POISON ISLAND. 

By ARTHUR THOMAS QUILLER-COUCH (Q). 

CONTENTS. 

Chapter. 

I. HOW I FIRST MET WITH CAPTAIN COFFIN. 

II. I AM ENTERED AT COPENHAGEN ACADEMY. 

III. A STREET FIGHT, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

IV. CAPTAIN COFFIN STUDIES NAVIGATION. 

V. THE WHALEBOAT. 

VI. MY FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE CHART. 

VII. ENTER THE RETURNED PRISONER. 

VIII. THE HUNTED AND THE HUNTER. 

IX. CHAOS IN THE CAPTAINS LODGINGS. 

X. NEWS. 

XI. THE CRIME IN THE SUMMER-HOUSE. 

XII. THE BLOODSTAIN ON THE STILE. 

XIII. CLUES IN A TANGLE. 

XIV. HOW I BROKE OUT THE RED ENSIGN. 

XV. CAPTAIN BRANSCOME'S CONFESSION--THE MAN IN THE LANE. 

XVI. CAPTAIN BRANSCOME'S CONFESSION--THE FLAG AND THE CASHBOX. 

XVII. THE CHART OF MORTALLONE. 

XVIII. THE CONTENTS OF THE CORNER CUPBOARD. 

XIX. CAPTAIN COFFIN'S LOG. 

XX. CAPTAIN COFFIN'S LOG (CONTINUED). 

XXI. IN WHICH PLINNY SURPRISES EVERYONE. 

XXII. A STRANGE MAN IN THE GARDEN. 

XXIII. HOW WE SAILED TO THE ISLAND. 

XXIV. WE ANCHOR OFF THE ISLAND. 

XXV. I TAKE FRENCH LEAVE ASHORE. 

XXVI. THE WOMEN IN THE GRAVEYARD. 

XXVII. THE MAN IN BLACK. 

XXVIII. THE MASTER OF THE ISLAND. 

XXIX. A BOAT ON THE BEACH. 

XXX. THE SCREAM ON THE CLIFF. 

XXXI. AARON GLASS. 

XXXII. WE COME TO DR. BEAUREGARD'S HOUSE. 

XXXIII. WE FIND THE TREASURE. 

XXXIV. DOCTOR BEAUREGARD. 

CHAPTER I. 

HOW I FIRST MET WITH CAPTAIN COFFIN. 

It was in the dusk of a July evening of the year 1813 (July 27, to beprecise) that on my way back from the mail-coach office, Falmouth, toMr. Stimcoe's Academy for the Sons of Gentlemen, No. 7, DelamereTerrace, I first met Captain Coffin as he came, drunk and cursing, upthe Market Strand, with a rabble of children at his heels. I havereason to remember the date and hour of this encounter, not only forits remarkable consequences, but because it befell on the very dayand within an hour or two of my matriculation at Stimcoe's. That afternoon I had arrived at Falmouth by Royal Mail, in charge ofMiss Plinlimmon, my father's housekeeper; and now but ten minutes agoI had seen off that excellent lady and waved farewell to her--notwithout a sinking of the heart--on her return journey to MindenCottage, which was my home. 

My name is Harry Brooks, and my age on this remembered evening wasfourteen and something over. My father, Major James Brooks, late ofthe 4th (King's Own) Regiment, had married twice, and at the time ofhis retirement from active service was for the second time a widower. Blindness--contracted by exposure and long marches over the snows ofGalicia--had put an end to a career by no means undistinguished. In his last fight, at Corunna, he had not only earned a mention indespatches from his brigadier-general, Lord William Bentinck, but byhis alertness in handling his half-regiment at a critical moment, andrefusing its right to an outflanking line of French, had beenprivileged to win almost the last word of praise uttered by hisidolized commander. My father heard, and faced about, but his eyeswere already failing him; they missed the friendly smile with whichSir John Moore turned, and cantered off along the brigade, toencourage the 50th and 42nd regiments, and to receive, a few minuteslater, the fatal cannon-shot. 

Every one has heard what miseries the returning transports endured inthe bitter gale of January, 1809. The _Londonderry_, in which myfather sailed, did indeed escape wreck, but at the cost of a week'sbeating about the mouth of the Channel. He was, by rights, aninvalid, having taken a wound in the kneecap from a spent bullet, oneof the last fired in the battle; but in the common peril he bore ahand with the best. For three days and two nights he never shiftedhis clothing, which the gale alternately soaked and froze. It wasfrozen stiff as a board when the _Londonderry_ made the entrance ofPlymouth Sound; and he was borne ashore in a rheumatic fever. From this, and from his wound, the doctors restored him at length, but meanwhile his eyesight had perished. 

His misfortunes did not end here. My step-sister Isabel--a beautifulgirl of seventeen, the only child of his first marriage--had met himat Plymouth, nursed him to convalescence, and brought him home toMinden Cottage, to the garden which henceforward he tilled, but sawonly through memory. Since then she had married a young officer inthe 52nd Regiment, a Lieutenant Archibald Plinlimmon; but, herhusband having to depart at once for the Peninsula, she had remainedwith her father and tended him as before, until death took her--as ithad taken her mother--in childbirth. The babe did not survive her;and, to complete the sad story, her husband fell a few weeks laterbefore Badajoz, while assaulting the Picurina Gate with fifty axemenof the Light Division. 

Beneath these blows of fate my father did indeed bow his head, yetbravely. From the day Isabel died his shoulders took a sensiblestoop; but this was the sole evidence of the mortal wound he carried, unless you count that from the same day he put aside his "Aeneid, "and taught me no more from it, but spent his hours for the most partin meditation, often with a Bible open on his knee--although his eyescould not read it. Sally, our cook, told me one day that when thefoolish midwife came and laid the child in his arms, not telling himthat it was dead, he felt it over and broke forth in a terrible cry--his first and last protest. 

In me--the only child of his second marriage, as Isabel had been theonly child of his first--he appeared to have lost, and of a sudden, all interest. While Isabel lived there had been reason for this, orexcuse at least, for he had loved her mother passionately, whereasfrom mine he had separated within a day or two after marriage, havingmarried her only because he was obliged--or conceived himselfobliged--by honour. Into this story I shall not go. It was a sadone, and, strange to say, sadly creditable to both. I do notremember my mother. She died, having taken some pains to hide evenmy existence from her husband, who, nevertheless, conscientiouslytook up the burden. A man more strongly conscientious never lived;and his sudden neglect of me had nothing to do with caprice, butcame--as I am now assured--of some lesion of memory under the shockof my sister's death. As an unregenerate youngster I thought littleof it at the time, beyond rejoicing to be free of my daily lesson inVirgil. 

I can see my father now, seated within the summer-house by thefilbert-tree at the end of the orchard--his favourite haunt--orstanding in the doorway and drawing himself painfully erect, a giantof a man, to inhale the scent of his flowers or listen to his bees, or the voice of the stream which bounded our small domain. I see himframed there, his head almost touching the lintel, his hands grippingthe posts like a blind Samson's, all too strong for the flimsytrelliswork. He wore a brown holland suit in summer, in colderweather a fustian one of like colour, and at first glance you mightmistake him for a Quaker. His snow-white hair was gathered closebeside the temples, back from a face of ineffable simplicity andgoodness--the face of a man at peace with God and all the world, yetmarked with scars--scars of bygone passions, cross-hatched and almosteffaced by deeper scars of calamity. As Miss Plinlimmon wrote in heralbum--

 "Few men so deep as Major Brooks Have drained affliction's cup. Alas! if one may trust his looks, I fear he's breaking up!"

This Miss Plinlimmon, a maiden aunt of the young officer who had beenslain at Badajoz, kept house for us after my sister's death. She wasa lady of good Welsh family, who after many years of genteel povertyhad come into a legacy of seven thousand pounds from an East Indianuncle; and my father--a simple liver, content with his half-pay--hadmuch ado in his blindness to keep watch and war upon the luxuries sheuntiringly strove to smuggle upon him. For the rest, Miss Plinlimmonwore corkscrew curls, talked sentimentally, worshipped the manly form(in the abstract) with the manly virtues, and possessed (quiteunknown to herself) the heart of a lion. 

Upon this unsuspected courage, and upon the strength of her affectionfor me, she had drawn on the day when she stood up to my father--ofwhom, by the way, she was desperately afraid--and told him that hisneglect of me was a sin and a shame and a scandal. "And a goodeducation, " she wound up feebly, "would render Harry so much more ofa companion to you. "

My father rubbed his head vaguely. "Yes, yes, you are right. I havebeen neglecting the boy. But pray end as honestly as you began, anddo not pretend to be consulting my future when you are reallypleading for his. To begin with, I don't want a companion; next, Ishould not immediately make a companion of Harry by sending him awayto school; and, lastly, you know as well as I, that long before hefinished his schooling I should be in my grave. "

"Well, then, consider what a classical education would do for Harry!I feel sure that had I--pardon the supposition--been born a man, andmade conversant with the best thoughts of the ancients--Socrates, forexample--"

"What about him?" my father demanded. 

"So wise, as I have always been given to understand, yet in his ownage misunderstood, by his wife especially! And, to crown all, unlessI err, drowned in a butt of hemlock!"

"Dear madam, pardon me; but how many of these accidents to Socratesare you ascribing to his classical education?"

"But it comes out in so many ways, " Miss Plinlimmon persisted; "andit does make such a difference! There's a _je ne sais quoi_. You can tell it even in the way they handle a knife and fork!"

That evening, after supper, Miss Plinlimmon declined her customarygame of cards with me, on the pretence that she felt tired, and satfor a long while fumbling with a newspaper, which I recognized for aweek-old copy of the "Falmouth Packet. " At length she rose abruptly, and, crossing over to the table where I sat playing dominoes (righthand against left), thrust the paper before me, and pointed with atrembling finger. 

"There, Harry! What would you say to that?"

I brushed my dominoes aside, and read--

"The Reverend Philip Stimcoe, B. A. , (Oxon. ), of Copenhagen Academy, 7. Delamere Terrace, begs to inform the Nobility, Clergy, and Gentryof Falmouth and the neighbourhood that he has Vacancies for a limitednumber of Pupils of good Social Standing. Education classical, onthe lines of the best Public Schools, combined with Home Comfortsunder the personal supervision of Mrs. Stimcoe (niece of the lateHon. Sir Alexander O'Brien, R. N. , Admiral of the White, and K. C. B. ). Backward and delicate boys a speciality. Separate beds. Commodiousplayground in a climate unrivalled for pulmonary ailments. Greenwichtime kept. "

I did not criticise the advertisement. It sufficed me to read myrelease in it; and in the same instant I knew how lonely the last fewmonths had been, and felt myself an ingrate. I that had longedunspeakably, if but half consciously, for the world beyond MindenCottage--a world in which I could play the man--welcomed my libertyby laying my head on my arms and breaking into unmanly sobs. 

I will pass over a blissful week of preparation, including a journeyby van to Torpoint and by ferry across to Plymouth, where MissPlinlimmon bought me boots, shirts, collars, under-garments, avalise, a low-crowned beaver hat for Sunday wear, and for week-days acap shaped like a concertina; where I was measured for two suitsafter a pattern marked "Boy's Clarence, Gentlemanly, " and where Iexpended two-and-sixpence of my pocket-money on a piraticaljack-knife and a book of patriotic songs--two articles indispensable, it seemed to me, to full-blooded manhood; and I will come to the daywhen the Royal Mail pulled up before Minden Cottage with a merryclash of bits and swingle-bars, and, the scarlet-coated guard havingreceived my box from Sally the cook, and hoisted it aboard in ajiffy, Miss Plinlimmon and I climbed up to a seat behind thecoachman. My father stood at the door, and shook hands with me atparting. 

"Good luck, lad, " said he; "and remember our motto: _Nil nisi recte!_Good luck have thou with thine honour. And, by the way, here's halfa sovereign for you. "

"Cl'k!" from the coachman, shortening up his enormous bunch of reins;_ta-ra-ra!_ from the guard's horn close behind my ear; and we wereoff!

Oh, believe me, there never was such a ride! As we swept by thesecond mile stone I stole a look at Miss Plinlimmon. She sat in anecstasy, with closed eyes. She was, as she put it, indulging inmental composition. 

 Verses composed while Riding by the Royal Mail. 

 "I've sailed at eve o'er Plymouth Sound (For me it was a rare excursion) Oblivious of the risk of being drown'd, Or even of a more temporary immersion. 

 "I dream'd myself the Lady of the Lake, Or an Oriental one (within limits) on the Bosphorus; We left a trail of glory in our wake, Which the intelligent boatman ascribed to phosphorus. 

 "Yet agreeable as I found it o'er the ocean To glide within my bounding shallop, I incline to think that for the poetry of motion One may even more confidently recommend the Tantivy Gallop. "

CHAPTER II. 

I AM ENTERED AT COPENHAGEN ACADEMY. 

Agreeable, too, as I found it to be whirled between the hedgerowsbehind five splendid horses; to catch the ostlers run out with therelays; to receive blue glimpses of the Channel to southward; to diveacross dingles and past farm-gates under which the cocks and hensflattened themselves in their haste to give us room; to gaze backover the luggage and along the road, and assure myself that the rivalcoach (the Self-Defence) was not overtaking us--yet Falmouth, whenwe reached it, was best of all; Falmouth, with its narrow streets andcrowd of sailors, postmen, 'longshoremen, porters with wheelbarrows, and passengers hurrying to and from the packets, its smells of pitchand oakum and canvas, its shops full of seamen's outfits andinstruments and marine curiosities, its upper windows where parrotsscreamed in cages, its alleys and quay-doors giving peeps of thesplendid harbour, thronged--to quote Miss Plinlimmon again--"withvarieties of gallant craft, between which the trained nautical eyemay perchance distinguish, but mine doesn't. "

The residential part of Falmouth rises in neat terraces above thewaterside, and of these Delamere Terrace was by no means the leastrespectable. The brass doorplate of No. 7--"Copenhagen Academy forthe Sons of Gentlemen. Principal, the Rev. Philip Stimcoe, B. A. (Oxon. )"--shone immaculate; and its window-blinds did Mrs. Stimcoecredit, as Miss Plinlimmon remarked before ringing the bell. 

Mrs. Stimcoe herself opened the door to us, in a full lace cap and amaroon-coloured gown of state. She was a gaunt, hard-eyed woman, tall as a grenadier, remarkable for a long upper lip decorated withtwo moles. She excused her condescension on the ground that thebutler was out, taking the pupils for a walk; and conducted us to theparlour, where Mr. Stimcoe sat in an atmosphere which smelt faintlyof sherry. 

