And then turning again to
Herrick, " Do you bear out Mr. Whish's description of

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your vintage, or was it only the unaffected poetry of his
own nature bubbling up ? "

Herrick was embarrassed; the silken brutality of their
visitor made him blush. That he should be accepted
as an equal, and the others thus pointedly ignored,
pleased him in spite of himself, and then ran through
his veins in a recoil of anger.

" 1 don't know," he said. " It's only California; it's
good enough, I believe."

Attwater seemed to make up his mind. "Well,
then, I'll tell you what: you three gentlemen come
ashore this evening, and bring a basket of wine with
you; I'll try and find the food," he said. "And by the
by, here is a question I should have asked you when I
came on board : Have you had small-pox ? "

" Personally, no," said Herrick. " But the schooner
had it."

" Deaths ? " from Attwater.

"Two," said Herrick.

"Well, it is a dreadful sickness," said Attwater.

"'Ad you any deaths," asked Huish, "'ere on the
island?"

- ' Twenty-nine, " said Attwater. ' ' Twenty-nine
deaths and thirty-one cases, out of thirty-three souls
upon the island. That's a strange way to calculate,
Mr. Hay, is it not ? Souls! I never say it but it startles
me.

"Oh, so that's why everything's deserted?" said
Huish.

"That is why, Mr. Whish," said Attwater; "that is
why the house is empty and the graveyard full."

"Twenty-nine out of thirty-three ! " exclaimed Her-
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rick. " Why, when it came to burying — or did you
bother burying ? "

"Scarcely," said Attwater; "or there was one day,
at least, when we gave up. There were five of the
dead that morning, and thirteen of the dying, and no
one able to go about except the sexton and myself.
We held a council of war, took the — empty bottles —
into the lagoon, and — buried them." He looked over
his shoulder, back at the bright water. "Well, so
you'll come to dinner, then ? Shall we say half-past
six? So good of you!"

His voice, in uttering these conventional phrases, fell
at once into the false measure of society; and Herrick
unconsciously followed the example.

"I am sure we shall be very glad," he said. "At
half-past six ? Thank you so very much."

" ' For my voice has been tuned to the note of the gun,
That startles the deep when the combat's begun,' "

quoted Attwater, with a smile, which instantly gave
way to an air of funereal solemnity. " I shall particu-
larly expect Mr. Whish," he continued. "Mr. Whish,
I trust you understand the invitation ?"

"I believe you, my boy!" replied the genial Huish.

"That is right, then; and quite understood, is it
not?" said Attwater. " Mr. Whish and Captain Brown
at six-thirty without fail; and you, Hay, at four sharp."

And he called his boat.

During all this talk, a load of thought or anxiety
had weighed upon the captain. There was no part for
which nature had so liberally endowed him as that of
the genial ship-captain. But to-day he was silent and

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abstracted. Those who knew him could see that he
hearkened close to every syllable, and seemed to ponder
and try it in balances. It would have been hard to say
what look there was, cold, attentive, and sinister, as of
a man maturing plans, which still brooded over the un-
conscious guest; it was here, it was there, it was no-
where; it was now so little that Herrick chid himself
for an idle fancy; and anon it was so gross and palpa-
ble that you could say every hair on the man's head
talked mischief.

He woke up now, as with a start " You were talk-
ing of a charter," said he.

" Was I ? " said Attwater. " Well, let's talk of it no
more at present."

"Your own schooner is overdue, I understand?"
continued the captain.

"You understand perfectly, Captain Brown," said
Attwater; "thirty-three days overdue at noon to-day."

"She comes and goes, eh? Flies between here
and ?" hinted the captain.

' ' Exactly ; every four months ; three trips in the year, "
said Attwater.

" You go in her, ever ? " asked Davis.

" No, I stop here," said Attwater; " one has plenty to
attend to here."

"Stop here, do you?" cried Davis. "Say, how
long?"

"How long, O Lord!" said Attwater, with perfect,
stern gravity. "But it does not seem so," he added,
with a smile.

"No, I dare say not," said Davis. "No, I suppose
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a berth as this. For it is a pretty snug berth/' said he,
with a sweeping look.

"The spot, as you are good enough to indicate, is
not entirely intolerable," was the reply.

"Shell, I suppose?" said Davis.

"Yes, there was shell," said Attwater.

"This is a considerable big beast of a lagoon, sir,"
said the captain. "Was there a — was the fishing —
would you call the fishing anyways good?"

"I don't know that I would call it anyways any-
thing," said Attwater, "if you put it to me direct"

"There were pearls, too?" said Davis.

" Pearls, too," said Attwater.

"Well, 1 give out! " laughed Davis, and his laughter
ran cracked like a false piece. " If you're not going to
tell, you're not going to tell, and there's an end to it"

"There can be no reason why 1 should affect the
least degree of secrecy about my island," returned Att-
water. "That came wholly to an end with your ar-
rival; and I am sure at any rate that gentlemen like you
and Mr. Whish I should have always been charmed to
make perfectly at home. The point on which we are
now differing — if you can call it a difference — is one
of times and seasons. I have some information which
you think I might impart, and I think not Well, we'll
see to-night! By-by, Whish!" He stepped into his
boat and shoved off. "AH understood, then?" said
he. " The captain and Mr. Whish at six-thirty, and
you, Hay, at four precise. You understand that, Hay ?
Mind, I take no denial. If you're not there by the time
named, there will be no banquet No song, no supper,
Mr. Whish!"

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White birds whisked in the air above, a shoal of party-
coloured fishes in the scarce denser medium below;
between, like Mahomet's coffin, the boat drew away
briskly on the surface, and its shadow followed it over
the glittering floor of the lagoon. Attwater looked
steadily back over his shoulders as he sat; he did
not once remove his eyes from the FaraUone and the
group on her quarter-deck beside the house, till his
boat ground upon the pier. Thence, with an agile pace,
he hurried ashore, and they saw his white clothes shin-
ing in the checkered dusk of the grove until the house
received him.

The captain, with a gesture and a speaking counte-
nance, called the adventurers into the cabin.

"Well," he said to Herrick, when they were seated,
"there's one good job at least He's taken to you in
earnest."

" Why should that be a good job ? " said Herrick.

"Oh, you'll see how it pans out presently," returned
Davis. " You go ashore and stand in with him, that's
all! You'll get lots of pointers; you can find out what
he has, and what the charter is, and who's the fourth
man, — for there's four of them, and we're only three."

"And suppose I do, what next?" cried Herrick.
"Answer me that!"

" So I will, Robert Herrick," said the captain. " But
first, let's see all clear. I guess you know," he said
with an imperious solemnity, " I guess you know the
bottom is about out of this Fprattone speculation ? I
guess you know it's rigbt out; and if this old island
hadn't turned up right when it did, I guess you know
where you and I and Huish would have been ? "

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' ' Yes, I know that, " said Herrick. • ' No matter who's
to blame, I know it And what next ? "

"No matter who's to blame, you know it, right
enough," said the captain, "and I'm obliged to you for
the reminder. Now here's this Attwater; what do you
think of him?"

"I do not know," said Herrick. "I am attracted
and repelled. He was insufferably rude to you."

"And you, Huish ?" said the captain.

Huish sat cleaning a favourite brier-root; he scarce
looked up from that engrossing task. "Don't ast me
what I think of him ! " he said. " There's a day com-
in', I pray Gawd, when I can tell it him myself."

"Huish means the same as what I do," said Davis.
"When that man came stepping around, and saying:
'Look here, I'm Attwater' — and you knew it was so,
by God! — I sized him right straight up. Here's the
real article, I said, and I don't like it; here's the real,
first-rate, copper-bottomed aristocrat. € Aw! don't
know ye, do I? God d — n ye, did God make ye? '
No, that couldn't be nothing but genuine; a man's got
to be born to that And notice! smart as champagne
and hard as nails; no kind of a fool; no, sir I not a
pound of him ! Well, what's he here upon this beastly
island for ? I said. He's not here collecting eggs. He's
a palace at home, and powdered flunkies ; and if he
don't stay there, you bet he knows the reason why!
Follow?"

"Oh, yes, I 'ear you," said Huish.

"He's been doing good business here, then," con-'
tinued the captain. " For years he's been doing a great
business. It's pearl and shell, of course; there couldn't

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be nothing else in such a place; and no doubt the shell
goes off regularly by this Trinity HaU, and the money
for it straight into the bank, so that's no use to us. But
what else is there ? Is there nothing else he would be
likely to keep here ? Is there nothing else he would be
bound to keep here? Yes, sir; the pearls! First, be-
cause they're too valuable to trust out of his hands.
Second, because pearls want a lot of handling and
matching; and the man who sells his pearls as they
come in, one here, one there, instead of hanging back
and holding up — well, that man's a fool, and it's not
Attwater."

"It's likely," said Huish, "that's w'at it is; not
proved, but likely."

"It's proved," said Davis, bluntly.

"Suppose it was?" said Herrick. "Suppose that
was all so, and he had these pearls, — years' and years'
collection of them? Suppose he had? There's my
question."

The captain drummed with his thick hands on the
board in front of him ; he looked steadily in Herrick's
face, and Herrick as steadily looked upon the table and
the pattering fingers. There was a gentle oscillation
of the anchored ship, and a big patch of sunlight trav-
elled to and fro between one and the other.

" Hear me! " Herrick burst out suddenly.

"No, you better hear me first," said Davis. "Hear
me and understand me. We've got no use for that fel-
low, whatever you may have. He's your kind, he's not
ours; he's took to you, and he's wiped his boots on
me and Huish. Save him if you can ! "

"Save him?" repeated Herrick.
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"Save him if you're able!" reiterated Davis, with a
blow of his clinched fist. "Go ashore, and talk him
smooth ; and if you get him and his pearls aboard, I'll
spare him. If you don't, there's going to be a funeral.
Is that so, Huish ? Does that suit you ? "

"I ain't a forgiving man," said Huish, "but I'm not
the sort to spoil business neither. Bring the bloke on
board, and his pearls along with him, and you can have
it your own way; maroon him where you like — I'm
agreeable."

" Well, and if I can't?" cried Herrick, while the sweat
streamed upon his face. "You talk to me as if I was
God Almighty, to do this and that! But if I can't ?"

"My son," said the captain, "you better do your
level best, or you'll see sights! "

"Oh, yes," said Huish. "Oh, crikey, yes!" He
looked across at Herrick with a toothless smile that
was shocking in its savagery; and, his ear caught ap-
parently by the trivial expression he had used, he broke
into a piece of the chorus of a comic song which he
must have heard twenty years before in London, —
meaningless gibberish that, in that hour and place,
seemed hateful as a blasphemy: " Hikey, pikey, crikey,
fikey, chillingawallaba dory."

The captain suffered him to finish; his face was un-
changed.

"The way things are, there's many a man that
wouldn't let you go ashore," he resumed. "But I'm
not that kind. I know you'd never go back on me,
Herrick! Or if you choose to — go and do it, and be
d — d ! " he cried, and rose abruptly from the table.

He walked out of the house, and, as he reached the
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door, turned and called Huish, suddenly and violently,
like the barking of a dog. Huish followed, and Herrick
remained alone in the cabin.

"Now, see here," whispered Davis; "I know that
man. If you open your mouth to him again, you'll
ruin aO. M

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BETTER ACQUAINTANCE

The boat was gone again, and already halfway to the
FaraUone, before Herrick turned and went unwillingly
up the pier. From the crown of the beach, the figure-
head confronted him with what seemed irony, her h$I-
meted head tossed back, her formidable arm apparently
hurling something, whether shell or missile, in the di-
rection of the anchored schooner. She seemed a defi-
ant deity from the island, coming forth to its threshold
with a rush as of one about to fly, and perpetuated in
that dashing attitude. Herrick looked up at her, where
she towered above him head and shoulders, with sin-
gular feelings of curiosity and romance, and suffered
his mind to travel to and fro in her life history. So long
she had been the blind conductress of a ship among
the waves; so long she had stood here idle in the vio-
lent sun that yet did not avail to blister her; and was
even this the end of so many adventures, he wondered,
or was more behind ? And he could have found it in his
heart to regret that she was not a goddess, nor yet he a
pagan, that he might have bowed down before her in
that hour of difficulty.

Where he now went forward, it was cool with the
shadow of many well-grown palms; draughts of the

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dying breeze swung them together overhead; and on
all sides, with a swiftness beyond dragon-flies or swal-
lows, the spots of sunshine flitted and hovered and re-
turned. Underfoot the sand was fairly solid and quite
level, and Herrick's steps fell there noiseless as in new-
fallen snow. It bore the marks of having been once
weeded like a garden alley at home; but the pestilence
had done its work, and the weeds were returning.
The buildings of the settlement showed here and there
through the stems of the colonnade, fresh-painted, trim
and dandy, and all silent as the grave. Only here and
there in the crypt there was a rustle and scurry and
sortie crowing of poultry ; and from behind the house
with the verandahs he saw smoke rise and heard the
crackling of a fire.

The store-houses were nearest him upon his right
The first was locked ; in the second he could dimly per-
ceive, through a window, a certain accumulation of
pearl shell piled in the far end; the third, which stood
gaping open on the afternoon, seized on the mind of
Herrick with its multiplicity and disorder of romantic
things. Therein were cables, windlasses, and blocks
of every size and capacity; cabin windows and ladders;
rusty tanks; a companion hatch; a binnacle with its
brass mountings, and its compass idly pointing, in the
confusion and dusk of that shed, to a forgotten pole;
ropes, anchors, harpoons; a blubber-dipper of copper,
green with years; a steering-wheel; a tool-chest with
the vessel's name upon the top, the Asia, — a whole
curiosity-shop of sea curios, gross and solid, heavy to
lift, ill to break, bound with brass and shod with iroa
Two wrecks at least must have contributed to this ran-

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dom heap of lumber; and as Herrick looked upon it, it
seemed to him as if the two ships' companies were
there on guard, and he heard the tread of feet and
whisperings, and saw with the tail of his eye the com-
monplace ghosts of sailormen.

This was not merely the work of an aroused imagi-
nation, but had something sensible to go upon. Sounds
of a stealthy approach were no doubt audible; and
while he still stood staring at the lumber, the voice of
his host sounded suddenly, and with even more than
the customary softness of enunciation, from behind.

"Junk," it said "only old junk! And does Mr. Hay
find a parable ? "

"I find at least a strong impression," replied Herrick,
turning quickly, lest he might be able to catch, on the
face of the speaker, some commentary on the words.

Attwater stood in the doorway, which he almost
wholly filled, his hands stretched above his head and
grasping the architrave. He smiled when their eyes met,
but the expression was inscrutable.

"Yes, a powerful impression. You are like me —
nothing so affecting as ships!" said he. "The ruins
of an empire would leave me frigid, when a bit of an
old rail that an old shellback leaned on in the middle
watch would bring me up all standing. But come, let's
see some more of the island. It's all sand and coral
and palm-trees; but there's a kind of quaintness in the
place."

"I find it heavenly," said Herrick, breathing deep,
with head bared in the shadow.

" Ah, that's because you're new from sea," said Att-
water. "I dare say, too, you can appreciate what one

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calls it It's a lovely name. It has a flavour, it has a
colour, it has a ring and fall to it; it's like its author—
it's half Christian! Remember your first view of the
island, and how it's only woods and water; and sup-
pose you had asked somebody for the name, and he
had answered, nemorosa Zacynthos."

"Jam medio apparet fiuctu J " exclaimed Herrick.
" Ye gods! yes, how good!"

"If it gets upon the chart, the skippers will make
nice work of it," said Attwater. " But here, come and
see the diving-shed."

He opened a door, and Herrick saw a large display of
apparatus neatly ordered, — pumps and pipes, and the
leaded boots, and the huge snouted helmets shining in
rows along the wall, — ten complete outfits.

"The whole eastern half of my lagoon is shallow,
you must understand," said Attwater; "so we were
able to get in the dress to great advantage. It paid be-
yond belief, and was a queer sight when they were at
it; and these marine monsters" — tapping the nearest
of the helmets — "kept appearing and reappearing in
the midst of the lagoon. Fond of parables ? " he asked
abruptly.

"Oh, yes! "said Herrick.

"Well, I saw these machines come up dripping and
go down again, and come up dripping and go down
again, and all the while the fellow inside as dry as
toast," said Attwater; "and I thought we all wanted a
dress to go down into the world in, and come up
scathless. What do you think the name was?" he
inquired.

"Self-conceit," said Herrick.
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" Ah, but I mean seriously/' said Attwater.

"Call it self-respect, then," corrected Herrick, with
a laugh.

"And why not grace ? Why not God's grace, Hay ?"
asked Attwater. "Why not the grace of your Maker
and Redeemer, he who died for you, he who upholds
you, he whom you daily crucify afresh ? There is noth-
ing here " — striking on his bosom — " nothing there "

— smiting the wall — ' ' and nothing there " — stamping

— "nothing but God's grace! We walk upon, we
breathe it; we live and die by it; it makes the nails
and axles of the universe; and a puppy in pyjamas pre-
fers self-conceit 1" The huge dark man stood over
against Herrick by the line of divers' helmets, and
seemed to swell and glow; and the next moment the
life had gone from him. " I beg your pardon," said he;
" I see you don't believe in God."

"Not in your sense, I am afraid," said Herrick.

"I never argue with young atheists or habitual drunk-
ards," said Attwater, flippantly. "Let us go across
the island to the outer beach."

It was but a little way, the greatest width of that
island scarce exceeding a furlong, and they walked
gently. Herrick was like one in a dream. He had
come there with a mind divided, — come prepared to
study that ambiguous and sneering mask, drag out the
essential man from underneath, and act accordingly;
decision being till then postponed. Iron cruelty, an
iron insensibility to the suffering of others, the uncom-
promising pursuit of his own interests, cold culture,
manners without humanity, — these he had looked for,
these he still thought he saw. But to find the whole

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machine thus glow with the reverberation of religious
zeal, surprised him beyond words; and he laboured in
vain, as he walked, to piece together into any kind of
whole his odds and ends of knowledge; to adjust again,
into any kind of focus with itself, his picture of the man
beside him.

"What brought you here to the South Seas?" he
asked presently.

"Many things," said Attwater. "Youth, curiosity,
romance, the love of the sea, and (it will surprise you
to hear) an interest in missions. That has a good deal
declined, which will surprise you less. They go the
wrong way to work; they are too parsonish, too much
of the old wife, and even the old apple- wife. Clothes,
clothes, are their idea; but clothes are not Christianity,
any more than they are the sun in heaven, or could take
the place of it! They think a parsonage with roses,
and church bells, and nice old women bobbing in the
lanes, are part and parcel of religion. But religion is a
savage thing, like the universe it illuminates; savage,
cold, and bare, but infinitely strong."

"And you found this island by an accident?" said
Herrick.

"As you did," said Attwater. "And since then I
have had a business and a colony and a mission of my
own. I was a man of the world before I was a Chris-
tian ; I'm a man of the world still, and I made my mis-
sion pay. No good ever came of coddling. A man
has to stand up in God's sight and work up to his weight
avoirdupois; then I'll talk to him, but not before. I
gave these beggars what they wanted, — a judge in
Israel, the bearer of the sword and scourge. I was

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making a new people here, and behold! the angel of the
Lord smote them, and they were not! "

With the very uttering of the words, which were ac-
companied by a gesture, they came forth out of the
porch of the palm wood by the margin of the sea, and
full in front of the sun, which was near setting. Be-
fore them the surf broke slowly. All around, with an
air of imperfect wooden things inspired with wicked
activity, the land-crabs trundled and scuttled into holes.
On the right, whither Attwater pointed and abruptly
turned, was the cemetery of the island, a field of broken
stones from the bigness of a child's hand to that of his
head, diversified by many mounds of the same mate-
rial, and walled by a rude rectangular enclosure of the
same. Nothing grew there but a shrub or two with
some white flowers; nothing but the number of the
mounds, and their disquieting shape, indicated the pres-
ence of the dead.

" 'The rude forefathers of the hamlet lie!'" quoted
Attwater, as he entered by the open gateway into that
unhomely close. " Coral to coral, pebbles to pebbles,"
he said ; " this has been the main scene of my activity
in the South Pacific. Some were good, and some bad,
and the majority (of course and always) null. Here
was a fellow, now, that used to frisk like a dog; if you
had called him, he came like an arrow from a bow ; if
you had not, and he came unbidden, you should have
seen the deprecating eye and the little intricate dancing
step. Well, his trouble is over now ; he has lain down
with kings and councillors; the rest of his acts, are
they not written in the Book of the Chronicles ? That
fellow was from Penrhyn ; like all the Penrhyn islanders

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he was ill to manage; heady, jealous, violent — the
man with the nose I He lies here quiet enough. And so
they all lie. 'And darkness was the burier of the dead. ' "

He stood, in the strong glow of the sunset, with
bowed head; his voice sounded now sweet and now
bitter, with the varying sense.

" You loved these people ?" cried Herrick, strangely
touched.

"1?" said Attwater. "Dear, no! Don't think me
a philanthropist I dislike men, and I hate women. If
I like the islands at all, it is because you see them here
plucked of their tendings, their dead birds and cocked
hats, their petticoats and coloured hose. Here was one
I liked, though/' and he set his foot upon a mound.
"He was a fine, savage fellow; he had a dark soul.
Yes, I liked this one. I am fanciful," he added, looking
hard at Herrick, "and I take fads. I like you."

Herrick turned swiftly, and looked far away to where
the clouds were beginning to troop together and amass
themselves round the obsequies of day. "No one can
like me," he said.

"You are wrong there," said the other, "as a man
usually is about himself. You are attractive, very at-
tractive."

"It is not me," said Herrick; "no one can like me.
If you knew how I despised myself — and why ! " His
voice rang out in the quiet graveyard.

"I knew that you despised yourself," said Attwater.
" I saw the blood come into your face to-day when you
remembered Oxford. And I could have blushed for
you myself, to see a man, a gentleman, with those two
vulgar wolves."

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Herrick faced him with a thrill. " Wolves ?" he re-
peated.

"1 said wolves, and vulgar wolves/' said Attwater.
" Do you know that to-day, when I came on board, I
trembled?"

" You concealed it well," stammered Herrick.

"A habit of mine," said Attwater. "But I was
afraid, for all that I was afraid of the two wolves."
He raised his hand slowly. "And now, Hay, you
poor, lost puppy, what do you do with the two
wolves ? "

" What do I do ? I don't do anything," said Herrick. ■
" There is nothing wrong; all is above board; Captain
Brown is a good soul; he is a — he is — " The phan-
tom voice of Davis called in his ear, "There's going to
be a funeral; " and the sweat burst forth and streamed
on his brow. "He is a family man," he resumed
again, swallowing; "he has children at. home, — and a
wife."

" And a very nice man ? " said Attwater. " And so
Is Mr. Whish, no doubt?"

" I won't go so far as that," said Herrick. " I do not
like Huish. And yet — he has his merits, too."

"And, in short, take them for all in all, as good a
ship's company as one would ask ? " said Attwater.

"Oh, yes," said Herrick, "quite."

"So, then, we approach the other point, of why you
despise yourself? " said Attwater.

"Do we not all despise ourselves?" cried Herrick.
"Do not you?"

" Oh, I say I do. But do I ? " said Attwater. " One
thing I know, at least; I never gave a cry like yours.

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Hay, it came from a bad conscience! Ah, man, that
poor diving-dress of self-conceit is sadly tattered! To-
day, if ye will hear my voice. To-day, now, while
the sun sets, and here in this burying-place of brown
innocents, fall on your knees and cast your sins and
sorrows on the Redeemer. Hay "

"Not Hay!" interrupted the other, strangling.
"Don't call me that! I mean — For God's sake, can't
you see I'm on the rack ?"

"I see it; I know it; I put and keep you there; my
fingers are on the screws," said Attwater. "Please
God, I will bring a penitent this night before His throne.
Come, come to the mercy seat ! He waits to be gracious,
man, — waits to be gracious ! "

He spread out his arms like a crucifix; his face shone
with the brightness of a seraph's; in his voice, as it
rose to the last word, the tears seemed ready.

Herrick made a vigorous call upon himself. "Att-
water," he said, "you push me beyond bearing. What
am I to do? I do not believe. It is living truth to
you; to me, upon my conscience, only folk-lore. I do
not believe there is any form of words under heaven by
which I can lift the burthen from my shoulders. I must
stagger on to the end with the pack of my responsi-
bility; 1 cannot shift it. Do you suppose I would not,
if I thought I could ? I cannot — cannot — cannot — and
let that suffice!"

The rapture was all gone from Attwater's counte-
nance; the dark apostle had disappeared, and in his
place there stood an easy, sneering gentleman, who
took off his hat and bowed. It was pertly done, and
the blood burned in Herrick's face.

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" What do you mean by that ? " he cried,

"Well, shall we go back to the house?" said Att-
water. " Our guests will soon be due."

Herrick stood his ground a moment, with clenched
fists and teeth ; and as he so stood, the fact of his errand
there slowly swung clear in front of him, like the moon
out of clouds. He had come to lure that man on board ;
he was failing, even if it could be said that he had tried;
he was sure to fail now, and knew it, and knew it was
better so. And what was to be next ?

With a groan he turned to follow his host, who was
standing with a polite smile, and instantly, and some*
what obsequiously, led the way into the now darkened
colonnade of palms. There they went in silence; the
earth gave up richly of her perfume, the air tasted warm
and aromatic in the nostrils, and, from a great way
forward in the wood, the brightness of lights and fire
marked out the house of Attwater.