Mr. Stimcoe rose and greeted us with a shaky hand. He was a thin, spectacled man, with a pendulous nose and cheeks disfigured by apurplish cutaneous disorder (which his wife, later on, attributed tohis having slept between damp sheets while the honoured guest of anobleman, whose name I forget). He wore a seedy clerical suit. 

While shaking hands he observed that I was taller than he hadexpected; and this, absurdly enough, is all I remember of theinterview, except that the room had two empty bookcases, one oneither side of the chimney-breast; that the fading of the wallpaperabove the mantelpiece had left a patch recording where a clock hadlately stood (I conjectured that it must be at Greenwich, undergoingrepairs); that Mrs. Stimcoe produced a decanter of sherry--a winewhich Miss Plinlimmon abominated--and poured her out a glassful, withthe remark that it had been twice round the world; that MissPlinlimmon supposed vaguely "the same happened to a lot of things ina seaport like Falmouth;" and that somehow this led us on to Mr. Stimcoe's delicate health, and this again to the subject of dampsheets, and this finally to Mrs. Stimcoe's suggesting that MissPlinlimmon might perhaps like to have a look at my bedroom. 

The bedroom assigned to me opened out of Mrs. Stimcoe's own. ("It will give him a sense of protection. A child feels the firstfew nights away from home. ") Though small, it was neat, and, for a boy's wants, amply furnished; nay, it contained at least onearticle of supererogation, in the shape of a razor-case on thedressing-table. Mrs. Stimcoe swept this into her pocket with a turnof the hand, and explained frankly that her husband, like mostscholars, was absent-minded. Here she passed two fingers slowlyacross her forehead. "Even in his walks, or while dressing, hisbrain wanders among the deathless compositions of Greece and Rome, turning them into English metres--all cakes especially"--she musthave meant alcaics--"and that makes him leave things about. "

I had fresh and even more remarkable evidence of Mr. Stimcoe'sabsent-mindedness two minutes later, when, the sheets having beenduly inspected, we descended to the parlour again; for, happening toreach the doorway some paces ahead of the two ladies, I surprised himin the act of drinking down Miss Plinlimmon's sherry. 

The interview was scarcely resumed before a mortuary silence fell onthe room, and I became aware that somehow my presence impeded thediscussion of business. 

"I think perhaps that Harry would like to run out upon the terraceand see the view from his new home, " suggested Mrs. Stimcoe, withobvious tact. 

I escaped, and went in search of the commodious playground, which Isupposed to lie in the rear of the house; but, reaching a back yard, I suddenly found myself face to face with three small boys, onestaggering with the weight of a pail, the two others bearing a fullwashtub between them; and with surprise saw them set down theirburdens at a distance and come tip-toeing towards me in a singlefile, with theatrical gestures of secrecy. 

"Hallo!" said I. 

"Hist! Be dark as the grave!" answered the leader, in astage-whisper. He was a freckly, narrow-chested child, and neededwashing. "You're the new boy, " he announced, as though he hadtracked me down in that criminal secret. 

"Yes, " I owned. "Who are you?"

"We are the Blood-stained Brotherhood of the Pampas, now upon thetrail!"

"Look here, " said I, staring down at him, "that's nonsense!"

"Oh, very well, " he answered promptly; "then we're the 'Backward Sonsof Gentlemen'--that's down in the prospectus--and we're fetchingwater for Mother Stimcoe, because the turncock cut off the company'swater this morning! See? But you won't blow the gaff on the oldgirl, will you?"

"Are you all there is, you three?" I asked, after considering them amoment. 

"We're all the boarders. My name's Ted Bates--they call me DoggyBates--and my father's a captain out in India; and these are BobPilkington and Scotty Maclean. You may call him Redhead, being toobig to punch; and, talking of that, you'll have to fight BullyStokes. "

"Is he a day-boy?" I asked. 

"He's cock of Rogerses up the hill, and he wants it badly. Stimcoes and Rogerses are hated rivals. If you can whack BullyStokes for us--"

"But Mrs. Stimcoe told me that you were taking a walk with thebutler, " I interrupted. 

Master Bates winked. 

"Would you like to see him?"

He beckoned me to an open window, and we gazed through it upon a bareback kitchen, and upon an extremely corpulent man in an armchair, slumbering, with a yellow bandanna handkerchief over his head toprotect it from the flies. Master Bates whipped out a pea-shooter, and blew a pea on to the exposed lobe of the sleeper's ear. 

"D--n!" roared the corpulent one, leaping up in wrath. But we werein hiding behind the yard-wall before he could pull the bandanna fromhis face. 

"He's the bailiff, " explained Master Bates. "He's in possession. Oh, you'll get quite friendly with him in time. Down in the townthey call him Mother Stimcoe's lodger, he comes so often. But, Isay, don't go and blow the gaff on the old girl. "

On our way to the coach-office that evening I felt--as the sayingis--my heart in my mouth. Miss Plinlimmon spoke sympathetically ofMr. Stimcoe's state of health, and with delicacy of hisabsent-mindedness, "so natural in a scholar. " I discovered longafterwards that Mr. Stimcoe, having retired to cash a note for her, had brought back a strong smell of brandy and eighteen-pence lessthan the strict amount of her change. I knew in my heart that my newschoolmaster and his wife were a pair of frauds, and yet I chokeddown the impulse to speak. Perhaps Master Bates's loyalty kept me onmy mettle. 

The dear soul and I bade one another farewell, she not without tears. The coach bore her away; and I walked back through the crowdedstreets with my spirits down in my boots, and my fists thrust deepinto the pockets of my small-clothes. 

In this dejected mood I reached the Market Strand just as CaptainCoffin came up it from the Plume of Feathers public-house, cursingand striking out with his stick at a mob of small boys. 

CHAPTER III. 

A STREET FIGHT, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

He emerged upon the street which crosses the head of Market Strand, and, dropping his arms, stood for a moment us if in doubt of hisbearings. He was flagrantly drunk, but not aggressively. He reminded me of a purblind owl that, blundering Into daylight, isset upon and mobbed by a crowd of small birds. 

The 'longshoremen and loafers grinned and winked at one another, butforbore to interfere. Plainly the spectacle was a familiar one. 

The man was not altogether repulsive; pitiable, rather; a small, leanfellow, with a grey-white face drawn into wrinkles about the jaw, andeyes that wandered timidly. He wore a suit of good sea-cloth--soiled, indeed, but neither ragged nor threadbare--and a blue andyellow spotted neckerchief, the bow of which had worked aroundtowards his right ear. His hat, perched a-cock over his left eye, had made acquaintance with the tavern sawdust. Next to hisdrunkenness, perhaps, the most remarkable thing about him was hisstick--of ebony, very curiously carved in rings from knob to ferrule, where it ended in an iron spike; an ugly weapon, of which histormentors stood in dread, and small blame to them. 

While he stood hesitating, they swarmed close and began to bay himafresh. 

"Captain Coffin, Captain Coffin!" "Who killed the Portugee?""Who hid the treasure and got so drunk he couldn't find it?""Where's your ship, Cap'n Danny?" These were some of the tauntsflung; and as the urchins danced about him, yelling them, the passionblazed up again in his red-rimmed eyes. 

Amongst the crowd capered Ted Bates. "Hallo, Brooks!" he shouted, and, catching at another boy's elbow, pointed towards me. Beyond noting that the other boy had a bullet-shaped head with earsthat stood out from it at something like right angles, I had time totake very little stock of him; for just then, us Captain Coffinturned about to smite, a stone came flying and struck him smartly onthe funny-bone. His hand opened with the pain of it, but the stickhung by a loop to his wrist, and, gripping it again, he charged amonghis tormentors, lashing out to right and left. 

So savagely he charged that I looked for nothing short of murder; andjust then, while I stood at gaze, a boy stepped up to me--the samethat Ted Bates had plucked by the arm. 

"Look here!" said he, frowning, with his legs a-straddle. "Doggy Bates tells me that you told him you could whack me with onehand behind you. "

I replied that I had told Doggy Bates nothing of the sort. 

"That's all right, " said he. "Then you take it back?"

He had the air of one sure of his logic, but his under lip--not tomention his ears--protruded in a way that struck me as offensive, andI replied--

"That depends. "

"My name's Stokes, " said he, still in the same reasonable tone. "And you'll have to take coward's blow. "

"Oh, indeed!" said I. 

"It's the rule, " said he, and gave it me with a light, back-handedsmack across the bridge of the nose; whereupon I hit him on the pointof the chin, and, unconsciously imitating Captain Coffin's method ofcharging a crowd, lowered my head and butted him violently in thestomach. 

I make no doubt that my brain was tired and giddy with the day'sexperiences, but to this moment I cannot understand why we twosuddenly found ourselves the focus of interest in a crowd which hadwasted none on Captain Coffin. 

But so it was. In less time than it takes to write, a ringsurrounded us--a ring of men staring and offering bets. The lamp atthe street-corner shone on their faces; and close under the light ofit Master Stokes and I were hammering one another. 

We were fighting by rule, too. Some one--I cannot say who--had takenup the affair, and was imposing the right ceremonial upon us. It mayhave been the cheerful, blue-jerseyed Irishman, to whose knee Ireturned at the end of each round to be freshened up around the faceand neck with a dripping boat-sponge. He had an extraordinarily widemouth, and it kept speaking encouragement and good advice to me. I feel sure he was a good fellow, but have never set eyes on him fromthat hour to this. 

Bully Stokes and I must have fought a good many rounds, for towardsthe end we were both panting hard, and our hands hung on every blow. But I remember yet more vividly the strangeness of it all, and theuncanny sensation that the fight itself, the street-lamp, the crowd, and the dim houses around were unreal as a dream: that, and theunnatural hardness of my opponent's face, which seemed the oneunmalleable part of him. 

A dreadful thought possessed me that if he could only contrive to hitme with his face all would be over. My own was badly pounded; for wefought--or, at any rate, I fought--without the smallest science; itwas blow for blow, plain give-and-take, from the start. But whatdistressed me was the extreme tenderness of my knuckles; and whatchiefly irritated me was the behaviour of Doggy Bates, dancing aboutand screaming, "Go it, Stimcoes! Stimcoes for ever!" Five times theonlookers flung him out by the scruff of his neck; and five times heworked himself back, and screamed it between their legs. 

In the end this enthusiasm proved the undoing of all his delight. Towards the end of an intolerably long round, finding that my armsbegan to hang like lead, I had rushed in and closed; and the two ofus went to ground together. Then I lay panting, and my opponentunder me--the pair of us too weary for the moment to strike a blow;and then, as breath came back, I was aware of a sudden hush in thedin. A hand took me by the shirt-collar, dragged me to my feet, andswung me round, and I stared, blinking, into the face of Mr. Stimcoe. 

"Dishgrashful!" said Mr. Stimcoe. He was accompanied by a constable, to whom he appealed for confirmation, pointing to my face. "Left immy charge only this evening, Perf'ly dishgrashful!"

"Boys will be boys, sir, " said the constable. 

"M' good fellow "--Mr. Stimcoe comprehended the crowd with anunsteady wave of his hand--"that don't 'pply 'case of men. _Ne tupu'ri tempsherish annosh_; tha's Juvenal. "

"Then my advice is, sir--take the boy home and give him a wash. "

"He can't, " came a taunting voice from the crowd. "'Cos why?The company 've cut off his water. "

Mr. Stimcoe gazed around in sorrow rather than in anger. He clearedhis throat for a public speech; but was forestalled by theconstable's dispersing the throng with a "Clear along, now, like goodfellows!"

The wide-mouthed man helped me into my jacket, shook hands with me, and said I had no science, but the devil's own pluck-and-lights. Then he, too, faded away into the night; and I found myself alongsideof Doggy Bates, marching up the street after Mr. Stimcoe, whodeclaimed, as he went, upon the vulgarity of street-fighting. 

By-and-by it became apparent that in the soothing flow of hiseloquence he had forgotten us; and Doggy Bates, who understood hispreceptor's habits to a hair, checked me with a knowing squeeze ofthe arm, and began, of set purpose, to lag in his steps. Mr. Stimcoestrode on, still audibly denouncing and exhorting. 

"It was all my fault!" Master Bates pulled up and studied my mauledface by the light of a street-lamp. "The beggar heard me shoutinghis own name, silly fool that I was!"

I begged him not to be distressed on my account. 

"What's the use of half a fight?" he groaned again. "My word, though, won't Stimcoe catch it from the missus! She sent him out toget change for your aunt's notes--'fees payable in advance. ' I knowthe game--to pay off the bailey; and he's been soaking in apublic-house ever since. Hallo!"

We turned together at the sound of footsteps approaching after us upthe street. They broke into a run, then appeared to falter; and, peering into the dark interval between us and the next lamp, Idiscerned Captain Coffin. He had come to a halt, and stood theremysteriously beckoning. 

"You--I want you!" he called huskily. "Not the other boy! You!"

I obeyed, having a reputation to keep up in the eyes of Doggy Bates;but my courage was oozing as I walked towards the old man, and I cameto a sudden stop about five yards from him. 

"Closer!" he beckoned. "Good boy, don't be afraid. What's yourname, good boy?"

"Harry Brooks, sir. "

"Call me 'sir, ' do you? Well, and you're right. I could ride in mycoach-and-six if I chose; and some day you may see it. How would youlike to ride in your coach-and-six, Harry Brooks?"

"I should like it finely, sir, " said I, humouring him. 

"Yes, yes, I'll wager you would. Well, now--come closer. Mum's theword, eh? I like you, Harry Brooks; and the boys in this town "--hebroke off and cursed horribly--"they're not fit to carry slops to abear, not one of 'em. But you're different. And, see here: any timeyou're in trouble, just pay a call on me. Understand? Mind you, Imake no promises. " Here, to my exceeding fright, he reached out ahand, and, clutching me by the arm, drew me close, so that his breathpoured hot on my ear, and I sickened at its reek of brandy. "It's _money_, boy--_money_, I tell you!"

He dropped my arm, and, falling back a pace, looked nervously abouthim. 

"Between you and me and the gatepost, eh?" he asked. 

His hand went down and tapped his pocket slily, and with that heturned and shuffled away down the street. I stared after him intothe foggy darkness, listening to the tap of his stick upon thecobbles. 

CHAPTER IV. 

CAPTAIN COFFIN STUDIES NAVIGATION. 

Events soon to be narrated made my sojourn in tutelage of Mr. Stimcoea brief one, and I will pass it lightly over. 

The school consisted of four boarders and six backward sons ofgentlemen resident in the town, and assembled daily in a largeouthouse furnished with desks of a peculiar pattern, known to us as"scobs. " Mr. Stimcoe, who had received his education as a"querister" at Winchester (and afterwards as a "servitor" at PembrokeCollege, Oxford), habitually employed and taught us to employ theesoteric slang--or "notions, " as he called it--of that great publicschool; so that in "preces, " "morning lines, " "book-chambers, " andwhat-not we had the names if not the things, and a vague and quiteillusory sense of high connection, on the strength of which, and ofour freedom from what Mrs. Stimcoe called "the commercial taint, " wemade bold to despise the more prosperous Rogerses up the hill. 

Upon commerce in the concrete--that is to say, upon the butchers, bakers, and other honest tradesmen of Falmouth--Mrs. Stimcoe waged apredatory war, and waged it without quarter. She had a genius foropening accounts, and something more than genius for keeping hercreditors at bay. She never wheedled nor begged them for time; shenever compromised nor parleyed, nor condescended to yield an inch totheir claims for decent human treatment. She relied simply uponbrowbeating and the efficacy of the straight-spoken lie. A moredauntless, unblushing, majestic liar never stood up in petticoats. 

She was a byword in Falmouth; yet, strange to say, her victims kept asneaking fondness for her, a soft spot In their hearts; while assporting onlookers we boys took something like a fearful pride in theWarrior, as we called her. It was not in her nature to encourage anysuch weakness, or to use it. She would not have thanked us for it. But we had this amount of excuse: that she fed us liberally when shecould browbeat the butcher; and if at times we went short, she sharedour privation. Also, there must have been some good in the woman, tostand so unflinchingly by Stimcoe. Stimcoe's books had gone intostorage at the pawnbroker's; but in his bare "study, " where he heardour construing of Caesar and Homer, stood a screen, and behind it aneighteen-gallon cask. A green baize tablecloth covered the cask fromsight, and partially muffled the sound of its running tap whenStimcoe withdrew behind the screen, to consult (as he put it) hislexicon. 

His one assistant, who figured in the prospectus as "Teacher ofEnglish, the Mathematics, and Navigation, " was a retiredpacket-captain, Branscome by name, but known among us as CaptainGamey, by reason of an injured leg. He had taken the hurt--asplintered hip-bone--while fighting his ship against a Frenchprivateer off Guadeloupe, and it had retired him from the service ofmy lords the Postmaster-General upon a very small pension, and with asword of honour subscribed for by the merchants of the City ofLondon, whose mails he had gallantly saved. These resources beingbarely sufficient to maintain him, still less to permit his helping awidowed sister whom he had partly maintained during his days ofservice, he eked them out by school mastering; and a dreadful tradehe must have found it. In person he was slight and wiry, of a clear, ruddy complexion, with grey hair, and a grave simplicity of manner. He wore a tightly buttoned, blue uniform coat, threadbare and frayed, but scrupulously brushed, noticeably clean linen, and white ducktrousers in all weathers. He walked with the support of a malaccacane, dragging his wounded leg after him; and had a trick of talkingto himself as he went. 

I need scarcely say that we mimicked him; but in school he kept farbetter discipline than Stimcoe, for, with all his oddity, we knew himto be a brave man. Such mathematics as we needed he taught capablyenough and very patiently. The "navigation, " so far as we wereconcerned, was a mere flourish of the prospectus; and hisqualifications as a teacher of English began and ended with anenthusiasm for Dr. Johnson's "Rasselas. "

Such was Captain Branscome: and, such as he was, he kept the schoolrunning on days when Stimcoe was merely drunk and incapable. He evertreated Mrs. Stimcoe with the finest courtesy, and, alone among hercreditors, was rewarded with that lady's respect. 

I knew, to be sure--we all knew--that she must be in arrears withCaptain Branscome's pay; but we were unprepared for the morning when, on the stroke of the church clock--our Greenwich time--he walked upto the door, resolutely handed Mrs. Stimcoe a letter, and asresolutely walked away again. Stimcoe had been maudlin drunk for aweek and could not appear. His wife heroically stepped into thebreach, and gave us (as a geography lesson) some account of her unclethe admiral and his career--"distinguished, but wandering, " as shesummarized it. 

I remember little of this lesson save that it dispensed--wisely, nodoubt--with the use of the terrestrial globe; that it included adescription of the admiral's country seat in Roscommon, and anaccount of a ball given by him to celebrate Mrs. Stimcoe's arrival ata marriageable age, with a list of the notabilities assembled; andthat it ended in her rapping Doggy Bates over the head with a ruler, for biting his nails. From that moment anarchy reigned. 

It reigned for a week. I have wondered since how our six day-boysmanaged to refrain from carrying home a tale which must have broughttheir parents down upon us _en masse_. Great is schoolboy honour--great, and more than a trifle quaint. In any case, the parents musthave been singularly unobservant or singularly slow to reason uponwhat they observed; for we sent their backward sons home to them eachnight in a mask of ink. 

Saturday came, and brought the usual half-holiday. We boarderscelebrated it by a raid upon the back yard of Rogerses--Bully Stokesbeing temporarily incapacitated by chicken-pox--and possessedourselves, after a gallant fight, of Rogerses' football. Superiornumbers drove us back to our own door, where--at the invocation ofall the householders along Delamere Terrace--the constableintervened; but we retained the spoil. 

At the shut of dusk, as we kicked the football in triumph about ourown back yard, Mrs. Stimcoe sought me out with a letter to beconveyed to Captain Branscome. I took it and ran. 

The lamplighter, going his rounds, met me at the corner of KilligrewStreet and directed me to the alley in which the captain's lodgingslay. The alley was dark, but a little within the entrance my eyescaught the glimmer of a highly polished brass door-knocker, and uponthis I rapped at a venture. 

Captain Branscome opened to me. The house had no passage. Its frontdoor opened directly upon a whitewashed room, with a round table inthe centre, covered with charts. On the table, too, stood a lamp, the light of which dazzled me for a moment. On the walls hung thecaptain's sword of honour (above the mantelpiece), a couple ofbookshelves, well stored, and a panel with a ship upon it--a brig infull sail--carved in high relief and painted. My eyes, however, werenot for these, but for a man who sat at the table, poring over thecharts, and lifted his head nervously to blink at me. It was CaptainCoffin. 

While I stared at him Captain Branscome took the letter from me. It contained some pieces of silver, as I knew from its weightand the feel of it--five shillings, as I judged, or perhapsseven-and-sixpence. As his hand weighed it I saw a sudden relief onhis face, and realized how grey and pinched it had been when heopened the door to me. 

He peised the envelope in his hand for a moment, then broke the sealvery deliberately, took out the coins, and, as if weighing them inhis palm, turned back to the table and laid Mrs. Stimcoe's letterclose under the lamp while he searched for his gold-rimmedspectacles. (There was a tradition at Stimcoe's, by the way, thatthe London merchants, finding a small surplus of subscriptions inhand after purchasing the sword of honour, had presented him withthese spectacles as a make-weight, and that he valued them no less. )

"Brooks, " said he, laying down the letter and pushing the spectacleshigh on his forehead while he gazed at me, "I want to ask you aquestion in confidence. Had Mrs. Stimcoe any difficulty in findingthis money?"

"Well, sir, " said I, "I oughtn't perhaps to know it, but she pawnedStim--Mr. Stimcoe's Cicero this morning, the six volumes with ashield on the covers, that he got as a prize at Oxford. "

"Good Lord!" said Captain Branscome, slowly. As if in absence ofmind, he stepped to a side-cupboard and looked within. It was barebut for a plate and an apple. He took up the apple, and was about tooffer it to me, but set it back slowly on the plate, and locked thecupboard again. "Good Lord!" he repeated quietly, and, linking hishands under his coat-tails, strode twice backwards and forwardsacross the room. 

Captain Coffin looked up from his charts and stared at him, and I, too, stared, waiting in the semi-darkness beyond the lamp's circle. 

"Good Lord!" said Captain Branscome for the third time. "And it'sSaturday, too! You'll excuse me a moment. "

With that he caught up the letter, and made a dart up the woodenstaircase, which led straight from a corner of the room through asquare hole in the ceiling to his upper chamber. 

"Money again!" said Captain Coffin, turning his eyes upon me andblinking. "Nothing like money!"

He picked up a pair of compasses, spread them out on the paper offigures before him, and looked up again with a sly, silly smile. 

"You won't guess what I'm doing?" he challenged. 

"No. "

"I'm studyin' navigation. Cap'n Branscome's larnin' it to me. Somepeople has luck an' some has heads; an' with a head on my shoulderssame as I had at your age, I'd be Prime Minister an' Lord Mayor ofLunnon rolled into one, by crum!" He reached across for CaptainBranscome's sextant, and held it between his shaking hands. "_He_ can do it; hundreds o' men--thick-headed men in the ord'naryway--can do it; take a vessel out o' Falmouth here, as you might say, and hold her 'crost the Atlantic, as you might put it; whip her alongfor thirty days, we'll say; an' then, 'To-morrow, if the wind holds, an' about six in the mornin', ' they'll say, 'there'll be an islandwith a two-three palm-trees on a hill an' a spit o' sand bearingnor'-by-west. Bring 'em in line, ' they'll say, 'an' then you mayfetch my shaving-water'--and all the while no more'n ordinary men, same as you and me. Whereby I allow it must come in time, though myhead don't seem to get no grip on it. "

Captain Coffin stared for a moment at a sheet of paper on which hehad been scribbling figures, and passed it over to me, with a sigh. 

"There! What d'you make of it?"

At a glance I saw that nothing could be made of it. The figurescrossed one another, and ran askew; here and there they trailed offinto mere illegibility. In the left-hand bottom corner I saw a 3 setunder a 10, and beneath it the result--17--underlined, which, as asum, left much to be desired, whether you took it in addition, subtraction, multiplication, or division. 

"And yet, " he went on plaintively, "there's hundreds can do it--evenord'nary men. "

He reached out a hand and gripped me by the elbow; and again hisbrandy-laden breath sickened me as he drew me close. 

"S'pose, now, _you_ was to do this for me? You _could_, you know. And there's money in it--lashin's o' money!"

He winked at me, glanced around the room, and with an indescribableair of slyness dived a hand into his breast-pocket. 

"It's here, " he nodded, drawing out a small parcel wrapped about inwhat at first glance appeared to me an oilskin bag, tied about theneck with a tarry string. "Here. And enough to set you an' me upfor life. " His fingers fumbled with the string for two or threeseconds, but presently faltered. "You come to me to-morrow, " he wenton, with another mysterious wink, "and I'll show you something. Up the hill, past Market Strand, till you come to a signboard, 'G. Goodfellow. Funerals Furnished'--first turning to the right downthe court, and knock three times. "

Here he whipped the parcel back into his pocket, picked up hiscompasses, and made transparent pretence to be occupied in measuringdistances as Captain Branscome came down the stairs from the garret. 

Captain Branscome gave no sign of observing his confusion, butsignalled to me to step outside with him into the alley, where hepressed an envelope into my hand. By the weight of it, I knew on theinstant that he was returning Mrs. Stimcoe's money, "And tell her, " said he, "that I will come on Monday morning at nineo'clock as usual. "

"Yes, sir. "

I turned to go. I could not see his face in the gloom of the alley, but I had caught one glimpse of it by the lamplight within, and knewwhat had detained him upstairs. Honest man, he was starving, and hadbeen praying up there to be delivered from temptation. 

"Brooks, " said he, as I turned, "they tell me your father was once amajor in the Army. Is he, by chance, the same Major Brooks--MajorJames Brooks, of the King's Own--I had the honour to bring home inthe _Londonderry_, after Corunna?"

"That must have been my father, sir. "

"A good man and a brave one. I am glad to hear he is recovered. "

I told him in a word or two of my father's health and of hisblindness. 

"And he lives not far from here?" I remembered afterwards that hisvoice shook upon the question. 

I described Minden Cottage and its position on the road towardsPlymouth. He cut me short hurriedly, and remarked, with a nervouslaugh, that he must be getting back to his pupil. Whereat I, too, laughed. 

"Do you think it wrong of me, boy?" he asked abruptly. 

"Wrong, sir?"

"He insists upon coming; and he pays me. He will never learnanything. By the way, Brooks, I have been inhospitable. An apple, for instance?"

I declared untruthfully that I never ate apples; and perhaps the liewas pardonable, since by it I escaped eating Captain Branscome'sSunday dinner. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE WHALEBOAT. 

A barber's pole protruded beside the ope leading to Captain Coffin'slodgings. It was painted in spirals of scarlet and blue, and at theend of it a cage containing a grey parrot dangled over the footway. 

"Drunk again!" screamed the parrot, as I hesitated before theentrance, for the directing-marks just here were so numerous as to beperplexing. To the right of the alley the barber had affixed hissignboard, close above the base of his pole; to the left a flankingslopshop dangled a row of cast-off suits, while immediately overheadwas nailed a board painted over with ornate flourishes and thelegend--

 "G. Goodfellow. Carpenter and House-Decorator, &c. Repairs Neatly Executed. Instruction in the Violin. Funerals at the Shortest Notice. Shipping Supplied. "

"Drunk again!" repeated the parrot. "Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kissme! Oh, you nasty image! Kiss me, kiss me! Who killed thePortugee?"

"He don't mean you, " explained the barber, reassuringly, emerging atthat moment from his shop with a pannikin of water for the parrot'scage, which he lowered very deftly by means of a halliard reevedthrough a block at the end of the pole. "He means old Coffin. Nice bird, hey?"

He slipped a hand through the cage-door, and caressed him, scratchinghis head. 

"If you please, sir, " said I, "it's Captain Coffin I'm looking for. "

"Drunk again!" screamed the bird. "Damn my giblets, drunk again!"

"He don't like Coffin, and that's a fact, " said the barber. 

"He don't appear to, sir, " I agreed. 

"You'll find the old fellow down the yard. That is, if you reallywant him. " The barber eyed me doubtfully. "He's sober enough, justnow; been swearin off liquor for a week. I dare say you know histemper's uncertain at such times. "

I did not know it, but was too far committed to retreat. 