Herrick meanwhile revolved and resisted an immense
temptation, to go up, to touch him on the arm, and
breathe a word in his ear: " Beware, they are going to
murder you. " There would be one life saved ; but what
of the two others ? The three lives went up and down
before him like buckets in a well, or like the scales of
balances. It had come to a choice, and one that must
be speedy. For certain invaluable minutes the wheels
of life ran before him, and he could still divert them
with a touch to the one side or the other; still choose
who was to live and who was to die. He considered
the men. Attwater intrigued, puzzled, dazzled, en-
chanted, and revolted him. Alive, he seemed but a
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so unwelcome that it pursued him, like a vision, with
every circumstance of colour and sound* Incessantly
he had before him the image of that great mass of man,
stricken down, in varying attitudes and with varying
wounds, — fallen prone, fallen supine, fallen on his side,
or clinging to a doorpost, with the changing face and
the relaxing fingers of the death agony. He heard the
click of the trigger, the thud of the ball, the cry of the
victim ; he saw the blood flow. And this building-up
of circumstance was like a consecration of the man, till
he seemed to walk in sacrificial fillets. Next he con-
sidered Davis, with his thick-fingered, coarse-grained,
oat-bread commonness of nature; his indomitable valour
and mirth in the old days of their starvation ; the en-
dearing blend of his faults and virtues; the sudden shin-
ing forth of a tenderness that lay too deep for tears; his
children, — Ada and her bowel complaint, and Ada's
doll. No, death could not be suffered to approach that
head, even in fancy. With a general heat and a brac-
ing of his muscles, it was borne in on Herrick that Ada's
father would find in him a son to the death. And even
Huish shared a little in that sacredness; by the tacit
adoption of daily life they were become brothers; there
was an implied bond of loyalty in their cohabitation of
the ship and of their past miseries, to which Herrick
must be a little true or wholly dishonoured. Horror of
sudden death for horror of sudden death, there was
here no hesitation possible; it must be Attwater. And
no sooner was the thought formed (which was a sen-
tence) than the whole mind of the man ran in a panic to
the other side; and when he looked within himself, he
was aware only of turbulence and inarticulate outcry.

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In all this there was no thought of Robert Herrick.
He had complied with the ebb-tide in man's affairs, and
the tide had carried him away; he heard already the
roaring of the maelstrom that must hurry him under.
And in his bedevilled and dishonoured soul there was
no thought of self.

For how long he walked silent by his companion,
Herrick had no guess. The clouds rolled suddenly
away; the orgasm was over; he found himself placid
with the placidity of despair; there returned to him the
power of commonplace speech: and he heard with sur-
prise his own voice say: " What a lovely evening 1 "

"Is it not?" said Attwater. "Yes, the evenings
here would be very pleasant if one had anything to do.
By day, of course, one can shoot."

"You shoot?" asked Herrick.

"Yes, I am what you would call a fine shot," said
Attwater. "It is faith; I believe my balls will go true;
if I were to miss once, it would spoil me for nine
months."

"You never miss, then ?" said Herrick.

"Not unless I mean to," said Attwater. "But to
miss nicely is the art. There was an old king one knew
in the Western Islands, who used to empty a Win-
chester all round a man, and stir his hair or nick a rag
out of his clothes with every ball except the last; and
that went plump between the eyes. It was pretty
practice."

" You could do that ? " asked Herrick, with a sudden
chill.

" Oh, I can do anything, " returned the other. • ' You
do not understand; what must be, must."

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They were now come near to the back part of the
house. One of the men was engaged about the cook-
ing-fire, which burned with the clear, fierce, essential
radiance of cocoanut shells. A fragrance of strange
meats was in the air. All round in the verandahs lamps
were lighted, so that the place shone abroad in the dusk
of the trees with many complicated patterns of shadow.

"Come and wash your hands," said Attwater, and
led the way into a clean, matted room with a cot-bed,
a safe, a shelf or two of books in a glazed case, and an
iron washing-stand. Presently he cried in the native
tongue, and there appeared for a moment in the door-
way a plump and pretty young woman with a clean
towel.

1 ' Hullo 1 " cried Herrick, who now saw for the first time
the fourth survivor of the pestilence, and was startled
by the recollection of the captain's orders.

"Yes," said Attwater, "the whole colony lives
about the house, — what's left of it We are all afraid
of devils, if you please, and Taniera and she sleep in the
front parlour, and the other boy on the verandah."

"She is pretty," said Herrick.

"Too pretty," said Attwater. "That was why 1
had her married. A man never knows when he may
be inclined to be a fool about women: so when we
were left alone, I had the pair of them to the chapel and
performed the ceremony. She made a lot of fuss. I
do not take at all the romantic views of marriage," he
explained.

"And that strikes you as a safeguard?" asked Her-
rick, with amazement.

"Certainly. I am a plain man, and very literal
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Whom God bath joined together, are the words, 1 fancy.
So one married them, and respects the marriage," said
Attwater.

"Ah!" said Herrick.

" You see, I may look to make an excellent marriage
when I go home," began Attwater, confidentially. " I
am rich. This safe alone " — laying his hand upon it —
"will be a moderate fortune when I have the time to
place the pearls upon the market Here are ten years'
accumulation from a lagoon where I have had as many
as ten divers going all day long; and I went farther
than people usually do in these waters, for I rotted a
lot of shell, and did splendidly. Would you like to
see them ? "

This confirmation of the captain's guess hit Herrick
hard, and he contained himself with difficulty. "No,
thank you, I think not," said he. "I do not care for
pearls. I am very indifferent to all these "

"Gewgaws?" suggested Attwater. "And yet I
believe you ought to cast an eye on my collection,
which is really unique, and which — Oh 1 it is the case
with all of us and everything about us 1 — hangs by a
hair. To-day it groweth up and flourisheth; to-mor-
row it is cut down and cast into the oven. To-day it
is here and together in this safe; to-morrow, to-night,
it may be scattered. Thou fool! this night thy soul
shall be required of thee."

" I do not understand you," said Herrick.

"Not? "said Attwater.

"You seem to speak in riddles," said Herrick, un-
steadily. "I do not understand what manner of man
you are, nor what you are driving at"

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Attwater stood with his hands upon his hips, and his
head bent forward, "lama fatalist,'' he replied, " and
just now (if you insist on it) an experimentalist Talk-
ing of which, by the by, who painted out the schooner's
name?" he said, with mocking softness. "Because,
do you know ? one thinks it should be done again. It
can still be partly read; and whatever is worth doing,
is surely worth doing well. You think with me?
That is so nice. Well, shall we step on the verandah ?
I have a dry sherry that I would like your opinion of."

Herrick followed him forth to where, under the light
of the hanging lamps, the table shone with napery and
crystal; followed him as the criminal goes with the
hangman, or the sheep with the butcher; took the sherry
mechanically, drank it, and spoke mechanical words of
praise. The object of his terror had become suddenly
inverted; till then he had seen Attwater trussed and
gagged, a helpless victim, and had longed to run in
and save him; he saw him now tower up mysterious
and menacing, the angel of the Lord's wrath, armed
with knowledge, and threatening judgment He set
down his glass again, and was surprised to see it
empty.

" You go always armed ?" he said, and the next mo-
ment could have plucked his tongue out

" Always," said Attwater. " I have been through a
mutiny here; that was one of my incidents of mission-
ary life."

And just then the sound of voices reached them, and
looking forth from the verandah, they saw Huish and the
captain drawing near.

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CHAPTER IX

THE DINNER-PARTY

They sat down to an island dinner remarkable for its
variety and excellence; turtle soup and steak, fish, fowls,
a sucking-pig, a cocoanut salad, and sprouting cocoa-
nut roasted for dessert. Not a tin had been opened;
and save for the oil and vinegar in the salad, and some
green spears of onion which Attwater cultivated and
plucked with his own hand, not even the condiments
were European. Sherry, hock, and claret succeeded
each other, and the Farattone champagne brought up
the rear with the dessert

It was plain that, like so many of the extremely re-
ligious in the days before teetotalism, Attwater had a
dash of the epicure. For such characters it is softening
to eat well; doubly so to have designed and had pre-
pared an excellent meal for others; and the manners of
their host were agreeably mollified in consequence. A
cat of huge growth sat on his shoulder purring, and oc-
casionally, with a deft paw, captured a morsel in the
air. To a cat he might be likened himself, as he lolled
at the head of his table, dealing out attentions and in-
nuendoes, and using the velvet and the claw indiffer-
ently. And both Huish and the captain fell progressively
under the charm of his hospitable freedom.

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Over the third guest, the incidents of the dinner may
be said to have passed for long unheeded. Herrick ac-
cepted all that was offered him, ate and drank without
tasting, and heard without comprehension. His mind
was singly occupied in contemplating the horror of the
circumstance in which he sat What Attwater knew,
what the captain designed, from which side treachery
was to be first expected, these were the ground of his
thoughts. There were times when he longed to throw
down the table and flee into the night And even that
was debarred him. To do anything, to say anything,
to move at all, were only to precipitate the barbarous
tragedy; and he sat spellbound, eating with white lips.
Two of his companions observed him narrowly; Att-
water with raking, side-long glances that did not inter-
rupt his talk, the captain with a heavy and anxious
consideration.

"Well, I must say this sherry is a really prime article,"
said Huish. " 'Ow much does it stand you in, if it's a
fair question?"

"A hundred and twelve shillings in London, and the
freight to Valparaiso and on again," said Attwater. " It
strikes one as really not a bad fluid."

" A 'undred and twelve! " murmured the clerk, relish-
ing the wine and the figures in a common ecstasy. ' ' Oh
my!"

"So glad you like it," said Attwater. " Help your-
self, Mr. Whish, and keep the bottle by you."

"My friend's name is Huish and not Whish, sir,"
said the captain, with a flush.

4 ■ I beg your pardon, I am sure. Huish and not Whish
— certainly," said Attwater. " I was about to say that

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I have still eight dozen/' he added, fixing the captain
with his eye,

" Eight dozen what ?" said Davis.

"Sherry," was the reply. "Eight dozen excellent
sherry. Why, it seems almost worth it in itself, to a
man fond of wine."

The ambiguous words struck home to guilty con-
sciences, and Huish and the captain sat up in their
places and regarded him with a scare.

"Worth what?" said Davis.

"A hundred and twelve shillings," replied Attwater.

The captain breathed hard for a moment. He reached
out far and wide to find any coherency in these remarks;
then, with a great effort, changed the subject.

" I allow we are about the first white men upon this
island, sir," said he.

Attwater followed him at once, and with entire grav-
ity, to the new ground. "Myself and Dr. Symonds ex-
cepted, I should say the only ones, " he returned. ' f And
yet who can tell? In the course of the ages some one
may have lived here, and we sometimes think that some
one must. The cocoa palms grow all round the island,
which is scarce like Nature's planting. We found, be-
sides, when we landed, an unmistakable cairn upon the
beach ; use unknown, but probably erected in the hope
of gratifying some mumbo-jumbo whose very name is
forgotten, by some thick-witted gentry whose very
bones are lost. Then the island (witness the ' Direc-
tory ') has been twice reported; and since my tenancy
we have had two wrecks, both derelict. The rest is
conjecture."

"Dr. Symonds is your partner, I guess ? " said Davis.

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" A dear fellow, Symonds ! How he would regret it,
if he knew you had been here/' said Attwater.

"'E 's on the Trinity 'AH, ain't he?" asked Huish.

41 And if you could tell me where the Trinity 'All
was, you would confer a favour, Mr. Whish ! " was the
reply.

"I suppose she has a native crew?" said Davis.

"Since the secret has been kept ten years, one would
suppose she had," replied Attwater.

"Well, now, see 'ere!" said Huish. "You have
everything about you in no end style, and no mistake,
but 1 tell you it would n't do for me. Too much of f the
old rustic bridge by the mill; ' too retired by 'alf. Give
me the sound of Bow Bells ! "

"You must not think it was always so," replied Att-
water. "This was once a busy shore, although now,
hark! you can hear the solitude. I find it stimulating.
And talking of the sound of bells, kindly follow a little
experiment of mine in silence." There was a silver bell
at his right hand to call the servants; he made them a
sign to stand still, struck the bell with force, and leaned
eagerly forward. The note rose clear and strong; it
rang out clear and far into the night and over the de-
serted island ; it died into the distance until there only
lingered in the porches of the ear a vibration that was
sound no longer. " Empty houses, empty sea, solitary
beaches!" said Attwater. "And yet God hears the
bell ! And yet we sit in this verandah, on a lighted stage,
with all heaven for spectators! And you call that soli-
tude?"

There followed a bar of silence, during which the
captain sat mesmerised.

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Then Attwater laughed softly. "These are the di-
versions of a lonely man/' he resumed, "and possibly
not in good taste. One tells one's self these little fairy
tales for company. If there should happen to be any-
thing in folk-lore, Mr. Hay ? But here comes the claret.
One does not offer you Laffitte, captain, because I be-
lieve it is all sold to the railroad dining-cars in your great
country: but this Br&ne-mouton is of a good year, and
Mr. Whish will give me news of it"

"That's a queer idea of yours!" cried the captain,
bursting with a sigh from the spell that had bound him.
" So you mean to tell me, now, that you sit here even-
ings and ring up G — well, ring on the angels — by
yourself?"

" As a matter of historic fact, and since you put it di-
rectly, one does not," said Attwater. "Why ring a
bell, when there flows out from one's self and every-
thing about one a far more momentous silence ? The
least beat of my heart, and the least thought in my mind,
echoing into eternity forever and forever and forever."

"Oh, look 'ere," said Huish, "turn down the lights
at once, and the Band of 'Ope will oblige! This ain't a
spiritual stance."

" No folk-lore about Mr. Whish — I beg your pardon,
captain; Huish, not Whish, of course," said Attwater.

As the boy was filling Huish's glass, the bottle escaped
from his hand and was shattered, and the wine spilt on
the verandah floor. Instant grimness as of death ap-
peared in the face of Attwater; he smote the bell im-
periously, and the two brown natives fell into the atti-
tude of attention, and stood mute and trembling. There
was a moment of silence and hard looks; then followed

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a few savage words in the native; and, upon a gesture
of dismissal, the service proceeded as before.