"Well, you'll find him down the yard--green door to the right, withthe brass knocker. He's out at the back, hammering at his ship, buthe'll hear you fast enough: he's wonderful quick of hearing. "

A man, even though he possessed a solid brass knocker, had need to bequick of hearing in that alley. Without, street-hawkers were bawlingand carts rattling on the cobbled thoroughfare; from the entrance theparrot vociferated after me as I went down the passage beneath anopen window whence an invisible violin repeated the opening phrase of"Come, cheer up, my lads!" plaintively and persistently; while fromthe far end, somewhere between it and the harbour side, an irregularhammering punctuated the music. 

I knocked, and the hammering ceased. The rest of the din ceased not, nor abated. In about a minute the green door opened--a cautious inchor two at first, then wide enough to reveal Captain Coffin. He worea dirty white jumper over his upper garments, and held a formidablemallet. I observed that either his face was unnaturally white or therims of his eyes were unnaturally red, and that sawdust besprinkledhis hair and collar. I recalled the tavern sawdust which hadbepowdered his hat on the night of our first meeting, and jumped to awrong conclusion. 

"Eh? It's Brooks--the boy Brooks! Glad to see you, Brooks!Come inside. "

"Thank you, sir, " said I, feeling a strong impulse to bolt as heshook me by the hand, so hot was his and so dry, and so feverishlyit gripped me. 

"You're sure no one tracked ye here?" he asked, as he closed the doorbehind us. 

"There was a barber, sir, at the head of the passage. I stopped toask him the way. "

"_He's_ all right, or would be but for that cursed bird of his. How a man can keep such a bird--" Captain Coffin broke off. "I had a two-three nails in my mouth when you knocked. Nearly mademe swallow 'em, you did. They was copper nails, too. "

I suppose I must have stared at this, for he paused and peered at me, drawing me over to the window, through which--so thickly grimed itwas--a very little light dribbled from the courtyard into the room. Yet the room itself was clean, almost spick and span, with aseaman-like tidiness in all its arrangements--a small room, crowdedwith foreign odds-and-ends, among which I remember a walking-stickeven more singular than the one Captain Coffin carried on his walksabroad (it was white in colour, with lines of small greyindentations, and he afterwards told me it was a shark's backbone);a corner-cupboard, too, painted over with green-and-yellow tulips. 

"Copper nails, I tell you. Nothing but the best'll do for yourfriend Coffin. " He leaned back, still eyeing me, and tapped me twiceon the chest. "You heard me say that? 'Your friend' was my words. "

"Thank you, sir. "

"But you made me jump, you did--me being that way given when off theliquor. " He hesitated a moment, with a glance over his shoulder atthe tulip-painted cupboard. "Brooks, " he went on earnestly, "you andme being met on a matter of business, and the same needin'steadiness--head and hand, my boy, if ever business did--what d'yesay to a tot of rum apiece?"

Without waiting for my answer, he hobbled off to the cupboard, andhad set two glasses on the table and brimmed them with neat spiritbefore I had finished protesting. The bottle-neck trembled on therims of the glasses and struck out a sort of chime as he paused. 

"You won't?" he asked, gulping down his own portion; and the liquormust have been potent, for it brought a sudden water to his eyes. "Well, so be it--if you've kept off it at your age. But at mine"--he drank off the second glassful and wiped his mouth--"I've hadexperiences, Brooks. When you've heard 'em, you wouldn't besurprised, not if it took a dozen to steady me. "

He filled again, and came close to me, holding the glass, yet sotremulously that the rum spilled over his fingers. 

"Ingots, lad--golden ingots! Bars and wedges of solid gold!Gems, too, and cath-e-deral plate, with crucifixions and priests'vestments stiff with pearls and rubies as if they was frozen. I've seen 'em lyin' tossed in a heap like mullet in a ground-net. Ay, and blazin' on the beach, with the gulls screamin' over 'em andflappin', and the sea all around. I seen it with these eyes, boy" Hestood back and shivered. "And behind o' that, the Death! But itcomes equal to all, the Death. Not if a man had learned every trickthe devil can teach could he lay his course clear o' that. Could he, now?"

His words, his uncouth gestures, which were almost spasms, and thechanges in his face--from cupidity to terror, and from terror againto a kind of wistful hope--fairly frightened me, and I stammeredstupidly that death was the common lot, and there couldn't be a doubtof it; that or something of the sort. But what I said does notmatter. He was not listening, and before I had done he drained andset down the glass and gripped my arm again. 

"I seen all that--ay, an' felt it!" He drew away and stretched outboth hands, crooking his fingers like talons. "Ay, an' I seen_him!_"

"Him?" I echoed. "But you were talking of Death, sir. "

"You may call him that. There's men lyin' around in the sand--Did ever you hear, boy, of a poison that kills a man and keeps himfresh as paint?"

"No, sir. "

He nodded. "No, I reckon you never did. Fresh as paint it keeps'em, and white as a figure-head. The first heap as ever I dug, believin' it to be the treasure--my reckoning was out by a foot ortwo--I came on one o' them. Three foot beneath the sand I came onhim, an' the gulls sheevoing all the while over my head. _They_knew. And the sea and the dreadful loneliness around us all thewhile. There was three of us, Brooks--I mention no names, youunderstand--three of us, and _him_. Three to one. Yet he got thebetter of us all--as he got the better of the first lot, and _they_must ha' been a dozen. Four of them we uncovered afore we struck theedge of the treasure--uncovered 'em and covered 'em up again prettyquick, I can tell you. Fresh as paint they were, in a manner o'speaking, just as though they'd died yesterday; whereas by Bill'saccount they must ha' lain there for more'n a year. And the faces on'em white and shinin'--"

Here Captain Coffin shivered, and, glancing about him, poured outanother go of rum. 

"You wouldn't blame me for wantin' it, Brooks--not if you'd seen 'em. That was on the Keys, as they're called--half a dozen banks tono'thard of the island, and maybe from half a mile to three-quartersoff the shore, which shoals thereabout--sand, all the lot of 'em, andnothin' but sand; sand and sea-birds, and--what I told you. But thebulk lies in the island itself, in two caches; and where the biggercache lies _he_ don't know, and nobody knows but only Dan Coffin. "

Captain Coffin winked, touched his breast, and wagged his forefingerat me impressively. 

"That makes twice, " he went on. "Twice that devil has got the betterof every one. But the third time's lucky, they say. He may be deadafore this; he'll be getting an oldish man, anyway, and life on thatcursed island can't be good for his health. We won't go in a crowdthis time, neither; not a dozen, nor yet four of us, but only you an'me, Brooks. It's the safer way--the only safe way--an' there'll bethe fatter sharin's. Now you know--hey?--why Branscome's givin' melessons in navigation. "

He chuckled, and was moving off mysteriously to a back doorway behindthe dresser, but halted and came back to the table beside which Istood, making no motion to follow him. 

"Look ye here, Brooks, " said be. "If there's anything you don't getthe hang of--anything that takes ye aback, so to speak, in what I'mtellin' you--you just hitch on an' trust to old Dan Coffin; to oldDan, as'll do for you more than ever your godfathers an' godmothersdid at your baptism. You'll pick up a full breeze as you go on. Man, the treasure's there! Man, I've handled it, or enough of it tokeep you in a coach-an'-six, with nothing to do but loll on cushionsfor the rest o' your days, an' pick your teeth at the crowd. And look ye here. " He waved a hand around the room. "I'm old DannyCoffin, ain't I? poor old drunken Danny Coffin, eh? Yet cast an eyeabout ye. Nice fittin's, ben't they? Hitch down my coat off the pegthere; feel the cloth of it; take it between finger and thumb. Ay, I don't live upon air, nor keep house an' fixtures upon nothin'at all. There--if you want more proof!" He dived a hand into histrouser-pocket, and held out a golden coin under my nose. "There! that very dollar came from the island, and I'm offerin' youthe fellows to it by the thousand. Why? says you. Because, says I, you're a good lad, and I've took a fancy to see you in Parlyment. That's why. An' it's no return I'm askin' you, but just to believe!"

He made for the back door again, and opened it, letting in thesunlight; but the sunlight fell in two slanting rays, one on eitherside of a dark object which all but filled the entrance, blocking outmy view of the back court beyond. It was the stern of a tall boat. 

The boat, in fact, filled the small back court, leaving an alley-wayscarcely more than two feet wide along either party-wall. She restedon the stocks, about three-parts finished, in shape very like awhaleboat, and in measurement--so Captain Coffin informed me, with aproprietary wave of the hand--some twenty-nix feet over all, with abeam of nine feet six inches amidships. And even to a boy's eye sheshowed herself a pretty model, though (as I say) unfinished, with afoot and more of her ribs standing up bare and awaiting the topstrakes. 

"Designed her myself, Brooks. Eh, but your friend Dan'l Coffin hasan eye for the shape of a boat, though no hand at pencilling, norwhat you might call the cabinet-making part of the job. There's ayoung carpenter lives up the court here--a cleverish fellow. I got him to help me over the niceties, you understand; but on mylines, lad. Climb up and cast your eye over the well I've put inher. That's for the treasure; and there'll be side-lockers round thestern-sheets, and a locker forward big enough to hold a man. The fellow don't guess their meanin', an' I don't let him guess. He thinks they're for air-compartments, to keep her buoyant; saysshe'll need more ballast than I've allowed her, and wants to knowwhat sense there is in buildin' a boat so floatey. _We'll_ ballasther, Brooks; all in good time. We'll ship her aboard the Kingstonpacket, bein' of a size that she'll carry comfortable as deck-cargo;and soon as we get to Kingstown we'll--"

"Avast there, cap'n!" interrupted a cheerful voice; and I glanced up, to see a sandy-haired youth with an extremely good-natured facenodding at us across the coping of the party-wall. "Avast there!Busy with visitors, eh? No? Well, I've been thinkin' it over, andI'll take sixpence an hour. "

"I don't give a ha'penny over fippence, " answered Captain Coffin, patently taken aback by the interruption. 

"Fivepence, then, as a pro-temporary accommodation, " said the youth, and, throwing a leg over the wall, heaved himself over and into theback yard. "But it's taking advantage of me; and you know that if Iweren't in love and in a hurry it wouldn't happen. "

"You can take fippence, or go to the devil!" said Captain Coffin. "By the way, Brooks, this is my assistant, Mr. George Goodfellow. "

CHAPTER VI. 

MY FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE CHART. 

"Good day, " said Mr. George Goodfellow, nodding affably. "I hope Isee you well. "

"Pretty well, thank you, sir, " I answered. 

"And where might you come from, makin' so bold?"

I told him that I was a boarder at Mr. Stimcoe's. 

"Then, " said Mr. Goodfellow, taking off his coat and extracting apencil and a two-foot rule from a pocket at the back of hissmall-clothes, "I'm sorry for you. What a female!" He chose out along and flexible plank from a stack laid lengthwise in the alley-wayalong the base of the wall, lifted it, set it on three trestles, andbegan to measure and mark it off. "She's calculated to destroy one'sbelief in human nature, that's what she is! Fairly knocks the giltoff. Sometimes I can't hardly realize that she and Martha belong tothe same sex. Martha is my young woman. "

"Yes, sir?"

"Yes. At present she's living in Plymouth, assistant in aham-and-beef shop, as you turn down to the Barbican. That's herconscientiousness, instead of sitting at home and living on herparents. Don't tell me that women--by which I mean some women--ain'tthe equals of men. 

"Because, " continued Mr. Goodfellow, after a pause, "I know better. Ever been to Plymouth?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Live there?"

"No, sir. "

He seemed to be disappointed. 

"You go past the bottom of Treville Street, and there the shop is, slap in front of you. You can't miss it, because it has aplaster-of-Paris cow in the window, and the proprietor's calledMudge. I go to Plymouth every week on purpose to see her. "

"By coach, sir?" I asked, suddenly interested, and eager to comparenotes with him on the Royal Mail and its rivals, the Self-Defence andHighflyer. 

"Coach? Not a bit of it. Shank's mare, my boy, every step of theway; and Martha's worth it. That's the best of bein' in love; itmakes you want to do things. By the way, " he asked "you ain'tthinkin' to learn the violin, by any chance?"

"No, sir. "

"No, " he said reflectively. "You wouldn't--not at Stimcoe's. Not, mind you, that I believe in coddling. Nobody ever coddledNelson, and yet what happened?" He shut one eye, put his pencil toit for an imaginary telescope, and took a nautical survey of the backpremises. 

"That rain-shute's out of order, " he said, addressing Captain Coffin. "Give me a shilling to put it right for you, and you'll save yourselfa lot of trouble. "

"That's the landlord's affair, " answered Captain Coffin, "and I'm notpaying you fippence an' hour to talk. 

"But, sir, " I put in, "if you walk to Plymouth you must pass thehouse where I live--a low-roofed house about three miles this side ofSt. Germans village, with a thatch on it, and windows opening righton the road, and 'Minden Cottage' painted over the door. "

"Know it? Bless my soul, to be sure I know it! Why, the last timebut one I passed that way, taking note that one of the window-hingeswas out of gear, I knocked and asked leave to repair it. A lady withside-curls opened the door, and after the job was done took me intothe parlour an' gave me a jugful of cider over and above the sixpencecharged. I believe she'd have made it a shillin', too, only when Itold her she lived in a very pretty house, and asked if she owned itor rented it, she turned very stiff in her manner. Touchy as tindershe was; and if that comes of being a lady, I'm glad my Martha's moresociable. "

"That was Plinny--Miss Plinlimmon, I mean. You didn't catch sight ofmy father--Major Brooks?"

"No, I didn't. But I stopped to pass the time o' day with thelandlord of the Seven Stars Inn, a mile along the road, and there Iheard about 'en. So you're Major Brooks's son? Well, then, by allaccounts you've got a thunderin' good father. Old English gentleman, straight is a ramrod--pays his way, fears God and honours the King--such was the landlord's words; and he told me the cottage, as youcall it, was rented at twenty-five pounds a year, with a walledgarden an' a paddock thrown in, which I call dirt cheap. "

"I don't see that it's any business of yours what my father pays forhis house!" said I, my flush of pleasure changing to one ofannoyance. 

I glanced round for Captain Coffin's support, but he had walkedindoors, no doubt in despair of Mr. Goodfellow's loquacity. 