None of the party had as yet observed upon the ex-
cellent bearing of the two men. They were dark, un-
dersized, and well set up; stepped softly, waited deftly,
brought on the wines and dishes at a look, and their
eyes attended studiously on their master.

" Where do you get your labour from, anyway?"
asked Davis.

"Ah, where not?" answered Attwater.

" Not much of a soft job, I suppose ? " said the cap-
tain.

" If you will tell me where getting labour is," said
Attwater, with a shrug. " And, of course, in our case,
as we could name no destination, we had to go far and
wide, and do the best we could. We have gone as far
west as the Kingsmills, and as far south as Rapa-iti.
Pity Symonds isn't here! He is full of yarns. That
was his part, to collect them. Then began mine, which
was the educational."

"You mean to run them?" said Davis.

"Ay, to run them," said Attwater.

"Wait a bit," said Davis, "I'm out of my depth.
How was this ? Do you mean to say you did it single-
handed?"

"One did it single-handed," said Attwater, "because
there was nobody to help one."

"By God, but you must be a holy terror! " cried the
captain, in a glow of admiration.

"One does one's best," said Attwater.

"Well, now!" said Davis, "I have seen a lot of
driving in my time, and been counted a good driver

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myself; I fought my way, third mate, round the Cape
Horn with a push of packet-rats that would have turned
the Devil out of hell and shut the door on him; and, I
tell you, this racket of Mr. Attwater's takes the cake.
In a ship, — why there ain't nothing to it! You've got
the law with you, that's what does it. But put me
down on this blame' beach, alone, with nothing but a
whip and a mouthful of bad words, and ask me to — no,
sir I it's not good enough! 1 haven't got the sand for
that! " cried Davis. " It's the law behind," he added;
" it's the law does it, every time! "

"The beak ain't as black as he's sometimes pynted,"
observed Huish, humorously.

"Well, one got the law after a fashion," said Att-
water. "One had to be a number of things. It was
sometimes rather a bore."

"I should smile!" said Davis. " Rather lively, I
should think."

" I dare say we mean the same thing," said Attwater.
"However, one way or another, one got it knocked
into their heads that they must work, and they did —
until the Lord took them."

"'Ope you made 'em jump," said Huish.

"When it was necessary, Mr. Whish, I made them
jump," said Attwater.

" You bet you did! " cried the captain. He was a
good deal flushed, but not so much with wine as admi-
ration ; and his eyes drank in the huge proportions of
the other with delight. " You bet you did, and you bet
that I can see you doing it. By God, you're a man ; and
you can say I said so! "

"Too good of you, I'm sure," said Attwater.

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" Did you — did you ever have crime here?" asked
Herrick, breaking his silence with a plangent voice.

"Yes," said Attwater, " we did."

" And how did you handle that sir ? " cried the eager
captain.

' ' Well, you see, it was a queer case, " replied Attwater.
" It was a case that would have puzzled Solomon.
Shall I tell it you? Yes?"

The captain rapturously accepted.

"Well," drawled Attwater, "here is what it was. I
dare say you know two types of natives, which may be
called the obsequious and the sullen ? Well, one had
them, — the types themselves, — detected in the fact;
and one had them together. Obsequiousness ran out
of the first, like wine out of a bottle; sullenness con-
gested in the second. Obsequiousness was all smiles;
he ran to catch your eye; he loved to gabble; and he
had about a dozen words of beach English, and an
eighth of an inch veneer of Christianity. Sullens was
industrious; a big, down-looking bee. When he was
spoken to, he answered with a black look and a shrug
of one shoulder, but the thing would be done. 1 don't
give him to you for a model of manners; there was
nothing showy about Sullens, but he was strong and
steady, and ungraciously obedient. Now, Sullens got
into trouble ; no matter how ; the regulations of the place
were broken, and he was punished accordingly — with-
out effect. So the next day, and the next, and the day
after, till 1 began to be weary of the business, and Sul-
lens (I am afraid) particularly so. There came a day
when he was in fault again, for perhaps the thirtieth
time; and he rolled a dull eye upon me, with a spark In

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it and appeared to be about to speak. Now, the regu-
lations of the place are formal upon one point: we allow
no explanations. None are received, none allowed to
be offered. So one stopped him instantly, but made a
note of the circumstance. The next day he was gone
from the settlement There could be nothing more an*
noying; if the labour took to running away, the fishery
was wrecked. There are sixty miles of this island, you
see, all in length, like the Qyeen's Highway; the idea
of pursuit in such a place was a piece of single-minded
childishness, which one did not entertain. Two days
later I made a discovery. It came in upon me with a
flash that Sullens had been unjustly punished from be-
ginning to end, and the real culprit throughout had
been Obsequiousness. The native who talks, like the
woman who hesitates, is lost. You set him talking
and lying, and he talks and lies, and watches your face
to see if he has pleased you, till at last out comes the
truth! It came out of Obsequiousness in the regular
course. I said nothing to him ; I dismissed him ; and,
late as it was, for it was already night, set off to look
for Sullens. I had not far to go; about two hundred
yards up the island the moon showed him to me. He
was hanging in a cocoa palm — I'm not botanist enough
to tell you how — but it's the way, in nine cases out of
ten, these natives commit suicide. His tongue was out,
poor devil, and the birds had got at him. I spare you
details; he was an ugly sight! I gave the business six
good hours of thinking in this verandah. My justice had
been made a fool of. I don't suppose that 1 was ever
angrier. Next day I had the conch sounded and all
hands out before sunrise. One took one's gun and led

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the way with Obsequiousness. He was very talkative;
the beggar supposed that all was right, now he had
confessed. In the old schoolboy phrase, he was plainly
'sucking up' to me; full of protestations of good will
and good behaviour, to which one answered one really
can't remember what Presently the tree came in sight,
and the hanged man. They all burst out lamenting for
their comrade in the island way, and Obsequiousness
was the loudest of the mourners. He was quite genu-
ine; a noxious creature, without any consciousness of
guilt Well, presently — to make a long story short —
one told him to go up the tree. He stared a bit, looked
at one with a trouble in his eye, and had rather a sickly
smile, but went He was obedient to the last; he had
all the pretty virtues, but the truth was not in him. So
soon as he was up, he looked down, and there was the
rifle covering him; and at that he gave a whimper
like a dog. You could hear a pin drop; no more keen-
ing now. There they all crouched upon the ground
with bulging eyes; there was he in the tree-top, the
colour of lead ; and between was the dead man, dancing
a bit in the air. He was obedient to the last, recited
his crime, recommended his soul to God. And
then "

Attwater paused, and Herrick, who had been listening
attentively, made a convulsive movement which upset
his glass.

"And then ?" said the breathless captain.

" Shot," said Attwater. " They came to ground to-
gether."

Herrick sprang to his feet with a shriek and an in-
sensate gesture.

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" It was a murder," he screamed. " A cold-hearted,
bloody-minded murder! You monstrous being! Mur-
derer and hypocrite! Murderer and hypocrite! Mur-
derer and hypocrite!" he repeated, and his tongue
stumbled among the words.

The captain was by him in a moment. " Herrickl "
he cried, "behave yourself! Here, don't be a blame'
fool!"

Herrick struggled in his embrace like a frantic child,
and suddenly bowing his face in his hands, choked into
a sob, the first of many, which now convulsed his body
silently, and now jerked from him indescribable and
meaningless sounds.

"Your friend appears over-excited," remarked Att-
water, sitting unmoved, but all alert, at table.

"It must be the wine," replied the captain. "He
ain't no drinking man, you see. I — I think I'll take
him away. A walk'II sober him up, I guess."

Hejed him without resistance out of the verandah and
into the night, in which they soon melted; but still for
some time, as they drew away, his comfortable voice
was to be heard soothing and remonstrating, and Her-
rick answering, at intervals, with the mechanical noises
of hysteria.

"'E's like a bloomin' poultry yard," observed Huish,
helping himself to wine (of which he spilled a good
deal) with gentlemanly ease. "A man should learn to
beyave at table," he added.

" Rather bad form, is it not ? " said Attwater. "Well,
well, we are left Ute-d-tete. A glass of wine with you,
Mr. Whish!"

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THE OPEN DOOR

The captain and Herrick meanwhile turned their backs
upon the lights in Attwater's veranda, and took a direc-
tion towards the pier and the beach of the lagoon.

The isle, at this hour, with its smooth floor of sand,
the pillared roof overhead, and the prevalent illumina-
tion of the lamps, wore an air of unreality, like a de-
serted theatre or a public garden at midnight A man
looked about him for the statues and tables. Not the
least air of wind was stirring among the palms, and the
silence was emphasised by the continuous clamour of
the surf from the sea-shore, as it might be of traffic in
the next street

Still talking, still soothing him, the captain hurried
his patient on, brought him at last to the lagoon side,
and, leading him down the beach, laved his head and
face with the tepid water. The paroxysm gradually
subsided, the sobs became less convulsive, and then
ceased. By an odd but not quite unnatural conjunc-
tion, the captain's soothing current of talk died away at
the same time, and by proportional steps, and the pair
remained sunk in silence. The lagoon broke at their
feet in petty wavelets, and with a sound as delicate as
a whisper; stars of all degrees looked down on their

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own images in the vast mirror; and the more angry
colour of the FaraBone's riding-lamp burned in the mid-
dle distance. For long they continued to gaze on the
scene before them, and hearken anxiously to the rustle
and tinkle of that miniature surf, or the more distant
and loud reverberations from the outer coast. For long,
speech was denied them ; and when the words came at
last, they came to both simultaneously.

"Say, Herrick " the captain was beginning.

But Herrick, turning swiftly towards his companion,
beat him down with the eager cry: "Let's up anchor,
captain, and to sea!"

"Where to, my son?" said the captain. "Up an-
chor's easy saying. But where to ? "

"To sea," responded Herrick. "The sea's big
enough! To sea, away from this dreadful island and
that — oh — that sinister man! "

' ' Oh, we'll see about that ! " said Davis. • - You brace
up, and we'll see about that. You're all run down,
that's what's wrong with you. You're all nerves like
Jemimar. You've got to brace up good, and be your-
self again, and then we'll talk."

"To sea," reiterated Herrick; "to sea to-night —
now — this moment!"

"It can't be, my son," replied the captain firmly.
"No ship of mine puts to sea without provisions; you
can take that for settled."

"You don't seem to understand," said Herrick.
"The whole thing is over, I tell you. There is noth-
ing to do here, when he knows all. That man there
with the cat knows all. Can't you take it in ? "

" All what ? " asked the captain, visibly discomposed.
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"Why, he received us like a perfect gentleman, and
treated us real handsome until you began with your
foolery; and I must say I've seen men shot for less, and
nobody sorry! What more do you expect, anyway ?"

Herrick rocked to and fro upon the sand, shaking his
head.

" Guying us," he said. " He was guying us — only
guying us; it's all we're good for."

" There was one queer thing, to be sure," admitted
the captain, with a misgiving of the voice; " that about
the sherry. D — d if I caught on to that Say, Her-
rick, you didn't give me away ?"

" Oh ! give you away ! " repeated Herrick with weary,
querulous scorn. "What was there to give away?
We're transparent; we've got rascal branded on us; de-
tected rascal — detected rascal! Why, before he came
on board, there was the name painted out, and he saw
the whole thing. He made sure we would kill him
there and then, and stood guying you and Huish on the
chance. He calls that being frightened! Next he had
me ashore; a fine time I had! The two wolves, he calls
you and Huish. What is the puppy doing with the two
wolves? he asked. He showed me his pearls; he said
they might be dispersed before morning, and aU bung
by a bait — and smiled as hesaid it ; such a smile ! Oh,
it's no use, I tell you! He knows all; he sees through
all. We only make him laugh with our pretences — he
looks at us, and laughs like God ! "

There was a silence. Davis stood with contorted
brows, gazing into the night

"The pearls?" he said suddenly. "He showed
them to you ? He has them ? "

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"No, he didn't show them. I forgot; only the safe
they were in," said Herrick. "But you'll never get
them!"

" I've two words to say to that," said the captain.

" Do you think he would have been so easy at table
unless he was prepared?" cried Herrick. "The ser-
vants were both armed. He was armed himself; he
always is, he told me. You will never deceive his vig-
ilance. Davis, I know it! It's all up, I tell you, and
keep telling you, and proving it. All up ; all up ! There's
nothing for it, there's nothing to be done. All gone —
life, honour, love. O my God! my God! why was I
born?"

Another pause followed upon this outburst

The captain put his hands to his brow.

" Another thing! " he broke out. " Why did he tell
you all this ? Seems like madness to me."

Herrick shook his head with gloomy iteration. " You
wouldn't understand if I were to tell you," said he.

" I guess I can understand any blame' thing that you
can tell me," said the captain.

" Well, then, he's a fatalist," said Herrick.

" What's that— a fatalist?" said Davis.

"Oh, it's a fellow that believes a lot of things," said
Herrick. "Believes that his bullets go true; believes
that all falls out as God chooses, do as you like to pre-
vent it; and all that."

"Why, I guess I believe right so myself," said Davis.

"You do?" said Herrick.

" You bet I do! " said Davis.

Herrick shrugged his shoulders. " Well, you must be
a fool," said he, and he leaned his head upon his knees.

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The captain stood biting his hands.

" There's one thing sure," he said at last "I must
get Huish out of that He's not fit to hold his end up
with a man like you describe."