"No?" queried Mr. Goodfellow. "No, I dare say not; but you just waittill you fall in love. It's a most curious feelin'. First of all itmakes you want to pull off your coat and turn a hand to anything, from breakin' stones to playing the fiddle--it don't matter what, solong as you sweat an' feel you're earnin' money. Why, just take alook at my business card!" He stepped to his coat, pulled one fromhis pocket, and glanced over it proudly: 'George Goodfellow, Carpenter and Decorater--Cabinet Making in all its Branches--Repairsneatly executed--Funerals and Shipping supplied--Practical Valuer, and for Probate--Fire Office claims prepared and adjusted--GoodBerths booked on all the Packets, and guaranteed by personalinspection--Boats built and designed--Instruction in the Violin--Oldinstruments cleaned and repaired, or taken in exchange--Rowboat forhire. ' "There, put it in your pocket and take it away with you. I've plenty more in my desk. "

"That's what it feels like, bein' in love, " continued Mr. Goodfellow. "And, next thing, it makes you take a termenjus interest in houses--houses an' furnicher an' the price o' things--right down to butter, as you might say. I never see a house, now--leastways, a house thattakes my fancy--but I want to be measuring it an' planning out thefurnicher, an' the rent, an' where to stow the firewood, an' sittingdown cosy in it along with Martha--in the mind's eyes, as you maysay--one on each side o' the fire, an' making two ends meet. I pityany man that ends a bachelor. " He glanced towards the house. "By the way, how do you get along with Coffin?"

"He--he seems very kind. "

"Tis'n his way with boys as a rule. " Mr. Goodfellow tapped hisforehand with the end of his two-foot rule. "Upper story, " heannounced. 

"You think so?"

"Sure of it. Cracked as a bell. Not, " said Mr. Goodfellow, pickingup a saw and making ready to cut the plank lengthwise to hismeasurements--"not that there's any harm in the man, until he getsfoul of the drink. The tale is he gets his money out o' Government--a sort of pension. Was mixed up in the Spithead Mutiny, by oneaccount, an' turned informer; but there's another tale he earned itby some hanky-panky over in Lisbon, when the Royal Family therepacked up traps from the Brazils; and that's the story I favour, for(between you and me) I've seen Portugal money in his possession. "

So, indeed, had I. But Captain Coffin himself cut short the talk atthis point by appearing and announcing from the back doorstep that hehad a treat for me if I would come inside. 

The treat consisted in a dish of tea--a luxury in those times, rarelyafforded even at Minden Cottage--and a pot of guava-jelly, withCornish cream and a loaf of white, wheaten bread. Such bread, I needscarcely say, with wheat at 140 shillings a quarter, or thereabouts, never graced the table of Copenhagen Academy. But the dulcet, peculiar taste of guava-jelly is what I associate in memory with thatdelectable meal; and to this day I cannot taste the flavour of guavabut I find myself back in Captain Coffin's sitting-room, cutting athird slice from the wheaten loaf, with the corals and shells ofmother-of-pearl winking at me from among the china on the dresser, and Captain Coffin seated opposite, with the silver rings in hisears, and his eyes very white in the dusk and distinct within theirinflamed rims. 

"Nothing like tea, " he was saying--"nothing like tea to pull a manround from the drink and cock him back like a trigger. "

His right hand was at his breast as he spoke. It came out swiftly, as upon a sudden impulse. His left hand closed upon it and partlycovered it for a moment; then the two hands spread apart anddisclosed an oilskin case. 

"Brooks!" he whispered hoarsely. "Brooks, look at this!"

His fingers plucked at the oilskin wrapper, uncovered it, unfolded aninner parcel of parchment, and, trembling, spread it out on thetable. 

I leaned closer, and I saw a chart of the Island of Mortallone in theBay of Honduras dated MDCCLXXVII. From the scale on the chart, theisland was some eight to ten miles long in the north-south direction, and perhaps eight miles broad at the widest point. At the north endof the island, around a promontory called Gable Point, there werefive small islands called The Keys. To the south was a wide inletwith a ship seemingly in the act of sailing towards it. The eastward edge of this inlet was labelled Cape Fea and just aroundfrom this, in an easterly direction wa a small cove called Try-AgainInlet. In the sea to the west of the island was drawn a mythicalsea-monster. 

Twice, while I leaned across and stared at it, Captain Coffin'sfingers all but closed over the parchment to hide it from me. The afternoon light was falling dim, and I stood up to walk aroundthe edge of the table for a better look. As I pushed back my chairhe clutched his treasure away, and hid it away again in the breast ofhis jumper, at the same moment falling back and passing a hand overhis damp forehead. 

"No, no, Brooks! You mustn't think--Only you took me sudden. But my promise I've passed, and my promise I'll stand by. Come to-morrow, lad. "

Outside in the back yard I could hear Mr. Goodfellow, the slave oflove, sawing for dear life and Martha. 

CHAPTER VII. 

ENTER THE RETURNED PRISONER. 

Strange to say, although I paid six or eight visits after this toCaptain Coffin, and by invitation, and watched his whaleboatbuilding, and ate more of his delectable guava-jelly, I saw nothingmore of the chart for several months. 

On each occasion he treated me kindly, and made no secret of hishaving chosen me for his favourite and particular friend; butsomehow, without any words, he contrived to set up an understandingthat further talk about the chart and the treasure must wait untilthe boat should be ready for launching. In truth, I believe, a kindof superstitious terror restricted him. He trusted me, yet wasafraid of overt signs of trust. You may put it that during thiswhile he was testing, watching me. I can only answer that I had nosuspicion of being watched, and that in discussing the boat'sfittings with me--her tanks, wells, and general storage capacity--hetook it for granted that I followed and understood her purpose. If indeed he was testing me, in my innocence I took the best way toreassure him; for I honestly looked upon the whole business asmoonshine, and made no doubt that he was cracked as a fiddle. 

Christmas came, and the holidays with it. As Miss Plinlimmon sang--

 "Welcome, Christmas! Welcome, Yule! It brings the schoolboy home from school. [N. B. --Vulgarly pronounced 'schule' in the West of England. ] Puddings and mistletoe and holly, With other contrivances for banishing melancholy: Boar's head, for instance--of which I have never partaken, But the name has associations denied to ordinary bacon. "

Dear soul, she had been waiting at the door--so Sally, the cook, informed me--for about an hour, listening for the coach, and greetedme with a tremulous joy between laughter and tears. Before leadingme to my father, however, she warned me that I should find himchanged; and changed he was, less perhaps in appearance than in theperceptible withdrawal of his mind from all earthly concerns. He seldom spoke, but sat all day immobile, with the lids of his blindeyes half lowered, so that it was hard to tell whether he brooded ormerely dozed. On Christmas Day he excused himself from walking tochurch with us, and upon top of his excuse looked up with a suddenhappy smile--as though his eyes really saw us--and quoted Waller'sfamous lines:

 "The soul's dark cottage, battered and decay'd, Lets in new light through chinks that time hath made. . . . "

To me it seemed rather that, as its home broke up, the soul withdrewlittle by little, and contracted itself like the pupil of an eye, toshrink to a pinpoint and vanish in the full admitted ray. 

This our last Christmas at Minden Cottage was a quiet yet asingularly happy one. It was good to be at home, yet the end of theholidays and the return to Stimcoe's cast no anticipatory gloom on myspirits. To tell the truth, I had a sneaking affection forStimcoe's; and to Miss Plinlimmon's cross-examination upon itsinternal economies I opposed a careless manly assurance as hardlyfraudulent as Mr. Stimcoe's brazen doorplate or his lady'sfront-window curtains. The careful mending of my linen, too--forMrs. Stimcoe with all her faults was a needlewoman--helped to disarmsuspicion. When we talked of my studies I sang the praises ofCaptain Branscome, and told of his past heroism and his sword ofhonour. 

"Branscome? Branscome, of the _Londonderry?_" said my father. "Ay, to be sure, I remember Branscome--a Godfearing fellow and a goodseaman. You may take him back my compliments, Harry--my complimentsand remembrances--and say that if Heaven permitted us to meet againin this world, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to crack abottle with him. "

I duly reported this to Captain Branscome, and was taken aback by hisreception of it. He began in a sudden flurry to ask a dozenquestions concerning my father. 

"He keeps good health, I trust? It would be an honour to call andchat with the Major. At what hour would he be most accessible tovisitors?"

I stared, for in truth he seemed ready to take me at my word andstart off at once, and at my patent surprise he grew yet more nervousand confused. 

"I have kept a regard for your father, Brooks--a veneration, I mightalmost call it. Sailors and soldiers, if I may say it, are not aptto think too well of one another; but the Major from the firstfulfilled my conception of all a soldier should be-a gentlemanfearless and modest, a true Christian hero. Minden Cottage, you say?And fronting the road a little this side of St. Germans? Tell me, pray--and excuse the impertinence--what household does he keep?"

It is hard to write down Captain Branscome's questions on paper, anddivest them, as his gentle face and hesitating kindly manner divestedthem, of all offensiveness. I did not resent them at the time orconsider then impertinent. But they were certainly close and minute, and I had reason before long to recall every detail of his catechism. 

Captain Coffin, on the other hand, welcomed me back to Falmouth witha carelessness which disappointed if it did not nettle me. He fetched out the tea and guava-jelly, to be sure, but appeared totake no interest in my doings during the holidays, and wasuncommunicative on his own. This seemed the stranger because he hadimportant news to tell me. During my absence he and Mr. Goodfellowbetween them had finished the whaleboat. 

The truth was--though I did not at once perceive it--that upon itscompletion the old man had begun to drink hard. Drink invariablymade him morose, suspicious. His real goodwill to me had notchanged, as I was to learn. He had paid a visit to CaptainBranscome, and give him special instructions to teach me the art ofnavigation, the intricacies of which eluded his own fuddled brain. But for the present he could only talk of trivialities, andespecially of the barber's parrot, for which he had conceived aferocious hate. 

"I'll wring his neck, I will!" he kept repeating. "I'll wring hisneck one o' these days, blast me if I don't!"

I took my leave that evening in no wise eager to repeat the visit;and, in fact, I repeated it but twice--and each time to find him inthe same sullen humour--between then and May 11, the day when the_Wellingboro'_ transport cast anchor in Falmouth roads with twohundred and fifty returned prisoners of war. 

She had sailed from Bordeaux on April 20, in company with five othertransports bound for Plymouth, and her putting into Falmouth torepair her steering-gear came as a surprise to the town, which atonce hung out all its bunting and prepared to welcome her poorpassengers home to England with open arm. A sorry crew they looked, ragged, wild eyed, and emaciated, as the boats brought them ashore atthe Market Stairs to the strains of the Falmouth Artillery Band. The homes of the most of them lay far away, but England was England;and a many wept and the crowd wept with them at sight of theirtatters, for I doubt if they mustered a complete suit of good Englishcloth between them. 

Stimcoe, I need scarcely say, had given us a whole holiday; andStimcoe's and Rogerses met in amity for once, and cheered in thethrong that carried the home-comers shoulder high to the Town Hall, where the Mayor had arrayed a public banquet. There were speeches atthe banquet, and alcoholic liquors, both affecting in operation uponhis Worship's guests. Poor fellows, they came to it after longabstinence, with stomachs sadly out of training; and the streets ofFalmouth that evening were a panoramic commentary upon the danger ofundiscriminating kindness. 

Now at about five o'clock I happened to be standing at the edge ofthe Market Stairs, watching the efforts of a boat's crew to take adozen of these inebriates on board for the transport, when I heard myname called, and turned to see Mr. George Goodfellow beckoning to mefrom the doorway of the Plume of Feathers public-house. 

"It's Coffin, " he explained. "The old fool's sitting in the taproomas drunk as an owl, and I was reckonin' that you an' me between usmight get him home quiet before the house fills up an' mischiefbegins; for by the looks of it there'll be Newgate-let-loose inFalmouth streets to-night. "

I answered that this was very thoughtful of him; and so it was, and, moreover, providential that he had dropped in at the Plume ofFeathers for two-pennyworth of cider to celebrate the day. 

We found Captain Coffin seated in a corner of the taproom settle, puffing at an empty pipe and staring at vacancy. "Drunk as an owl"described his condition to a nicety; for at a certain stage in hisdrinking all the world became mirk midnight to him, and he wouldgrope his way home through the traffic at high noon in profound, pathetic belief that darkness and slumber wrapped the streets; onwhich occasions the dialogue between him and the barber's parrotmight be counted on to touch high comedy. I knew this, and knew alsothat in the next stage he would recover his eyesight, and at the sametime turn dangerously quarrelsome. If Mr. Goodfellow and I couldstart him home quietly, he would have reason to thank us to-morrow. 

We were bending over him to persuade him--at first, with smallsuccess, for he continued to stare and mutter as our voices coaxedwithout penetrating his muddled intelligence--when a party of'longshoremen staggered into the taproom, escorting one of thereturned prisoners, a thin, sandy-haired, foxy-looking man, withnarrow eyes and a neck remarkable for its attenuation and the numberand depth of its wrinkles. This neck showed above the greasy collarof a red infantry coat, from which the badges and buttons had longsince vanished; and for the rest the fellow wore a pair of dirtywhite drill trousers of French cut, French shoes, and a roundjapanned hat; but, so far as a glance could discover, neither shirtnor underclothing. When the 'longshoremen called for drink helaughed with a kind of happy shiver, as though rubbing his body roundthe inside of his clothes, cast a quick glance at us in our dimcorner, and declared for rum, adding that the Mayor of Falmouth was awell-meaning old swab, but his liquor wouldn't warm the vitals of ababy in clouts. 

As he announced this I fancied that our persuasions began to haveeffect on Captain Coffin, for his eyes blinked as in a strong light, and he seemed to pull himself together with a shudder; but a momentlater he relapsed again and sat staring. 

"Hallo!" said one of the 'longshoremen. "Who's that you're a-coaxin'of, you two? Old Coffin, eh? Well, take the old shammick home, an'thank 'ee. We're tired of 'en here. "

As I looked up to answer I saw the returned prisoner give a start, turn slowly about, and peer at us. He seemed to be badly scared, too, for an instant; for I heard a sudden, sharp click in histhroat--

"E-e-eh? Coffin, is it? Danny Coffin? Oh, good Lord!"

He came towards our corner, still peering, and, as he peered, crouching to that he spread his palms on his knees. 

"Coffin? Danny Coffin?" he repeated, in a voice that, as it lost itswondering quaver, grew tense and wicked and wheedling. 

Captain Coffin's face twitched, and it seemed to me that his eyes, though rigid, expanded a little. But they stared into the stranger'sface without seeing him. 

The fellow crouched a bit lower, and still lower, as he drew closeand thrust his face gradually within a yard of the old man's. 

"Shipmate Danny--messmate Danny--tip us a stave! The old stave, Danny!--

 "'And alongst the Keys o' Mortallone!'"

As his voice lifted to it in a hoarse melancholy minor (times andagain since that moment the tune has put me in mind of sea-birdscrying over a waste shore), I saw the shiver run across CaptainCoffin's face and neck, and with that his sight came back to him, andhe bounced upright from the settle, with a horrible scream, his handsfencing, clawing at air. 

The prisoner dropped back with a laugh. Mr. Goodfellow, at a chokingsound, put out a hand to loosen Captain Coffin's neckcloth; but theold man beat him off. 

"Not you! Not you! Harry!"

He gripped me by the arm, and, ducking his head, fairly charged mepast the 'longshoremen and out through the doorway into the street. As we gained it I heard the stranger in the taproom behind me breakinto a high, cackling laugh. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE HUNTED AND THE HUNTER. 

All the drunkenness had gone out of Captain Danny. Gripping my arm, he steered me rapidly through the knots of loafers, up Market Strandinto the crowded Fore Street, across it and up the hill towards opencountry, taking the ascent with long strides which forced me now andagain into a run. Twice or thrice I glanced up at his face, for Iwas scared, and badly scared. His mouth worked, and I observed smallbeads of sweat on his shaven upper lip; but he kept his eyes fastenedstraight ahead, and paid no heed to me. 

At the head of the street the town melted off into a suburb ofscattered houses, modest domiciles of twenty-five pounds or thirtypounds rentals, detached, each with its garden and narrowgarden-door, for Falmouth in those days boasted few carriage-folk. He paused once hereabouts, in the roadway between two walls, andstood listening, while his right hand trembled on his stick; butpresently gripped my arm again and hurried me forward, nor halteduntil we reached the summit, and the open country lay before us, withthe Channel and its long horizon on our left. Here, in a cornfieldon the very knap of the hill, and some two hundred yards back fromthe road, stood the shell of an old windmill, overlooking the sea--deserted, ruinous, without sails, a building many hundreds of yearsolder than the oldest house in Falmouth, serving now but as alandmark for fishermen, and on Sundays a rendezvous for courtingcouples. At the stile leading into the cornfield, Captain Coffinreleased me, climbed over, hurried up the footpath to the windmill, and, having satisfied himself that the building was empty, motionedme to seat myself on the side where its long shadow pointed downacross a bank of nettles, and beyond the edge of the green youngbarley sheeting the slope towards the harbour. 

"Brooks, " he began--but his voice rattled like a dried pea in a pod, and he had to moisten his under-lip with his tongue before he couldproceed--"Brooks, are you in any way a superstitious kind o' boy?"

"That depends, sir, " said I, diplomatically. 

"After all these years, too, " he groaned, "an' agen' all likelihoodo' natur'. But you saw him--hey? You heard what he said, an' thatcussed song, too? Sang it, he did; slapped it out at the top of hisvoice in a public tavern. I tell you, Brooks--knowin' what _he_knows--a man must have all hell runnin' cold in him to sing themwords aloud an' not care who heard. "

"Why, he sang but a line of it, " said I, "and that harmless enough, though dismal. "

"Is that so, lad--is that so?" Captain Danny put out a hand like abird's claw and hooked me by the cuff. "Wasn' there nothing in itabout Execution Dock; nothing about ripe medlars--'medlars a-rottin'on the tree'? No?"--for I shook my head. "Well, then, I could besworn I heard him singin' them words for minutes, an' me sittin' allthe while wi' the horrors on me afore I dared look in his damnedface. An' you tell me he piped but a line of it?" His eyes searchedmine anxiously. "Brooks, " he went on, in a voice almost coaxing, "I'd give five hundred pound at this moment if you could look me inthe face an' tell me the whole scare was nothing but fancy--that _he_wasn't there!"

His grasp relaxed as I shook my head again. Despair grew in hiseyes, and he pulled back his hand. 

"I'll put it to you another way, " said he, after seeming to reflectfor a while. "Suppose there was a couple o' men mixed up in an uglyjob--by which I don't mean to say there was any real harm in thebusiness; leastways not to start with; but, as it went on, these twomen were forced to do something that brought them within reach o' thelaw. We'll put it that, when the thing was done, the one o' thispair felt it heavy upon his mind, but t'other didn' care no more thana brass button; an' the one that took it serious--as you might say--lost sight o' the other for years, an' meantime picked up with alittle religion, an' made oath with hisself that all the profits o'the job (for there were profits) should come into innocent hands--You catch on to this?"

I nodded. 

"Well, then"--he leant forward, his palm resting amid a bed ofnettles. He did not appear to feel their sting, although, while hespoke, I saw the bark of his hand whiten slowly with blisters--"well, then, you can't go for to argue with me that the A'mightywould go for to strike the chap that repented by means o' the chapthat didn'. Tisn' reasonable nor religious to think such a thing--isit now?"

"He might punish the one first, " said I, judicially, "and keep theother--the wicked man--for a worse punishment in the end. A greatdeal, " I added, "might depend on what sort of crime they'd committed. If 'twas a murder, now--"

"Murder?" He caught me up sharply, and his eyes turned from watchingme, to throw a quick glance back along the footpath, then fastenedthemselves on the horizon. "Who's a-talkin' of any such thing?"

"I was putting a case, sir--putting it as bad as possible. 'Murder will out, ' they say; but with smaller crimes it may bedifferent. "

"Murder?" He sprang up and began to pace to and fro. "How came thatin your head, eh?" He threw me a furtive sidelong look, and haltedbefore me mopping his forehead. "I'll tell you what, though: Murderthere'll be if you don't help me give that devil the slip. "

"But, sir, he never offered to follow you. "

"Because he reckoned I couldn' run--or wouldn', as I've never runfrom him yet. But with you in the secret I must give him leg-bail, no matter what it costs me. And, see here, Brooks: you're clever foryour age, an' I want your advice. In the first place, I daren't gohome; that's where he'll be watchin' for me sooner or later. Next, our plans ain't laid for startin' straight off--here as we be--an'givin' him the go-by. Third an' last, I daren't go carryin' thesecret about with me; he might happen on me any moment, an' I'm notin trainin'. The drink's done for me, boy, whereas _he_'ve beenfarin' hard an' livin' clean. " Captain Coffin, with his hands deepin his pockets, stared down at the transport at anchor below, andbent his brows. "I can't turn it over to you, neither, " he mused. "That might ha' done well enough if he hadn' seen you in my company;but now we can't trust to it. "

He took another dozen paces forth and back, and halted before meagain. 

"Brooks, " he said, "how about your father?"

"The very man, sir, " I answered; "that is, if you would trust him. "

"Cap'n Branscome tells me he's one in a thousand. I thought first o'Branscome, but there's folks as know about my goin' to him fornavigation lessons; an' if Glass got hold o' that, 'twould be a hotscent. "

"Glass?" I echoed. 

"That's his d--d name, lad--Aaron Glass; though he've passed underothers, and plenty of 'em, in his time. Well, now, if I can slip outo' Falmouth unbeknowns to him, an' win to your father--on thePlymouth road, I've heard you say and a little this side ofSt. Germans--"

"You might walk over to Penryn and pick up the night coach. "

Captain Coffin shook his head as he turned out his pockets. 

"One shilling, lad, an' two ha'pennies. It won't carry me. An' Idaren' go home to refit; an' I daren' send _you_. "

"I could take a message to Captain Branscome, " I suggested; "an' hemight fetch you the money, if you tell him where to look for it. "

"That's an idea, " decided Captain Coffin, after a moment's thought. He unbuttoned his waistcoat, dived a hand within the breast of hisshirt, and pulled forth a key looped through with a tarry string. This string he severed with his pocket-knife. "Run you down to thecap'n's lodgings, " said he, handing me the key, "an' tell him to gostraight an' unlock the cupboard in the cornder--the one wi' thetoolips painted over the door. You know it? Well, say that on thesecond shelf he'll find a small bagful o' money--he needn't stay tocount it--an' 'pon the same shelf, right back in the cornder, a rollo' papers. Tell him to keep the papers till he hears from me, butthe bag he's to give to you, an' you're to bring it along quick--_with_ the key. Mind, you're not to go with him on any account; an'if you should run against this Glass on your way, give him a wideberth--go straight home to Stimcoe's--do _anything_ but lay him on tomy trail by comin' back to tell me. Understand? There, now, hark tothe town clock chimin' below there! Six o'clock it is--four bells. If you're not back agen by seven I shall know what's happened an'take steps accordin'. An' _you'll_ know that I'm on my way to yourfather by another tack. 'What tack?' says you. 'Never you mind, 'says I. If the worst comes to the worst, old Dan Coffin has a shotleft in his locker. "

I took the key and ran. The alley where Captain Branscome lodged laya gunshot on this side of the Market Strand; and while I ran I kept--as the saying is--my eyes skinned for a sight of the enemy. The coast, however, was clear. 

But at Captain Branscome's door a wholly unexpected disappointmentawaited me. It was locked, and I had not hammered on its shiningbrass knocker before a neighbouring housewife put forth her head froma window in the gathering dusk, and informed me that the captain wasnot at home. He had gone out early in the afternoon, and left hisdoorkey with her, saying that he was off on a visit, and would notreturn before to-morrow afternoon at earliest. For a moment I wastempted to disobey Captain Danny's injunctions, and fetch the moneymyself, or at least make a bold attempt for it; but, recollecting howearnestly he had charged me, and how cheerfully at the last he hadassured me that he had still a shot in his locker, I turned andmounted the hill again, albeit dejectedly. 

The moon was rising as I climbed over the stile into the footpath, and, recognizing my footstep, the old man came forward to meet me, out of the shadow on the western side of the windmill, to which hehad shifted his watch. 

My ill-success, depressing enough to me, he took very cheerfully. 

"I was afraid, " said he, "you might be foolin' off for the money onyour own account. Gone on a visit, has he? Well, you can hand himthe key to-morrow, with my message. An' now I'll tell you my nextnotion. The St. Mawes packet"--this was the facetious name given toa small cutter which plied in those days between Falmouth and thesmall village of St. Mawes across the harbour--"the St. Mawes packetis due to start at seven-thirty. I won't risk boardin' her at MarketStrand, but pick up a boat at Arwennack, an' row out to hail her asshe's crossin'. She'll pick me up easy, wi' this wind; but if shedon't, I'll get the waterman to pull me right across. Bogue, thelandlord of The Lugger over there, knows me well enough to lend meten shillin', an' wi' that I can follow the road through Tregony toSt. Austell, an' hire a lift maybe. "

I could not but applaud the plan. The route he proposed cut off acorner, led straight to Minden Cottage, and was at the same time theone on which he was least likely to be tracked. We descended thehill together, keeping to the dark side of the road. At the foot ofthe hill we parted, with the understanding that I was to run straighthome to Stimcoe's, and explain my absence at locking-up--or, as Mr. Stimcoe preferred to term it, "names-calling"--as best I might. 

Thereupon I did an incredibly foolish thing, which, as it proved, defeated all our plans and gave rise to unnumbered woes. I wasalready late for names-calling; but for this I cared little. Stimcoe had not the courage to flog me; the day had been a holiday, and of a sort to excuse indiscipline; and, anyway, one might as wellsuffer for a sheep as for a lamb. The St. Mawes packet would belying alongside the Market Strand. The moon was up--a round, fullmoon--and directly over St. Mawes, so that her rays fell, as near asmight be, in the line of the cutter's course, which, with a steadybreeze down the harbour, would be a straight one. From the edge ofMarket Strand I might be able to spy Captain Coffin's boat as heboarded. Let me, without extenuating, be brief over my act of folly. Instead of making at once for Stimcoe's, I bent my steps towardsMarket Strand. The St. Mawes packet lay there, and I stood on theedge of the quay, watching her preparations for casting off--theskipper clearing the gangway and politely helping aboard, between thewarning notes of his whistle, belated marketers who came running withtheir bundles. 

While I stood there, a man sauntered out and stood for a moment onthe threshold of the Plume of Feathers. It was the man Aaron Glass, and, recognizing him, I (that had been standing directly under thelight of the quay-lamp) drew back from the edge into the darkness. I had done better, perhaps, to stand where I was. How long he hadbeen observing me--if, indeed, he had observed me--I could not tell. But, as I drew back, he advanced and strolled nonchalantly past me, at five yards distance, down to the quay-steps. 

"All aboard for St. Mawes!" called the skipper, drawing in his plank. 

"All but one, captain!" answered Glass, and, disdaining it, withoutremoving his hands from his pockets, put a foot upon the bulwark andsprang lightly on to her deck. 

CHAPTER IX. 

CHAOS IN THE CAPTAIN'S LODGINGS. 

I leave you to guess what were my feelings as foot by foot thepacket's quarter fell away wider of the quay. If, as the skipperthrust off, I had found presence of mind to jump for her, who knowswhat mischief might have been prevented? I could at least--whateverthe consequences--have called a warning to Captain Coffin to give hisenemy a wide-berth. But I was unnerved; the impulse came too late;and as the foresail filled and she picked up steerage way, I stoodhelpless under the lamp at the quay-head--stood and stared after her, alone with the sense of my incredible folly. 

Somewhere out yonder Captain Coffin was waiting in his shore-boat. I listened, minute after minute, on the chance of hearing his hail. A heavy bank of cloud had overcast the moon, and the packet meltedfrom sight in a blur of darkness. Worst of all--worse even than thesting of self-reproach--was the prospect of returning to Stimcoe'sand wearing through the night, while out there in the darkness thetwo men would meet, and all that followed their meeting must happenunseen by me. 

This ordeal appeared so dreadful to me in prospect that I began tocast about among all manner of impracticable plans for escaping it. Of these the most promising--although I had no money--was to give theStimcoes leg-bail and run home; the most alluring, too, since itoffered to deaden the torment of uncertainty by keeping me employed, mind and body. I must follow the coach-road. In imagination Imeasured back the distance. If George Goodfellow walked to Plymouthand back once a week, why might not I succeed in walking to MindenCottage? Home was home. I should get counsel and comfort there;counsel from my father and comfort most assuredly from Plinny. I needed both, and in Falmouth just now there was none of either. Even Captain Branscome, who might have helped me--

At this point a sudden thought fetched me up with a jerk. The enemy, by pursuing after Captain Danny, had at least left me a clear coast. I was safe for a while against his spying, and consequently theembargo was off. I had no need to wait for morning. I could gomyself to the old man's lodgings, unlock the corner cupboard, andbring away the roll of papers. 