And he turned to go away. The words had been
quite simple; not so the tone, and the other was quick
to catch it

"Davis!" he cried, "no! Don't do it! Spare me,
and don't do it! Spare yourself, and leave it alone —
for God's sake! for your children's sake! "

His voice rose to a passionate shrillness; another mo-
ment, and he might be overheard by their not distant
victim. But Davis turned on him with a savage oath
and gesture; and the miserable young man rolled over
on his face on the sand, and lay speechless and helpless.

The captain meanwhile set out rapidly for Attwater's
house. As he went, he considered with himself eagerly,
his thoughts racing. The man had understood; he had
mocked them from the beginning. He would teach him
to make a mockery of John Davis! Herrick thought
him a god. Give him a second to aim in, and the god
was overthrown. He chuckled as he felt the butt of
his revolver. It should be done now, as he went in.
From behind ? It was difficult to get there. From
across the table? No; the captain preferred to shoot
standing, so as you could be sure to get your hand upon
your gun. The best would be to summon Huish, and
when Attwater stood up and turned — ah, then would
be the moment! Wrapped in this ardent prefiguration
of events, the captain posted towards the house with
his head down.

" Hands up! Halt! " cried the voice of Attwater.
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And the captain, before he knew what he was doing,
had obeyed. The surprise was complete and irremedi-
able. Coming on the top crest of his murderous inten-
tions, he had walked straight into an ambuscade, and
now stood, with his hands impotently lifted, staring at
the verandah.

The party was now broken up. Attwater leaned on
a post, and kept Davis covered with a Winchester.
One of the servants was hard by, with a second at the
port arms, leaning a little forward, round-eyed with
eager expectancy. In the open space at the head of the
stair, Huish was partly supported by the other native,
his face wreathed in meaningless smiles, his mind
seemingly sunk in the contemplation of an unlighted
cigar.

"Well," said Attwater, "you seem to me to be a
very twopenny pirate!"

The captain uttered a sound in his throat for which
we have no name; rage choked him.

"I'm going to give you Mr. Whish — or the wine-
sop that remains of him," continued Attwater. "He
talks a great deal when he drinks, Captain Davis of the
Sea Ranger. But I have quite done with him, and re-
turn the article with thanks. Now," he cried sharply,
"another false movement like that, and your family
will have to deplore the loss of an invaluable parent;
keep strictly still, Davis."

Attwater said a word in the native, his eye still un-
deviatingly fixed on the captain, and the servant thrust
Huish smartly forward from the brink of the stair.
With an extraordinary simultaneous dispersion of his
members, that gentleman bounded forth into space,

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struck the earth, ricochetted, and brought up with his
arms about a palm. His mind was quite a stranger to
these events. The expression of anguish that deformed
his countenance at the moment of the leap was probably
mechanical. And he suffered these convulsions in si-
lence; clung to the tree like an infant; and seemed, by
his dips, to suppose himself engaged in the pastime of
bobbing for apples. A more finely sympathetic mind,
or a more observant eye, might have remarked, a little
in front of him on the sand, and still quite beyond reach,
the unlighted cigar.

" There is your Whitechapel carrion ! " said Attwater.
" And now you might very well ask me why I do not
put a period to you at once, as you deserve. I will tell
you why, Davis. It is because I have nothing to do
with the Sea Ranger and the people you drowned, or
the FaraOone and the champagne that you stole. That
is your account with God; He keeps it, and He will
settle it when the clock strikes. In my own case, I
have nothing to go on but suspicion; and I do not kill
on suspicion, not even vermin like you. But under-
stand; if ever I see any of you again, it is another mat-
ter, and you shall eat a bullet And now take yourself
off. March I And as you value what you call your life,
keep your hands up as you go 1 "

The captain remained as he was, his hands up, his
mouth open, mesmerised with fury.

" March ! " said Attwater. " One, two, three 1 "

And Davis turned and passed slowly away. But
even as he went, he was meditating a prompt, offen-
sive return. In the twinkling of an eye he had leaped
behind a tree, and was crouching there, pistol in hand,

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peering from either side of his place of ambush with
bared teeth, a serpent already poised to strike. And
already he was too late. Attwater and his servants had
disappeared, and only the lamps shone on the deserted
table and the bright sand about the house, and threw
into the night in all directions the strong and tall shad-
ows of the palms.

Davis ground his teeth. Where were they gone, the
cowards? To what hole had they retreated beyond
reach? It was in vain he should try anything — he,
single, and with a second-hand revolver, against three
persons armed with Winchesters, and who did not
show an ear out of any of the apertures of that lighted
and silent house. Some of them might have already
ducked below it from the rear, and be drawing a bead
upon him at that moment from the low-browed crypt,
the receptacle of empty bottles and broken crockery.
No, there was nothing to be done but to bring away (if
it were still possible) his shattered and demoralised
forces.

" Huish," he said, "come along."

"'s loss my ciga'," said Huish, reaching vaguely for-
ward.

The captain let out a rasping oath. "Come right
along here!" said he.

* ' 's all righ'. Sleep here 'th Atty — Attwa. Go boar*
t'monV' replied the festive one.

" If you don't come, and come now, by the living
God I'll shoot you! " cried the captain.

It is not to be supposed that the sense of these words
in any way penetrated to the mind of Huish; rather
that, in a fresh attempt upon the cigar, he over-balanced

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himself, and came flying erratically forward, a course
which brought him within reach of Davis.

" Now you walk straight," said the captain, clutching
him, "or I'll know why not"

" 's loss my ciga\" replied Huish.

The captain's contained fury blazed up for a moment
He twisted Huish round, grasped him by the neck of the
coat, ran him in front of him to the pier end, and flung
him savagely forward on his face.

"Look for your cigar, then, you swine 1" said he;
and blew his boat-call till the pea in it ceased to rattle.

An immediate activity responded on board the Fa ral~
lone; far away voices, and soon the sound of oars,
floated along the surface of the lagoon ; and at the same
time, from nearer hand, Herrick aroused himself and
strolled languidly up. He bent over the insignificant
figure of Huish, where it grovelled, apparently insen-
sible, at the base of the figure-head.

"Dead?" he asked.

"No, he's not dead," said Davis.

"And Attwater?" asked Herrick.

"Now you just shut your head ! " replied Davis. "You
can do that, I fancy ; and by God, I'll show you how ! I'll
stand no more of your drivel."

They waited accordingly in silence till the boat bumped
on the farthest piers, then raised Huish, head and heels,
carried him down the gangway, and flung him sum-
marily in the bottom. On the way out he was heard
murmuring of the loss of his cigar; and after he had
been handed up the side like baggage, and cast down
in the alleyway to slumber, his last audible expression
was: "Splen'l fl' Attwa! " This the expert construed

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into " Splendid fellow, Attwater ! " With so much in-
nocence had this great spirit issued from the adventures
of the evening.

The captain went and walked in the waist with
brief, irate turns; Herrick leaned his arms on the taflf-
rail; the crew had all turned in. The ship had a gen-
tle, cradling motion; at times a block piped like a bird.
On shore, through the colonnade of palm stems, Alt-
water's house was to be seen shining steadily with
many lamps. And there was nothing else visible,
whether in the heaven above or in the lagoon below,
but the stars and their reflections. It might have been
minutes or it might have been hours that Herrick
leaned there, looking in the glorified water and drink-
ing peace. " A bath of stars," he was thinking, when
a hand was laid at last on his shoulder.

" Herrick," said the captain, " I've been walking off
my trouble/'

A sharp jar passed through the young man, but he
neither answered nor so much as turned his head.

"I guess I spoke a little rough to you on shore, "
pursued the captain. "The fact is, I was real mad;
but now it's over and you and me have to turn to and
think."

" I will not think," said Herrick.

"Here, old man," said Davis kindly, "this won't
fight, you know. You've got to brace up and help
me get things straight You're not going back on a
friend? That's not like you, Herrick."

"Oh, yes, it is," said Herrick.

"Come, come!" said the captain, and paused as if
quite at a loss. "Look here," he cried, "you have a

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glass of champagne; /won't touch it, so that'll show
you if I'm in earnest But it's just the pick-me-up for
you; it'll put an edge on you at once."

"Oh, you leave me alone," said Herrick, and turned
away.

The captain caught him by the sleeve, and Herrick
shook him off and turned on him, for the moment, like
a demoniac.

" Go to hell in your own way 1 " he cried.

And he turned away again, this time unchecked, and
stepped forward to where the boat rocked alongside,
and ground occasionally against the schooner. He
looked about him; a corner of the house was interposed
between the captain and himself; all was well; no eye
must see him in that last act He slid silently in the
boat, thence silently into the starry water. Instinct-
ively he swam a little; it would be time enough to stop
by and by.

The shock of the immersion brightened his mind
immediately; the events of the ignoble day passed be-
fore him in a frieze of pictures; and he thanked "what-
ever gods there be " for that open door of suicide. In
such a little while he would be done with it, the ran-
dom business at an end, the prodigal son come home.
A very bright planet shone before him and drew a
trenchant wake along the water. He took that for his
line and followed it; that was the last earthly thing
that he should look upon; that radiant speck, which
he had soon magnified into a city of Laputa, along
whose terraces there walked men and women of awful
and benignant features, who viewed him with distant
commiseration. These imaginary spectators consoled

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him; he told himself their talk, one to another; it was
of himself and his sad destiny.

From such flights of fancy he was aroused by the
growing coldness of the water. Why should he de-
lay ? Here, where he was now, let him drop the cur-
tain, let him seek the ineffable refuge, let him lie down
with all races and generations of men in the house of
sleep. It was easy to say, easy to do. To stop swim-
ming — there was no mystery in that, if he could do it
Could he ? And he could not. He knew it instantly.
He was aware instantly of an opposition in his mem-
bers, unanimous and invincible, clinging to life with a
single and fixed resolve, finger by finger, sinew by
sinew; something that was at once he and not he; at
once within and without him ; the shutting of some
miniature valve in his brain, which a single manly
thought should suffice to open; and the grasp of an ex-
ternal fate ineluctable as gravity. To any man there may
come at times a consciousness that there blows through
all the articulations of his body the wind of a spirit not
wholly his; that his mind rebels; that another girds
him and carries him whither he would not. It came
now to Herrick, with the authority of a revelation.
There was no escape possible. The open door was
closed in his recreant face. He must go back into the
world and amongst men without illusion. He must
stagger on to the end with the pack of his responsibility
and his disgrace, until a cold, a blow, a merciful chance
ball, or the more merciful hangman, should dismiss
him from his infamy. There were men who could
commit suicide: there were men who could not; and
he was one who could not.

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For perhaps a minute there raged in his mind the
coil of this discovery; then cheerless certitude followed,
and, with an incredible simplicity of submission to as-
certained feet, he turned round and struck out for shore.
There was a courage in this which he could not ap-
preciate, the ignobility of his cowardice wholly occu-
pying him. A strong current set against him like a
wind in his face; he contended with it heavily, wearily,
without enthusiasm, but with substantial advantage;
marking his progress the while, without pleasure, by
the outline of the trees. Once he had a moment of
hope. He heard to the southward of him, towards the
centre of the lagoon, the wallowing of some great fish,
doubtless a shark, and paused for a little, treading wa-
ter. Might not this be the hangman? he thought
But the wallowing died away; mere silence succeeded;
and Herrick pushed out again for the shore, raging as
he went at his own nature. Ay, he would wait for the
shark; but if he had heard him coming — His smile
was tragic. He could have spat upon himself.

About three in the morning, chance and the set of
the current, and the bias of his own right-handed body,
so decided it between them that he came to shore upon
the beach in front of Attwater*s. There he sat down,
and looked forth into a world without any of the lights
of hope. The poor diving-dress of self-conceit was
sadly tattered. With the fairy tale of suicide, of a ref-
uge always open to him, he had hitherto beguiled and
supported himself in the trials of life; and behold! that
also was only a fairy tale ; that also was folk-lore. With
the consequences of his acts he saw himself implacably
confronted for the duration of life, stretched upon a

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cross, and nailed there with the iron bolts of his own
cowardice. He had no tears, he told himself no stories.
His disgust with himself was so complete, that even
the process of apologetic mythology had ceased. He
was like a man cast down from a pillar and every bone
broken; he lay there, and admitted the facts, and did
not attempt to rise.

Dawn began to break over the far side of the atoll,
the sky brightened, the clouds became dyed with gor-
geous colours, the shadows of the night lifted. And
suddenly Herrick was aware that the lagoon and the
trees wore again their daylight livery; and he saw, on
board the Farattone, Davis extinguishing the lantern,
and smoke rising from the galley.

Davis, without doubt, remarked and recognised the
figure on the beach — or, perhaps, hesitated to recog-
nise it — for after he had gazed a long while from un-
der his hand, he went into the house and fetched a
glass. It was very powerful; Herrick had often used
it. With an instinct of shame, he hid his face in his
hands.

"And what brings you here, Mr. Herrick-Hay, or
Mr. Hay-Herrick ? " asked the voice of Attwater. • ' Your
back view from my present position is remarkably fine,
and I would continue to present it. We can get on very
nicely as we are, and if you were to turn round, do
you know, I think it would be awkward."

Herrick slowly rose to his feet; his heart throbbed
hard; a hideous excitement shook him, but he was
master of himself. Slowly he turned and faced Att-
water and the muzzle of a pointed rifle. "Why could
I not do that last night ?" he thought

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"Well, why don't you fire?" he said aloud, with a
voice that trembled

Attwater slowly put his gun under his arm, then his
hands in his pockets.

" What brings you here ?" he repeated.

" I don't know," said Herrick; and then, with a ay,
" Can you do anything with me ?"

"Are you armed?" said Attwater. "1 ask for the
form's sake."

"Armed? No!" said Herrick. "Oh, yes, I am,
tool"

And he flung upon the beach a dripping pistol

" You are wet," said Attwater.

" Yes, I am wet," said Herrick. " Can you do any-
thing with me ? "

Attwater read his face attentively.

" It would depend a good deal upon what you are,"
said he.

' 'What ? I am a coward ! " said Herrick.

"There is very little to be done with that," said
Attwater. " And yet the description hardly strikes one
as exhaustive."

" Oh 1 what does it matter ? " cried Herrick. " Here
I am. I am broken crockery; the whole of my life is
gone to water; I have nothing left that I believe in, ex*
cept my living horror of myself. Why do 1 come to
you ? I don't know. You are cold, cruel, hateful; and
I hate you, or I think I hate you. But you are an honest
man, an honest gentleman. I put myself helpless in
your hands. What must I do ? If I can't do anything,
be merciful, and put a bullet through me; it's only a
puppy with a broken leg! "

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" If I were you, I would pick up that pistol, come up
to the house, and put on some dry clothes/ 9 said
Attwater.

' ' If you really mean it ? " said Herrick. •• You know
they — we — they — But you know all. "

" I know quite enough/' said Attwater. " Come up
to the house."

And the captain, from the deck of the FaraUone, saw
the two men pass together under the shadow of the
grove.

—

CHAPTER XI j

DAVID AND GOLIATH I

Huish had bundled himself up from the glare of the
day, his face to the house, his knees retracted; the frail
bones in the thin tropical raiment seemed scarce more
considerable then a fowl's; and Davis, sitting on the
rail, with his arm about a stay, contemplated him with
gloom, wondering what manner of counsel that insig-
nificant figure should contain. For since Herrick had
thrown him off and deserted to the enemy, Huish,
alone of mankind, remained to him to be a helper and
oracle.

He considered their position with a sinking heart
The ship was a stolen ship; the stores, whether from
initial carelessness or ill administration during the voy-
age, were insufficient to carry them to any port except
back to Papeete; and there retribution waited in the
shape of a gendarme, a judge with a queer-shaped hat,
and the horror of distant Noumea. Upon that side there
was no glimmer of hope. Here, at the island, the dragon
was roused ; Attwater with his men and his Winchesters
watched and patrolled the house; let him who dare
approach it. What else was then left but to sit there
inactive, pacing the decks, until the Trinity Hall arrived,
and they were cast into irons, or until the food came to

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DAVID AND GOLIATH

an end, and the pangs of famine succeeded ? For the
Trinity Had Davis was prepared. He would barricade
the house, and die there, defending it, like a rat in a
crevice. But for the other ? The cruise of the FaraBone,
into which he had plunged, only a fortnight before, with
such golden expectations, could this be the nightmare
end of it, — the ship rotting at anchor, the crew stum-
bling and dying in the scuppers ? It seemed as if any
extreme of hazard were to be preferred to so grisly a
certainty; as if it would be better to up-anchor, after all,
put to sea at a venture, and perhaps perish at the hands
of cannibals on one of the more obscure Paumotus. His
eye roved swiftly over sea and sky in quest of any
promise of wind, but the fountains of the Trade were
empty. Where it had run yesterday, and for weeks
before, a roaring blue river charioting clouds, silence
now reigned, and the whole height of the atmosphere
stood balanced. On the endless ribbon of island that
stretched out to either hand of him its array of golden
and green and silvery palms, not the most volatile frond
was to be seen stirring; they drooped to their stable
images in the lagoon like things carved of metal, and
already their long line began to reverberate heat There
was no escape possible that day, none probable on the
morrow. And still the stores were running out.

Then came over Davis, from deep down in the roots
of his being, or at least from far back among his memo-
ries of childhood and innocence, a wave of superstition.
This run of ill-luck was something beyond natural; the
chances of the game were in themselves more various;
it seemed as if the devil must serve the pieces. The
devil ? He heard again the clear note of Attwater's bell

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ringing abroad into the night, and dying away. How;
if God ?

Briskly he averted hit mind. Attwater — that was
the point Attwater had food and a treasure of pearls;
escape made possible in the present, riches in the future.
They must come to grips with Attwater; the man must
die. A smoky heat went over his face as he recalled
the impotent figure he had made last night, and the
contemptuous speeches he must bear in silence. Rage,
shame, and the love of life all pointed the one way ; and
only invention halted. How to reach him ? Had he
strength enough ? Was there any help in that misbe-
gotten packet of bones against the house ?

His eyes dwelled upon him with a strange avidity, as
though he would read into his soul; and presently the
sleeper moved, stirred uneasily, turned suddenly round,
and threw him a blinking look. Davis maintained the
same dark stare, and Huish looked away again and sat
up.

" Lord, I've an 'eadache on me!" said he. " I be-
lieve I was a bit swipey last night W'ere's that cry-
byby,'Errick?"

" Gone/' said the captain.

"Ashore ?" cried Huish. "Oh, I say, I'd V gone, too."

"Would you?" said the captain.

"Yes, I would," replied Huish. "I like Attwater;
'e's all right; we got on like one o'clock when you
were gone. And ain't his sherry in it, rather? It's
like Spiers and Pond's Amontillado! I wish I 'ad a
drain of it now," he sighed.

"Well, you'll never get no more of it, thafs one
thing," said Davis, gravely.

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" 'Ere! wot's wrong with you, Dyvis? Coppers 'ot?
Well, look at met I ain't grumpy," said Huish. " I'm
as plyful as a canyry-bird, I am."

"Yes," said Davis, " you're playful, I own that; and
you were playful last night, I believe, and a damned
fine performance you made of it."

'"Alio!" said Huish. "'Ow's this? Wot per-
formance?"

"Well, I'll tell you," said the captain, getting slowly
off the rail.

And he did, at full length, with every wounding epi-
thet and absurd detail repeated and emphasised ; he had
his own vanity and Huish's upon the grill and roasted
them ; and as he spoke he inflicted and endured agonies
of humiliation. It was a plain man's master-piece of
the sardonic.

"What do you think of it?" said he, when he had
done, and looked down at Huish, flushed and serious,
and yet jeering.

" I'll tell you wot it is," was the reply, "you and me
cut a pretty dicky figure."

"That's so," said Davis; "a pretty measly figure,
by God! And, by God! I want to see that man at my
knees."

" Ah ! " said Huish. " 'Ow to get him there ? "

' ' That's it ! " cried Davis. " How to get hold to him 1
They're four to two, though there's only one man among
them to count, and that's Attwater. Get a bead on
Attwater, and the others would cut and run and sing
out like frightened poultry, and old man Herrick would
come round with his hat for a share of the pearls. No,
sir! It's how to get hold of Attwater! And we daren't

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even go ashore. He would shoot us in the boat like
dogs."

"Are you particular about having him dead or alive?"
asked Huish.

"I want to see him dead/' said the captain.

"Ah, well," said Huish. "Then 1 believe I'll do a
bit of breakfast"

And he turned into the house.

The captain doggedly followed him.

" What's this ? " he asked. " What's your idea,
anyway?"

"Oh, you let me alone, will you?" said Huish,
opening a bottle of champagne. " You'll 'ear my idea
soon enough. Wyte till I pour some cham on my 'ot
coppers." He drank a glass off, and affected to listen.
" 'Ark!" said he, "'ear it fizz. Like 'am fryin', I de-
clare. 'Ave a glass, do, and look sociable."

" No," said the captain, with emphasis. " No, I wii)
not There's business."

" You p'ys your money and you tykes your choice,
my little man, " returned Huish. ' ' Seems rather a shyme
to me to spoil your breakfast for wot's really ancient
'istory."

He finished three parts of a bottle of champagne and
nibbled a corner of biscuit with extreme deliberation,
the captain sitting opposite and champing the bit like
an impatient horse. Then Huish leaned his arms on the
table and looked Davis in the face.

" W'en you're ready," said he.

"Well, now, what's your idea?" said Davis, with a
sigh.

" Fair play 1 " said Huish. " What's yours ? "
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"The trouble is that I've got none," replied Davis;
and wandered for some time in aimless discussion of
the difficulties in their path, and useless explanations of
his own fiasco.

" About done ?" said Huish.

" I'll dry up right here," replied Davis.

"Well, then," said Huish, "you give me your 'and
across the table, and say : ' Gawd strike me dead if I
don't back you up.'"

His voice was hardly raised, yet it thrilled the hearer.
His face seemed the epitome of cunning, and the cap-
tain recoiled from it as from a blow.

"What for?" said he.

"Luck," said Huish. "Substantial guarantee de-
manded."

And he continued to hold out his hand.

"I don't see the good of any such tomfoolery," said
the other.

"I do, though," returned Huish. "Gimme your
'and and say the words, then you'll 'ear my view of it
Don't, and you don't"

The captain went through the required form, breath-
ing short, and gazing on the clerk with anguish. What
to fear he knew not; yet he feared slavishly what was
to fall from these pale lips.

"Now, if you'll excuse me'alfa second," said Huish,
" I '11 go and fetch the byby."

" The baby ? " said Davis. " What's that ? "

"Fragile. With care. This side up," replied the
clerk, with a wink, as he disappeared.

He returned, smiling to himself, and carrying in his
hand a silk handkerchief. The long, stupid wrinkles

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ran up Davis's brow as he saw it What should it con-
tain ? He could think of nothing more recondite than
a revolver.

Huish resumed his seat

" Now," said he, " are you man enough to take charge
of 'Errick and the niggers ? Because I'll take care of
Hattwater."

" How ? " cried Davis, " You can't! "

"Tut, tut," said the clerk. "You gimme time.
Wot's the first point ? The first point is, that we can't
get ashore; and Til make you a present of that for a
'ard one. But 'ow about a flag of truce ? Would that
do the trick, d'ye think, or would Attwater simply
blyze aw'y at us in the bloomin' boat like dawgs?"

"No," said Davis, "I don't believe he would."

"No more do 1," said Huish. "I don't believe he
would, either; and I'm sure I 'ope he won't So then
you can call us ashore. Next point is to get near the
managin' direction. And for that I'm going to 'ave you
write a letter, in w'ich you s'y you're ashymed to meet
his eye, and that the bearer, Mr. J. L. 'Uish, is empow-
ered to represent you; armed with w'ich seemin'ly sim-
ple expedient, Mr. J. L. 'Uish will proceed to business."

He paused, like one who had finished, but still held
Davis with his eye.

" How ? " said Davis. " Why ? "

"Well, you see, you're big," returned Huish; "'e
knows you 'ave a gun in your pocket, and anybody can
see with 'alf an eye that you ain't the man to 'esitate
about usin' it So it's no go with you, and never was;
you're out of the runnin\ Dyvis. But he won't be
afryde of me, I'm such a little un. I'm unarmed — no

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kid about that — and I'll 'old my 'ands up right enough/'
He paused. "If 1 can manage to sneak up nearer to
him as we talk," he resumed, "you look out and back
me up smart If I don't, we go aw'y again, and nothink
to'urt See?"

The captain's face was contorted by the frenzied effort
to comprehend.

"No, I don't see," he cried. "I can't see. What
do you mean ? "

" I mean to do for the Beast! " cried Huish, in a burst
of venomous triumph. " Til bring the 'ulkin' bully to
grass. He's 'ad his larks out of me: I'm goin' to 'ave
my lark out of 'im; and a good lark, too! "

" What is it ?" said the captain, almost in a whisper.

" Sure you want to know ? " asked Huish.

Davis rose and took a turn in the house.

"Yes, I want to know," he said at last, with an
effort.

" W'en your back's at the wall, you do the best you
can, don't you ? " began the clerk. " I s'y that, because
I 'appen to know there's a prejudice against it; it's con-
sidered vulgar, awf'ly vulgar." He unrolled the hand-
kerchief and showed a four-ounce jar. "This 'ere's
vitriol, this is," said he.

The captain stared upon him with a whitening face.

"This is the stuff!" he pursued, holding it up.
"This'U burn to the bone; you'll see it smoke upon 'im
like 'ell fire. One drop upon 'is bloomin' heyesight, and
I'll trouble you for Attwater ! "

"No, no, by God!" exclaimed the captain.

"Now, see 'ere, ducky," said Huish, "this is my
bean-feast, I believe ? I'm goin' up to that man single-

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'anded, I ant *Fs about seven foot high and Tib five
foot one. *E's a rifle in his 'and, f e s on the look-out;
'e wasn't bom yesterday. This is Dyvid and Gofcar, I
tell you. If I 'adastyou to walk up and free the music
I could understand. But I don't I on'y ast you to
stand by and spifflkate the niggers. ItH afl come in
quite natural; youll see, eke. Fust thing you know
youD see him running round and 'owfcng like a good
un "

"Don't!" said Davis. "Don't talk of it!"