I dived my hand into my breech-pocket for the forgotten key. It wassmall, and of a curious, intricate pattern. Almost before my fingersclosed upon it my mind was made up. Stimcoe's--that is, if I decidedto return to Stimcoe's--might wait. I might yet decide to breakship--as Captain Danny would have put it--and make a push for home;but that decision, too, must wait. Meanwhile, here was an urgenterrand, and a clear coast for it; here was occupation andinexpressible relief. It's an ill wind that blows nobody some good. 

I set off at a run. On my way I met and passed half a dozen gangs ofhilarious ex-prisoners and equally hilarious townsmen escorting themto the waterside, where the coxswains of the transport's boats wereby this time blowing impatient calls on their whistles. But theupper end of the street was well-nigh deserted. A dingy oil lanternoverhung the pavement a few yards from the ope, and above the ope thebarber's parrot hung silent, with a shawl flung over its cage. I dived into the dark passage, and, stumbling my way to CaptainDanny's door, found that it gave easily to my hand. 

For a moment I paused on the threshold, striving to remember where hekept his tinder-box and matches. But the room was small. I knew thegeography of it, and could easily--I told myself--grope my way to thecorner, find the cupboard, and, feeling for the keyhole, insert thekey. I was about to essay this when the thought occurred to me that, as Captain Danny had left the door on the latch, so very likely withequal foresight he had placed his tinder-box handy--on the table, itmight be. I put out my hand in the direction where, as Irecollected, the table stood. It reached into empty darkness. Itook another step and groped for the table with both hands. Still darkness, nothing but darkness! I took yet another step andstruck my foot against a hard object on the floor; and, as I bent toexamine this, something sharp and exceeding painful thrust itselfinto my groin--a table-leg, upturned. 

Recovering myself, I passed a hand over it. Yes, undoubtedly it wasa table-leg and the table lay topsy-turvy. But how came it so?Who had upset it, and why? I took another step, sideways, and myboot struck against something light, and, by its sound, hollow andmetallic. Stooping very cautiously--for by this time I had takenalarm and was holding my breath--I passed a hand lightly over thefloor. My fingers encountered the object I had kicked aside. It was a tinder-box. I clutched it softly, and as softly drew myselfupright again. Could I dare to strike a light? The overturnedtable: What could be the meaning of it? It could not have beenoverturned by Captain Coffin? By whom then? Some one must havevisited the lodgings in his absence. 

Some one, for aught I knew, was in the room at this moment!--Some one, back there against the wall, waiting only for me to strikea light! I declare that at the thought I came near to screamingaloud, casting the tinder-box from me and rushing out blindly intothe court. 

I dare say that I stood for a couple of minutes, motionless, listening not with my ears only but with every hair of my head. Nevertheless, my wits must have been working somehow; for my firstaction, when I plucked up nerve enough for it, was an entirelysensible one. I set the tinder-box on the floor between my heels, felt for the table, and righted it; then, picking up the box again, set it on the table and twisted off the lid. I found flint and steelat once, dipped my fingers into the box to make sure of the tinderand the brimstone matches, and so, after another pause to listen, essayed to strike out the spark. 

This, for a pair of trembling hands, proved no easy business, and atfirst promised to be a hopeless one. But the worst moment arrivedwhen, the spark struck, I stooped to blow it upon the tinder, theglow of which must light up my own face while it revealed to menothing of the surrounding darkness. Still, it had to be done; and, keeping a tight hold on what little remained of my courage, I thrustin the match and ignited it. 

While the brimstone caught fire and bubbled I drew myself erect toface the worst. But for what met my eyes as the flame caught hold ofthe stick, even the overturned table had not prepared me. 

The furniture of the room lay pell-mell, as though a cyclone hadswept through it. The very pictures hung askew. Of the drawers inthe dresser some had been pulled out bodily, others stood half open, and all had been ransacked; while the fragments of china strewn alongthe shelves or scattered across the floor could only be accounted forby some blind ferocity of destruction--a madman, for instance, letloose upon it, and striking at random with a stick. As the matchburned low in my fingers I looked around hastily for a candle, scanning the dresser, the mantel-shelf, the hugger-mugger of linen, crockery, wall-ornaments, lying in a trail along the floor. But nocandle could I discover; so I lit a second match from the first andturned towards the sacred cupboard in the corner. 

The cupboard was gone!

I held the match aloft, and stared at the angle of the wall; staredstupidly, at first unable to believe. Yes, the cupboard was gone!Nothing remained but the mahogany bracket which had supported it. I gazed around, the match burning lower and lower in my hand till itscorched my fingers. The pain of it awakened me, and, dropping thecharred end, I stumbled out into the passage, almost falling on theway as my feet entangled themselves in Captain Coffin's besttable-cloth. 

A moment later I was rapping at Mr. George Goodfellow's door. I knew that he sometimes sat up late to practice his violin-playing;and in my confusion of terror I heeded neither that the house wassilent nor that the window over his doorway showed a blank and unlitface to the night. I knocked and knocked again, pausing to call hisname urgently, at first in hoarse whispers, by-and-by desperately, lifting my voice as loudly as I dared. 

At length a voice answered; but it came from the end of the passagenext, the street, and it was not Mr. Goodfellow's. 

"D--n my giblets!" it said, in a kind of muffled scream. "Drunk again! Oh, you nasty image!"

It was the barber's accursed parrot. I could hear it tearing withits beak at the bars of its cage, as if struggling to pull off thecloth which covered it. 

A window creaked on its hinges, some way up the court. 

"Hallo! Who's there?" demanded a gruff voice. 

I took to my heels, and made a dash up the passage for the street. The cage, as I passed under it, swayed violently with the parrot'sstruggles for free speech. 

"Drunk again!" it yelled. "Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me--here's apretty time o' night to disturb a lady!"

No longer had I any thought of braving the night and the perils ofthe road, but pressed my elbows tight against my ribs and racedstraight for Stimcoe's. 

CHAPTER X. 

NEWS. 

By great good fortune, Mr. Stimcoe had been drinking the health ofthe returned prisoners until his own was temporarily affected. In fact, as I reached Delamere Terrace, panting and excogitating thelikeliest excuse to offer Mrs. Stimcoe, the door of No. 7 opened, andthe lady herself emerged upon the night, with a shawl swathedcarelessly over her masculine neck and shoulders. 

I drew up and ducked aside to avoid recognition, but she halted underthe lamp and called to me, in no very severe voice--

"Harry!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"You are late, and I have been needing you. Mr. Stimcoe is sufferingfrom an attack. "

"Indeed, ma'am?" said I. "Shall I run for Dr. Spargo?"

She stood for a moment considering. "No, " she decided; "I had betterfetch Dr. Spargo myself. Being more familiar with the symptoms, Ican describe them to him. "

More familiar with the symptoms, poor woman, she undoubtedly was, though I was familiar enough; and so, for the matter of that, was thedoctor, whose ledger must have registered at least a dozen similar"attacks. " But I understood at once her true reason for notentrusting me with the errand. It would require all her courage, allher magnificent impudence, to browbeat Dr. Spargo into coming, for Idoubt if the Stimcoes had ever paid him a stiver. 

"But you can be very useful, " she went on, in a tone unusuallygentle. "You will find Mr. Stimcoe in his bedroom--at least, I hopeso, for he suffers from a hallucination that some person or personsunknown have incarcerated him in a French war-prison, such being theeffect of to-day's--er--proceedings upon his highly strung nature. The illusion being granted, one can hardly be surprised at hisresenting it. "

I nodded, and promised to do my best. 

"You are a very good boy, Harry, " said Mrs. Stimcoe--a verdict sodifferent from that which I had arrived expecting, or with any rightto expect, that I stood for some twenty seconds gaping after her asshe pulled her shawl closer and went on her heroic way. 

I found Mr. Stimcoe in _deshabille_, on the first-floor landing, under the derisive surveillance of Masters Doggy Bates, BobPilkington, and Scotty Maclean, whose graceless mirth echoed down tome from the stair-rail immediately overhead. Ignoring my preceptor'sinvitation to bide a wee and take a cup of kindness yet for auld langsyne, I ran up and knocked their heads together, kicked them into thedormitory, turned the key on their reproaches, and--thesepreliminaries over--descended to grapple with the situation. 

Mr. Stimcoe, in night garments, was conducting a dialogue in which hefigured alternately as the tyrant and the victim of oppression. In the character of Napoleon Bonaparte he had filled a footbath withcold water, and was commanding the Rev. Philip Stimcoe to strip--ashe put it--to the teeth, and immerse himself forthwith. As the Rev. Philip Stimcoe, patriot and martyr, he was obstinately, and with evenmore passion, refusing to do anything of the kind, and for theequally cogent reasons that he was a Protestant of the Protestantsand that the water had cockroaches in it. 

"Of course, " said Mr. Stimcoe to me, "if you present yourself asAlexander of Russia, there is no more to be said, always provided"--and here he removed his nightcap and made me a profound bow--"thatyour credentials are satisfactory. "

Apparently they were. At any rate, I prevailed on him to return tohis room, when he took my arm, and, seating himself on the bedside, recited to me the paradigms of the more anomalous Greek verbs withgreat volubility for twenty minutes on end--that is to say, untilMrs. Stimcoe returned with the doctor safely tucked under her wing. 

At sight of me seated in charge of the patient, Dr. Spargo--a mildlittle man--lifted his eyebrows. 

"Surely, madam--" he began in a scandalized tone. 

"This is Harry Brooks. " Mrs. Stimcoe introduced me loftily. "If you wish him to retire, be kind enough to say so, and have donewith it. Our boarders, I may say, have the run of the house--it ispart of Mr. Stimcoe's system. But Harry has too much delicacy toremain where he feels himself _de trop_. Harry, you have my leave towithdraw. "

I obeyed, aware that the doctor--who had pushed his spectacles highupon his forehead--was following my retreat with bewildered gaze. As I expected, no sooner had I regained the dormitory than myfellow-boarders--forgetting their sore heads, or, at any rate, forgiving--began to pester me with a hundred questions. I had torepeat the punishment on Doggy Bates before they suffered me to liedown in quiet. 

But the interlude, in itself discomposing, had composed my nerves forthe while. I expected no sleep; had, indeed, an hour ago, deemed itimpossible I should sleep that night. Yet, in fact, my head wasscarcely on the pillow before I slept, and slept like a top. 

The town clock awoke me, striking four. To the far louder sound ofScotty Maclean's snoring, in the bed next to mine, I wascase-hardened. I lay for a second or two counting the strokes, thensprang out of bed, and, running to the window, drew wide the curtain. The world was awake, the sun already clear above the hills over St. Just pool, and all the harbour twinkling with its rays. My eyessearched the stretch of water between me and St. Mawes, as though forflotsam--anything to give me news, or a hint of news. For manyminutes I stood staring--needless to say, in vain--and so, themorning being chilly, crept back to bed with the shivers on me. 

Two hours later, in the midst of my dressing, I looked out of thewindow again, and I saw the St. Mawes packet reaching across towardsFalmouth merrily, quite as if nothing had happened. Yet something--I told myself--_must_ have happened. 

The Copenhagen Academy enjoyed a holiday that day, for CaptainBranscome failed to present himself, and Mr. Stimcoe lay under theinfluence of sedatives. At eleven in the morning he awoke, and beganto discuss the character of Talleyrand at the pitch of his voice. Its echoes reached me where I sat disconsolate in the desertedschoolroom, and I went upstairs to the bedroom door to offer myservices. Doggy Bates, Pilkington, and Scotty Maclean had hied themimmediately after breakfast to the harbour, to beg, borrow, or steala boat and fish for mackerel; and Mrs. Stimcoe, worn out withwatching, set down my faithful presence to motives of which I wasshamefully innocent. In point of fact, I had lurked at home becauseI could not bear company. I preferred the deserted schoolroom, though Heaven knows what I would not have given for the dulldistraction of work--an hour of Rule of Three with Captain Branscome, or Caesar's Commentaries with Mr. Stimcoe. But Mr. Stimcoe layupstairs chattering, and Captain Branscome appeared to be taking aprotracted holiday. It hardly occurred to me to wonder why. 

It was borne in upon me later that during this interval of anarchy inthe Stimcoe establishment--it lasted two days, and may have lastedlonger for aught I know--I wasted little wonder on the continuedabsence of Captain Branscome. I was indeed kept anxious by my ownfears, which did not decrease as the hours dragged by. From thewindow of Mr. Stimcoe's sickroom I watched the St. Mawes packetplying to and fro. I had a mind to steal down to the Market Strandand interrogate her skipper. I had a mind--and laid more than oneplan for it--to follow up my first impulse of bolting for home, todiscover if Captain Coffin had arrived there. But Mrs. Stimcoe, misinterpreting my eagerness to be employed, had by this timeenlisted me into full service in the sick-room. After the first hintof surprised gratitude, she betrayed no feeling at all, but bound meseverely to my task. We took the watching turn and turn about, inspells of three hours' duration. I was held committed, and could notdesert without a brand on my conscience. The disgusting feature ofthis is that I was almost glad of it, at the same time longing torun, and feeling that this, in a way, exonerated me. 

At about seven o'clock on the evening of the second day, while I satby Mr. Stimcoe's bedside, there came a knock at the front door, and, looking out of the window--for Mrs. Stimcoe had gone to bully anothersedative out of the doctor, and there was no one in the house toadmit a visitor--I saw Captain Branscome below me on the doorstep. 

"Hallo!" said I, as cheerfully as I might, for Mr. Stimcoe was awakeand listening. 

"Is--is that Harry Brooks?" asked Captain Branscome, stepping backand feeling for his gold-rimmed glasses. But by some chance he wasnot wearing them. After fumbling for a moment, he gazed up towardsthe window, blinking. Folk who habitually wear glasses lookunnatural without them. Captain Branscome's face looked unnaturalsomehow. It was pale, and for the moment it seemed to me to bealmost a face of fright; but a moment later I set down its pallor toweariness. 

"Mrs. Stimcoe has gone off to the doctor, " said I, "and Mr. Stimcoeis sick, and I am up here nursing him. There is no one to open, butyou can give me a message. "

"I just came up to make sure you were all right. "

"If you mean Stim--Mr. Stimcoe, he's better, though the doctor sayshe won't be able to leave his bed for days. How did you come to hearabout it?"

"I've heard nothing about Mr. Stimcoe, " answered Captain Branscome, after a hesitating pause. "I've been away--on a holiday. Nothingwrong with you at all?" he asked. 

I could not understand Captain Branscome. Why on earth should he betroubling himself about my state of health?

"Nothing happened to upset you?" he asked. 