"Welt you are a juggins !" exclaimed Huish. "What
did you want ? You wanted to kill him, and tried to
last night You wanted to kill the 'ok lot of them, and
tried to, and 'ere 1 show you 'ow; and because there's
some medicine in a bottle, you kick up this fuss! "

"1 suppose thafs so," said Davis. " It don't seem
someways reasonable, only there it is."

" If s the happlication of science, 1 suppose ?" sneered
Huish.

"1 don't know what it is," cried Davis, pacing the
floor. "It's there; I draw the line at it I can't put
a finger to no such piggishness; if s too damned hate-
ful!"

"And I suppose tfs all your fancy pynted it," said
Huish, " w'en you take a pistol and a bit o' lead, and
copse a man's brains all over him ? No accountin' for
tystes."

"I'm not denying it," said Davis; "it's something
here, inside of me. It's foolishness ; I daresay it's damn
foolishness. I don't argue, I just draw the line. Isn't
there no other way ?"

"Look for yourself," said Huish. "I ain't wedded
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to this, if you think I am. I ain't ambitious. 1 don't
make a point of playin' the lead. 1 offer to, that's all;
and if you can't show me better, by Gawd, I'm goin'
to!"

"Then the risk!" cried Davis.

" If you ast me stryte, I should say it was a case of
seven to one and no tykers," said Huish. " But that's
my lookout, ducky, and I'm gyme. Look at me, Dy vis ;
there ain't any shilly-shally about me. I'm gyme, that's
what I am; gyme all through."

The captain looked at him. Huish sat there, preening
his sinister vanity, glorying in his precedency in evil;
and the villainous courage and readiness of the creature
shone out of him like a candle from a lantern. Dismay
and a kind of respect seized hold on Davis in his own
despite. Until that moment he had seen the clerk
always hanging back, always listless, uninterested, and
openly grumbling at a word of anything to do; and
now, by the touch of an enchanter's wand, he beheld
him sitting girt and resolved, and his face radiant He
had raised the devil, he thought, and asked who was to
control him, and his spirits quailed.

"Look as long as you like," Huish was going on.
" You don't see any green in my eye. 1 ain't afryde of
Attwater, I ain't afryde of you, and I ain't afryde of .
words. You want to kill people, that's wot you want;
but you want to do it in kid gloves, and it can't be done
that w'y. Murder ain't genteel, it ain't easy, it ain't
safe, and it tykes a man to do it 'Ere's the man."

"Huish!" began the captain with energy, and then
stopped, and remained staring at him with corrugated
brows.

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THE EBB TIDE

" Well, hout with it," said Huish. " 'Ave you any-
think else to put up ? Is there any other chanst to try ?"

The captain held his peace.

" There you are, then," said Huish, with a shrug.

Davis fell again to his pacing.

" Oh, you may do sentry-go tin you're blue in the
mug; you won't find anythink else," said Huish.

There was a little silence, — the captain, like a man
launched on a swing, flying dizzily among extremes of
conjecture and refusal.

" But see," he said, suddenly pausing. " Can you ?
Can the thing be done ? It — it can't be easy."

" If I get within twenty foot of 'im if U be done; so
you look out," said Huish, and his tone of certainty was
absolute.

" How can you know that ?" broke from the captain
in a choked cry. " You beast, I believe you've done it
before!"

"Oh, that's private aflyres," returned Huish. "I
ain't a talking man."

A shock of repulsion struck and shook the captain.
A scream rose almost to his lips; had he uttered it, he
might have cast himself at the same moment on the
debile body of Huish, might have picked him up, and
flung him down, and wiped the cabin with him in a
frenzy of cruelty that seemed half moral; but the mo-
ment passed, and the abortive crisis left the man weaker.
The stakes were so high, — the pearls on the one hand,
starvation and shame on the other. Ten years of pearls 1
The imagination of Davis translated them into a new,
glorified existence for himself and his family. The seat
of this new life must be in London, — there were deadly

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reasons against Portland, Maine, — and the pictures that
came to him were of English manners. He saw his
boys marching in the procession of a school, with
gowns on, an usher marshalling them, and reading, as
he walked, in a great book. He was installed in a villa,
semi-detached, the name, "Rosemore," on the gate-
posts. In a chair on the gravel walk he seemed to sit
smoking a cigar, a blue ribbon in his buttonhole, victor
over himself and circumstances and the malignity of
bankers. He saw the parlour with red curtains, and
shells on the mantel-piece; and, with the fine inconsis-
tency of visions, mixed a grog at the mahogany table
ere he turned in. With that the FaraBone gave one of
the aimless and nameless movements which (even in an
anchored ship and even in the most profound calm) re-
mind one of the mobility of fluids; and he was back
again under the cover of the house, the fierce daylight
besieging it all round and glaring in the chinks, and the
clerk, in a rather airy attitude, awaiting his decision.

He began to walk again. He aspired after the reali-
sation of these dreams, like a horse nickering for water;
the lust of them burned in his inside; and the only ob-
stacle was Attwater, who had insulted him from the
first. He gave Herrick a full share of the pearls; he in-
sisted on it Huish opposed him, and he trod the op-
position down, and praised himself exceedingly. He
was not going to use vitriol himself. Was he Huish's
keeper? It was a pity he had asked, but after all —
He saw the boys again in the school procession, with
the gowns he had thought to be so * ' tony " long since
— And at the same time the incomparable shame of
the last evening blazed up in his mind.

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" Have It your own way/' he said hoarsely.

"Oh, I knew you would walk up/' said Huish.
"Now for the letter. There's paper, pens, and ink. Sit
down, and I'll dictyte."

The captain took a seat and the pen, looked awhile
helplessly at the paper, then at Huish. The swing had
gone the other way; there was a blur upon his eyes.
" It's a dreadful business," he said, with a strong twitch
of his shoulders.

" It's rather a start, no doubt," said Huish. "Tyke
a dip of ink. That's it WiUiam John Hattwater, Esq. ,
Sir:" he dictated.

" How do you know his name is William John ? "
asked Davis.

"Saw it on a packing-case," said Huish. "Got
that?"

"No," said Davis. "But there's another thing.
What are we to write ?"

"Oh,mygolly!" cried the exasperated Huish. "Wot
kind of man do you call yourself? I'm goin' to tell you
wot to write — that's my pitch — if you'll just be so
bloomin' condescendin' as to write it down I WiUiam
John Hattwater, Esq., Sir:" he reiterated. And the
captain at last beginning half mechanically to move his
pen, the dictation proceeded: "// is with fcelin's of
shyme and 'artfelt contrition that I approach you after
the yumtiiatin' events of last night Our Mr. 'Errick
has left the ship, and will have doubtless communicated
to you the nature of our 'opes. Needless to s'y, these
are no longer possible. Fate 'as declyred against us,
and we bow the 'ead. WeB awyre as I am of tbe just
suspicions with w % ich I am regarded, I do not venture

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to solicit the fyoour of an interview for myself; but in
order to put an end to a situytion w'icb must be equally
pyneful to all, I 'ave deputed my friend and partner,
Mr. J. L. Huisb, to I'y before you my proposals, and
w'icb by tbeir moderytion wiU, I trust, be found to
merit your attention. Mr. J. L. Huisb is entirely un-
armed, I swear to Gawd/ and will 'old 'is 'ands over
'is 'eadfrom tbe moment be begins to approach you. I
am yourfytbful servant, John Dyvis. ' '

Huish read the letter with the innocent joy of ama-
teurs, chuckled gustfully to himself, and reopened it
more than once after it was folded, to repeat the plea-
sure, — Davis meanwhile sitting inert and heavily
frowning.

Of a sudden he rose; he seemed all abroad. "No! "
he cried. "No! It can't be! It's too much! It's
damnation ! God would never forgive it! "

"Well, and 'oo wants him to ? " returned Huish, shrill
with fury. " You were damned years ago for the Sea
Rynger, and said so yourself. Well, then, be damned
for something else, and 'old your tongue."

The captain looked at him mistily. ' ' No, " he pleaded,
"no, old man, don't do it"

"'Ere now," said Huish, "Til give you my ultimy-
tum. Go or st'y w'ere you are; I don't mind; I'm goin'
to see that man and chuck this vitriol in his eyes. If
you st'y I'll go alone; the niggers will likely knock me
on the 'ead, and a fat lot you'll be the better! But
there's one thing sure: I'll 'ear no more of your moon-
in', mullygrubbin' rot, and tyke it stryte."

The captain took it with a blink and a gulp. Mem-
ory, with phantom voices, repeated in his ears some-

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thing similar, something he had once said to Herrick,
years ago, it seemed.

"Now, gimme over your pistol," said Huish. "I
'ave to see all clear. Six shots, and mind you don't
wyste them."

The captain, like a man in a nightmare, laid down
his revolver on the table, and Huish wiped the cart-
ridges and oiled the works.

It was close on noon: there was no breath of wind,
and the heat was scarce bearable when the two men
came on deck, had the boat manned, and passed down,
one after another, into the stern-sheets. A white shirt
at the end of an oar served as a flag of truce; and the
men, by direction, and to give it the better chance to be
observed, pulled with extreme slowness. The isle
shook before them like a place incandescent; on the face
of the lagoon blinding copper suns, no bigger than six-
pences, danced and stabbed them in the eyeball. There
went up from sand and sea, and even from the boat, a
glare of scathing brightness; and as they could only
peer abroad from between closed lashes, the excess of
light seemed to be changed into a sinister darkness,
comparable to that of a thunder-cloud before it bursts.

The captain had come upon this errand for any one
of a dozen reasons, the last of which was desire for its
success. Superstition rules all men; semi-ignorant and
gross natures, like that of Davis, it rules utterly. For
murder he had been prepared; but this horror of the
medicine in the bottle went beyond him, and he seemed
to himself to be parting the last strands that united him
to God. The boat carried him on to reprobation, to
damnation ; and he suffered himself to be carried, pas-

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sively consenting, silently bidding farewell to his better
self and his hopes.

Huish sat by his side in towering spirits that were not
wholly genuine. Perhaps as brave a man as ever lived,
brave as a weasel, he must still reassure himself with
the tones of his own voice; he must play his part to
exaggeration, he must out-Herod Herod, insult all that
was respectable, and brave all that was formidable, in a
kind of desperate wager with himself. So the young
soldier may jest as he goes into the battle; so perhaps,
of old, the highwaymen blasphemed on the scaffold.

"Golly, but it's 'ot! " said he. " Cruel 'ot, I call it
Nice d'y to get your gruel in! I s'y, you know, it
must feel awf ly peculiar to get bowled over on a d'y
like this. I'd rather have it on a cowld and frusty morn-
ing, wouldn't you ? [Singing.] 'Ere we go round the
mulberry bush on a cowld and frosty mornin'. [Spo-
ken.] Give you my word, I 'aven't thought o' that in
ten years; used to sing it at a hinfant school in 'Ack-
ney — 'Ackney Wick it was. [Singing.] Tbis is tbe
way the tyler does, tbe tyler does. [Spoken.] Bloomin'
'umbug. 'Ow are you oflf now, for the notion of a
future styte ? Do you cotton to the tea-fight view, or
the old red-'ot Boguey business ? "

• 'Oh, dry up," said the captain.

" No, but I want to know, " said Huish. " It's within
the sp'ere of practical politics for you and me, my boy ;
we may both be bowled over, one up, t'other down,
within the next ten minutes. It would be rather a lark,
now, if you only skipped across, came up smilin' t'other
side, and a hangel met you with a B. and S. under his
wing. 'UIlo, you'd s'y: 'cornel I tyke this kind/ 9

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The captain groaned. While Huish was thus airing
and exercising his bravado* the man at his side was
actually engaged in prayer. Prayer, what for? God
knows. But out of his inconsistent, illogical, agitated
spirit, a stream of supplication was poured forth, inar-
ticulate as himself, earnest as death and judgment

" Thou Gawd seest mel " continued Huish. " I re-
member I had that written in my Bible. 1 remember
the Bible, too, all about Abinadab and parties. Well,
Gawd! " said he, apostrophising the meridian, "you're
goin' to see a rum start presently, I promise you that ! "

The captain bounded.

" I'll have no blasphemy 1 " he cried, " no blasphemy
in my boat."

"All right, cap," said Huish. "Anything to oblige.
Any other topic you would like to suggest, the ryne-
gyge, the lightnin' rod, Shykespeare, or the musical
glasses ? ' Ere's conversytion on tap. Put a penny in
the slot, and — 'ullo! 'ere they are!" he cried. "Now
or never ! Is 'e goin' to shoot ? "

And the little man straightened himself into an alert
and dashing attitude, and looked steadily at the enemy.

But the captain rose half up in the boat, with eyes
protruding.

"What's that? "he cried.

" Wot's wot ? " said Huish.

"Those blamed things," said the captain.

And indeed it was something strange. Herrick and
Attwater, both armed with Winchesters, had appeared
out of the grove behind the figure-head ; and to either
hand of them, the sun glistened upon two metallic ob-
jects, locomotory like men, and occupying in the econ-

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omy of these creatures the places of heads, — only the
heads were faceless. To Davis, hit between wind and
water, his mythology appeared to have come alive, and
Tophet to be vomiting demons. But Huish was not
mystified a moment.

"Divers' 'elmets, you ninny! Can't you see?" he
said.

1 ' So they are, " said Davis, with a gasp. ' ' And why ?
Oh, I see, it's for armour."

"Wot did 1 tell you?" said Huish. "Dyvid and
Goliar all the w'y and back."

The two natives (for they it was that were equipped
in this unusual panoply of war) spread out to right and
left, and at last lay down in the shade, on the extreme
flank of the position. Even now that the mystery was
explained, Davis was hatefully preoccupied, stared at
the flame on their crests, and forgot, and then remem-*
bered with a smile, the explanation.

Attwater withdrew again into the grove, and Herrick,
with his gun under his arm, came down the pier alone.
About half way down he halted and hailed the boat

" What do you want ? " he cried.

" I'll tell that to Mr. Attwater," replied Huish, stepping
briskly on the ladder. "1 don't tell it to you, because
you plyed the trucklin' sneak. Here's a letter for him ;
tyke it, and give it, and be 'anged to you! "

"Davis, is this all right?" said Herrick.

Davis raised his chin, glanced swiftly at Herrick and
away again, and held his peace. The glance was charged
with some deep emotion, but whether of hatred or fear,
it was beyond Herrick to divine.

" Well," he said, " I'll give the letter." He drew a
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score with his foot on the boards of the gangway. " Till
I bring the answer, don't move a step past this."

And he returned to where Attwater leaned against a
tree, and gave him the letter. Attwater glanced it
through.

"What does that mean ?" he asked, passing it to
Herrick. "Treachery?"

" Oh, I suppose so," said Herrick.

" Well, tell him to come on," said Attwater. "One
isn't a fatalist for nothing. Tell him to come on and
to look out."

Herrick returned to the figure-head. Half way down
the pier the clerk was waiting, with Davis by his side.

1 ' You are to come along, Huish, " said Herrick. ' * He
bids you look out, no tricks."

Huish walked briskly up the pier, and paused face to
face with the young man.

"Were is 'e ? " said he, and to Herrick's surprise, the
low-bred, insignificant face before him flushed suddenly
crimson and went white again.

"Right forward," said Herrick, pointing. "Now,
your hands above your head."

The clerk turned away from him and toward thefig-
ure-head, as though he were about to address to it his
devotions — he was seen to heave a deep breath — and
raised his arms. In common with many men of his
unhappy physical endowments, Huish's hands were
disproportionately long and broad, and the palms in
particular enormous ; a four-ounce jar was nothing in
that capacious fist. The next moment he was plod-
ding steadily forward on his mission.

Herrick at first followed. Then a noise in his rear
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startled him, and he turned about, to find Davis already
advanced as far as the figure-head. He came, crouch-
ing and open-mouthed, as the mesmerised may follow
the mesmeriser; all human considerations, and even the
care of his own life, swallowed up in one abominable
and burning curiosity.

"Halt!" cried Herrick, covering him with his rifle.
* ' Davis, what are you doing, man ? You are not to come. "

Davis instinctively paused, and regarded him with a
dreadful vacancy of eye.

" Put your back to that figure-head, do you hear me ?
and stand fast! " said Herrick.

The captain fetched a breath, stepped back against
the figure-head, and instantly redirected his glances
after Huish.

There was a hollow place of the sand in that part,
and as it were a glade among the cocoa-palms, in which
the direct noonday sun blazed intolerably. At the far
end, in the shadow, the tall figure of Attwater was to
be seen leaning on a tree. Toward him, with his hands
over his head, and his steps smothered in the sand, the
clerk painfully waded. The surrounding glare threw
out and exaggerated the man's smallness; it seemed no
less perilous an enterprise, this that he was gone upon,
than for a whelp to besiege a citadel.

" There, Mr. Whish. That will do," cried Attwater.
" From that distance, and keeping your hands up like a
good boy, you can very well put me in possession of
the skipper's views."

The interval betwixt them was perhaps forty feet; and
Huish measured it with his eye, and breathed a curse.
He was already distressed with labouring in the loose

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sand, and his arms ached bitterly from their unnatural
position. In the palm of his right hand, the jar was
ready; and his heart thrilled, and his voice choked, as
he began to speak.

"Mr. Hattwater/'said he, "1 don't know if ever you
- ada mother "

"I can set your mind at rest: I had," returned Att-
water. " And henceforth, if I might venture to suggest
it, her name need not recur in our communications. I
should perhaps tell you that I am not amenable to the
pathetic."

" I am sorry, sir, if I 'ave seemed to tresparse on your
private feelin's," said the clerk, cringing and stealing a
step. "At least, sir, you will never pe'suade me that
you are not a perfec' gentleman. I know a gentleman
when I see him; and as such, I 'ave no 'esitation in
throwin' myself on your merciful consideration. It is
'ard lines, no doubt; it's 'ard lines to have to hown your-
self beat; it's 'ard lines to 'ave to come and beg to you
for charity."

"When, if things had only gone right, the whole place
was as good as your own ? " suggested Attwater. "I
can understand the feeling."

" You are judging me, Mr. Attwater," said the clerk,
"and Gawd knows how unjustly! ' Tbou Gawd
seest me/ was the tex' I 'ad in my Bible, w'ich my fa-
ther wrote it in with 'is own 'and upon the fly leaft."

"I am sorry I have to beg your pardon once more,"
said Attwater; "but do you know, you seem to me to
be a trifle nearer, which is entirely outside of our bar-
gain. And I would venture to suggest that you take
one — two — three — steps back; and stay there."

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The devil, at this staggering disappointment, looked
out of Huish's face, and Attwater was swift to suspect
He frowned, he stared on the little man, and considered.
Why should he be creeping nearer ? The next moment
his gun was at his shoulder.

" Kindly oblige me by opening your hands. Open
your hands wide — let me see the fingers spread, you
dog — throw down that thing you're holding!" he
roared, his rage and certitude increasing together.

And then, at almost the same moment, the indomi-
table Huish decided to throw, and Attwater pulled the
trigger. There was scarce the difference of a second
between the two resolves, but it was in favour of
the man with the rifle; and the jar had not yet left
the clerk's hand, before the ball shattered both. For
the twinkling of an eye, the wretch was in hell's ago-
nies, bathed in liquid flames, a screaming bedlamite;
and then a second and more merciful bullet stretched
him dead.

The whole thing was come and gone in a breath.
Before Herrick could turn about, before Davis could
complete his cry of horror, the clerk lay in the sand,
sprawling and convulsed.

Attwater ran to the body ; he stooped and viewed it;
he put his finger in the vitriol, and his face whitened
and hardened with anger.

Davis had not yet moved; he stood astonished, with
his back to the figure-head, his hands clutching it be-
hind him, his body inclined forward from the waist Att-
water turned deliberately and covered him with his rifle.

"Davis," he cried, in a voice like a trumpet, "I give
you sixty seconds to make your peace with God"

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Davis looked, and his mind awoke. He did not
dream of self-defence, he did not reach for his pistol.
He drew himself up instead to face death, with a quiv-
ering nostril

" 1 guess I'll not trouble the Old Man," he said. "Con-
sidering the job I was on, I guess it's better business to
just shut my face."

Attwater fired; there came a spasmodic movement
of the victim, and immediately above the middle of his
forehead, a black hole marred the whiteness of the fig-
ure-head. A dreadful pause ; then again the report, and
the solid sound and jar of the bullet in the wood; and
this time the captain had felt the wind of it along his
cheek. A third shot, and he was bleeding from one
ear; and along the levelled rifle, Attwater smiled like
a red Indian.

The cruel game of which he was the puppet was
now clear to Davis; three times he had drunk of death,
and he must look to drink of it seven times more be-
fore he was despatched. He held up his hand.

"Steady!" he cried, "I'll take your sixty seconds."

' ' Good ! " said Attwater.

The captain shut his eyes tight, like a child; he held
his hands up at last with a tragic and ridiculous gesture.

" My God, for Christ's sake, look after my two kids,"
he said; and then after a pause and a falter, "for
Christ's sake. Amen."

And he opened his eyes and looked down the rifle
with a quivering mouth.

"But don't keep fooling me long!" he pleaded.

"That all your prayer?" asked Attwater, with a
singular ring in his voice.

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DAVID AND GOLIATH

"Guess so/' said Davis.

" So ? " said Attwater, resting the butt of his rifle <m
the ground, "is that done ? Is your peace made with
Heaven? Because it is with me. Go, and sin no
more, sinful father. And remember that whatever you
do to others, God shall visit it again a thousand fold
upon your innocents. "

The wretched Davis came staggering forward from
his place against the figure-head, fell upon his knees,
and waved his hands and fainted.

When he came to himself again, his head was on
Attwater's arm, and close by stood one of the men in
divers' helmets, holding a bucket of water, from which
his late executioner now laved his face. The memory
of that dreadful passage returned upon him in a clap;
again he saw Huish lying dead, again he seemed to
himself to totter on the brink of an unplumbed eter-
nity. With trembling hands he seized hold of the man
whom he had come to slay; and his voice broke from
him like that of a child among the nightmares of fever:
"Oh! isn't there no mercy? Oh! what must I do to
be saved?"

"Ah ! " thought Attwater, " here is the true penitent "

395

CHAPTER XII

A TAIL-PIECE

On a very bright, hot, lusty, strongly blowing noon, a
fortnight after the events recorded, and a month since
the curtain rose upon this episode, a man might have
been spied praying on the sand by the lagoon beach. A
point of palm-trees isolated him from the settlement;
and from the place where he knelt, the only work of
man's hand that interrupted the expanse was the
schooner FaraBone, her berth quite changed, and rock-
ing at anchor some two miles to windward in the
midst of the lagoon. The noise of the Trade ran very
boisterous in all parts of the island; the nearer palm-
trees crashed and whistled in the gusts, those farther
off contributed a humming bass, like the roar of cities;
and yet, to any man less absorbed, there must have
risen at times over this turmoil of the winds the sharper
note of the human voice from the settlement. There
all was activity. Attwater, stripped to his trousers and
lending a strong hand of help, was directing and en-
couraging five Kanakas; from his lively voice, and their
more lively efforts, it was to be gathered that some
sudden and joyful emergency had set them in this bustle ;
and the " Union Jack " floated once more on its staff.
But the suppliant on the beach, unconscious of their

396

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A TAIL-PIECE

voices, prayed on with instancy and fervour, and the
sound of his voice rose and fell again, and his counte-
nance brightened and was deformed with changing
moods of piety and terror.

Before his closed eyes, the skiff had been for some
time tacking towards the distant and deserted Fatal-
lone; and presently the figure of Herrick might have
been observed to board her, to pass for a while into the
house, thence forward to the forecastle, and at last to
plunge into the main hatch. In all these quarters, his
visit was followed by a coil of smoke; and he had
scarce entered his boat again and shoved off, before
flames broke forth upon the schooner. They burned
gayly; kerosene had not been spared, and the bellows
of the Trade incited the conflagration. About half-way
on the return voyage, when Herrick looked back, he
beheld the FaraBone wrapped to the topmasts in leap-
ing arms of fire, and the voluminous smoke pursuing
him along the face of the lagoon. In one hour's time,
he computed, the waters would have closed over the
stolen ship. It so chanced that, as his boat flew before
the wind with much vivacity, and his eyes were con-
tinually busy in the wake, measuring the progress of
the flames, he found himself embayed to the northward
of the point of palms, and here became aware at the
same time of the figure of Davis immersed in his
devotion. An exclamation, part of annoyance, part of
amusement, broke from him, and he touched the helm
and ran the prow upon the beach not twenty feet
from the unconscious devotee. Taking the painter in
his hand, he landed, drew near, and stood over him.
And still the voluble and incoherent stream of prayer

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THB EBB TIDE

continued unabated. It was not possible for him to
overhear the suppliant's petitions, which he listened to
some while in a very mingled mood of humour and pity,
and it was only when his own name began to occur
and to be conjoined with epithets, that he at last laid
his hand on the captain's shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt the exercise," said he, "but I
want you to look at the Farallone."

The captain scrambled to his feet, and stood gasping
and staring. "Mr. Herrick, don't startle a man like
that! " he said. " I don't seem someways rightly my-
self since — " he broke off. "What did you say, any-
way? Oh, the Farattone," and he looked languidly
out

" Yes," said Herrick, " there she burns; and you may
guess from that what the news is."

"The Trinity HaU, I guess," said the captain.

"The same," said Herrick, "sighted half an hour
ago, and coming up hand over fist."

"Well, it don't amount to a hill of beans," said the
captain, with a sigh.

"Oh, come, that's rank ingratitude!" cried Herrick.

"Well," replied the captain, meditatively, "you
mayn't just see the way that I view it in, but I'd 'most
rather stay here upon this island. I found peace here,
peace in believing. Yes, I guess this island is about
good enough for John Davis."

"I never heard such nonsense!" cried Herrick.
"What! with all turning out in your favour the way
it does, — the FaraUone wiped out, the crew disposed
of, a sure thing for your wife and family, and you your-
self Attwater's spoiled darling and pet penitent! "

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A TAIL-PIECE

•ii

'Now, Mr. Herrick, don't say that," said the cap-
tain, gently, "when you know he don't make no differ-
ence between us. But, oh, why not be one of us?
Why not come to Jesus right away, and let's meet in
yon beautiful land ? That's just the one thing wanted;
just say 'Lord, 1 believe, help Thou mine unbelief!'
and He'll fold you in His arms. You see, I know; !
been a sinner myself."

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UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
BERKELEY

Return to desk from which borrowed.
This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.

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VRRSITY OP CALIFORNIA LIBRARY

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