I looked down at him sharply. As a matter of fact, and as the readerknows, a great deal had happened to upset me, but that any hint of itshould have reached Captain Branscome was in the highest degreeunlikely, and in any case I could not discuss it with him from anupstairs window and in my patient's hearing. So I contented myselfwith asking him where he had spent his holiday. 

The question appeared to confuse him. He averted his eyes and, gazing out over the harbour, muttered--or seemed to mutter, for Icould not catch the answer distinctly--that he had been visiting somefriends; and so for a moment or two we waited at a deadlock. Indeed, there is no knowing how long it might have lasted--for CaptainBranscome made no sign of turning again and facing me--but, happeningjust then to glance along the terrace, I caught sight of Mrs. Stimcoereturning with long, masculine strides. 

She held an open letter in her hand, and was perusing it as she came. 

"It's for you, " she announced, coming to a standstill under thewindow and speaking up to me after a curt nod towards CaptainBranscome--"from Miss Plinlimmon; and you'd best come down and hearwhat it says, for it's serious. "

I should here explain that Mr. And Mrs. Stimcoe made a practice ofreading all letters received or despatched by us. It was a part ofthe system. 

"I picked it up at the post-office on my way, " she explained, as Ipresented myself at the front door and put out a hand for the letter. "Look here, Harry: I know you to be a brave boy. You must pullyourself together, and be as brave as ever you can. Your father--"

"What about my father?" I asked, taking the letter and staring intoher face. "Has anything happened? is he--is he dead?"

Mrs. Stimcoe lifted her hand and lowered it again, at the same momentbowing her head with a meaning I could not mistake. I gazed dizzilyat Captain Branscome, and the look on his face told me--I cannot tellyou how--that he knew what the letter had to tell, and had beenexpecting it. The handwriting was indeed Miss Plinlimmon's, althoughit ran across the paper in an agitated scrawl most unlike her usualneat Italian penmanship. 

 "My dearest Harry, "You must come home to me at once, and by the first coach. I cannot tell you what has happened save this--that you must not look to see your father alive. We dwell in the midst of alarms which A. Selkirk preferred to the solitude of Juan Fernandez; but in this I differ from him totally, and so will you when you hear what we have gone through. Come at once, Harry, with the bravest heart you can summon, Such is the earnest prayer of:"

 "Your sincere friend in affliction, " "Amelia Plinlimmon. "

 "P. S. --Pray ask Mrs. Stimcoe to be kind enough to advance the fare if your pocket-money will not suffice. "

"And I doubt if there's two shillings in the house!" commented Mrs. Stimcoe, candid for once, "and God knows what I can pawn!"

Captain Branscome plunged his hand into his pocket and drew out aguinea. Captain Branscome--who, to the knowledge of both of us, never had a shilling in his pocket--stood there nervously profferingme a guinea!

CHAPTER XI. 

THE CRIME IN THE SUMMER-HOUSE. 

Mrs. Stimcoe, having begged Captain Branscome to take watch for awhile over the invalid, and having helped me to pack a few clothes ina handbag, herself accompanied me to the coach-office, where we foundthe Royal Mail on the point of starting. The outside passengers, four in number, had already taken their seats--two on the box besidethe coachman, and two on the seat immediately behind; and by thelight of the lamp overhanging the entry I perceived that their headswere together in close conversation, in which the coachman himselffrom time to time took a share, slewing round to listen or interjecta word and anon breaking off to direct the stowage of a parcel orcall an order to the stable-boys. Mrs. Stimcoe had stepped into theoffice to book my place, and while I waited for her, watching thepreparations for departure, my curiosity led me forward to take alook at the horses. There, under the lamp, the coachman caught sightof me. 

"Whe-ew!" I heard him whistle. "Here's the boy himself! Going alongwi' us, sonny?" he asked, looking down on me and speaking down in avoice which seemed to me unnaturally gentle--for I remembered him asa gruff fellow and irascible. The outside passengers at once brokeoff their talk to lean over and take stock of me; and this againstruck me as queer. 

"Jim!" called the coachman (Jim was the guard). "Jim!"

"Ay, ay!" answered Jim, from the back of the roof, where he wasarranging the mail-bags. 

"Here's an outside extry. " He lowered his voice, so that I caughtonly these words: "The youngster . . . Minden Cottage . . . I reckoned they'd be sending--"

"Hey?"

Jim the guard bent over for a look at me, and scrambled down by thesteps of his dickey, just as Mrs. Stimcoe emerged from the office. She was pale and agitated, and stood for a moment gazing about herdistractedly, when Jim blundered against her, whereat she put out ahand and spoke to him. I saw Jim fall back a step and touch his hat. He was listening, with a very serious face. I could not hear whatshe said. 

"Cert'nly, ma'm', " he answered. "Cert'nly, under the circumstances, you may depend on me. "

He mounted the coach again, and, climbing forward whispered in theback of the coachman's ear. The passengers bent their heads tolisten. They nodded; the coachman nodded too, and stretched down ahand. 

"Can you climb, sonny, or shall we fetch the steps for you?There, I reckoned you was more of a man than to need 'em!"

Mrs. Stimcoe detained me for a moment to fold me in a masculine hug. But her bosom might have been encased in an iron corselet for all thetenderness it conveyed. "God bless you, Harry Brooks, and try to bea man!" Her embrace relaxed, and with a dry-sounding sob she let mego as I caught the coachman's hand and was swung up to my seat; andwith that we were off and up the cobble-paved street at a rattle. 

I do not know the names of my fellow-passengers. Now and then onewould bend forward and whisper to his neighbour, who answered with agrunt or a motion of his head; but for the most part, and for mileafter mile, we all sat silent, listening only to the horses' gallop, the chime of the swingle-bars, the hum of the night wind in our ears. The motion and the strong breeze together lulled me little by littleinto a doze. My neighbour on the right wore around his shoulders awoollen shawl, against which after a while I found my cheek resting, and begged his pardon. He entreated me not to mention it, but tomake myself comfortable; and thereupon I must have fallen fastasleep. I awoke as the coach came to a standstill. Were we pullingup to change teams? No; we were on the dark high-road, betweenhedges. Straight ahead of us blazed two carriage-lamps; and a man'svoice was hailing. I recognized the voice at once. It belonged to aMr. Jack Rogers, a rory-tory young squire and justice of the peace ofour neighbourhood, and the lamps must be those of his famous lighttilbury. 

"Hallo!" he was shouting. "Royal Mail, ahoy!"

"Royal Mail it is!" shouted back the coachman and Jim the guardtogether. 

"Got the boy Brooks aboard?"

"Ay, ay Mr. Rogers! D'ye want him?"

"No; you'll take him along quicker. My mare's fagged, and I drovealong in case the letter missed fire. " He came forward at a foot'space, and pulled up under the light of our lamps. "Hallo! is thatyou, Harry Brooks?" He peered up at me out of the night. 

"Yes, sir, " I answered, my teeth chattering between apprehension andthe chill of the night. I longed desperately to ask what hadhappened at home, but the words would not come. 

"Right you are, my lad; and the first thing when you get home, tellMiss Plinlimmon from me to fill you up with vittles and a glass ofhot brandy-and-water. Give her that message, with Jack Rogers'scompliments, and tell her that I'm on the road making inquiries, andmay get so far as Truro. By the way"--he turned to Jim the guard--"you haven't met anything that looked suspicious, eh?"

"Nothing on the road at all, " answered Jim. 

"Well, so-long! Mustn't delay his Majesty's mails or waste time of myown. Good night, Harry Brooks, and remember to give my message!Good night, gentlemen all!"

He flicked at his mare. Our coachman gathered up his reins, and awaywe went once more at a gallop towards the dawn. The dawn lay coldabout Minden Cottage as we came in sight of it; and at first, notingthat all the blinds were drawn, I thought the household must beasleep. Then I remembered, and shivered as I rose from my seat, cramped and stiff from the long journey, and so numb that Jim theguard had to lift me down to the porch. Miss Plinlimmon, red-eyedand tremulous, opened the door to me, embraced me, and led me to thelittle parlour. 

"Is--is my father dead?" I asked, staring vacantly around the room, and upon the table where she had set out a breakfast. She bent overthe urn for a moment, and then, coming to me, took my hand and drewme to the sofa. 

"You must be brave, Harry. "

"But what has happened? And how did it happen? Was--was it sudden?Please tell me, Plinny!"

She stroked my hand and shivered slightly, turning her face awaytowards the window. 

"We found him in the summer-house, dear. He was lying face downward, across the step of the doorway, and at first we supposed he hadfallen forward in a fit. Ann made the discovery, and came running tome in the kitchen, when she had only time to cry out the news beforeshe was overtaken with hysterics. I left her to them, " went on MissPlinlimmon, simply, "and ran out to the summer-house, when by-and-by, having pulled herself together, she followed me. By this time it hadfallen dusk--nay, it was almost dark, which accounts for one notseeing at once what dreadful thing had happened. Your poor father, Harry--as you know--used often to sit in the summer-house until quitea late hour, but he had never before dallied quite so late, and inthe end I had sent Ann out to remind him that supper was waiting. Well, as you may suppose, he was heavy to lift; and we two womenbeing alone in the house, I told Ann to run up to the vicarage or toMiss Belcher's, and get word sent for a doctor, and also to bring acouple of men, if possible, to carry him into the house. I hadscarcely bidden her to do this when she cried out, screaming, thather hand was damp, and with blood. 'You silly woman!' said I, thoughtrembling myself from head to foot. But when we fetched a candle, wesaw blood running down the step, and your father--my poor Harry!--lying in a pool of it--a veritable pool of it. Ah, Harry, Harry!"exclaimed Miss Plinlimmon, relapsing into that literary manner whichwas second nature with her, "such a moment occurring in the pages offiction, may stimulate a sympathetic thrill not entirely disagreeableto the reader, but in real life I wouldn't go through it again if youoffered me a fortune. "

"Plinny, " I cried--"Plinny, what is this you are telling me aboutblood?"

"Your poor father, Harry--But be sure their sins will find them out!Mr. Rogers is setting the runners on track--he is most kind. Already he has had two hundred handbills printed. We are offering ahundred pounds reward--more if necessary--and the whole country isup--"

"Plinny dear"--I tried to steady my voice as I stood and faced her--"are you trying to tell me that--that my father has been murdered?"

She bowed her head and cast her apron over it, sobbing. 

"Excuse me, Harry--but in such moments!--And they have found thecashbox. It had been battered open, presumably by a stone, and flunginto the brook a hundred yards below Miss Belcher's lodge-gate. "

"The cashbox?" My brain whirled. 

"The key was in your father's pocket. He had fetched the box fromhis room, it appears, about two hours before, and carried it out tothe summer-house. I cannot tell you with what purpose he carried itout there, but it was quite contrary to his routine. "

She poured out a cup of tea, and passed it to me with shaking hands. She pressed me to eat, and all the time she kept talking, sometimeslucidly, sometimes quite incoherently; and I listened in a kind ofdream. My father had been well-nigh a stranger to me, and I divinedthat I should never sorrow for his loss as those sorrow who havegenuinely loved. But his death, and the manner of it, shocked medreadfully, and from the shock my brain kept harking away to CaptainCoffin and his pursuer. Could they have reached Minden Cottage?And, if so, had their visit any connection with this crime?Captain Danny had started for Minden Cottage. . . . Had he arrived?And, if so--

I heard Miss Plinlimmon asking: "Would you care to see him--that is, dear, if you feel strong enough? His expression is wonderfullytranquil. "

She led me upstairs and opened the door for me. A sheet covered myfather from feet to chin, and above it his head lay back on thepillow, his features, clear-cut and aquiline, keeping that massiverepose which, though it might seem to be deeper now in the shade ofthe darkened room, had always cowed me while he lived. It seemed tome that my father's death, though I ought to feel it more keenly, made strangely little difference to _him_. 

"You will need sleep, " said Plinny, who had been waiting for me onthe landing. 

I told her that she might get my bed ready, but I would first take aturn in the garden. I tiptoed downstairs. The floor of thesummer-house had been washed. The vane on its conical roof sparkledin the sunlight. I stood before it, attempting to picture thetragedy of which, here in the clear morning, it told nothing to helpme. My thoughts were still running on Captain Coffin and the Frenchprisoner. Plinny--for I had questioned her cautiously--plainly knewnothing of any such man. They might, however, have entered by theside-gate. I stepped back under the apple-tree by the flagstaff, measuring with my eye the distance between this side-gate and thesummer-house. As I did so, my foot struck against something in thetall grass under the tree, and I stooped and picked it up--a pair ofgold-rimmed eyeglasses!

CHAPTER XII. 

THE BLOODSTAIN ON THE STILE. 

My father, in erecting a flagstaff before his summer-house, hadchosen to plant it on a granite millstone, or rather, had sunk itsbase through the stone's central hole, which Miss Plinlimmonregularly filled with salt to keep the wood from rotting. Upon thismossed and weather-worn bench I sat myself down to examine my find. 

Yet it needed no examination to tell me that the eyeglasses wereCaptain Branscome's. I recognized the delicate cable pattern oftheir gold rims, glinting in the sunlight. I recognized the ring andthe frayed scrap of black ribbon attached to it. I remembered theguinea with which Captain Branscome had paid my fare on the coach. I remembered Miss Plinlimmon's account of the stolen cashbox. 

The more my suspicions grew, the more they were incredible. That Captain Branscome, of all men in the world, should be guilty ofsuch a crime! And yet, with this damning evidence in my hand, Icould not but recall a dozen trifles--mere straws, to be sure--allpointing towards him. He had been here in my father's garden: that Imight take as proven. With what object? And if that object were aninnocent one, why had he not told me of his intention to visit MindenCottage? I remembered how straitly he had cross-examined me, a whileago, on the topography of the cottage, on my father's household andhis habits. Again, if his visit had been an innocent one, why, lastevening, had he said nothing of it? Why, when I questioned him abouthis holiday, had he answered me so confusedly? Yet again, I recalledhis demeanour when Mrs. Stimcoe handed me the letter, and theimpression it gave me--so puzzling at the moment--that he hadforeknowledge of the news. If this incredible thing were true--ifCaptain Branscome were the criminal--the puzzle ceased to be apuzzle; the guinea and the broken cashbox were only too fatallyaccounted for. 

Nevertheless, and in spite of the guinea, in spite even of theeyeglass there in my hand, I could not bring myself to believe. What? Captain Branscome, the simple-minded, the heroic? CaptainBranscome, of the threadbare coat and the sword of honour? Poor hewas, no doubt--bitterly poor--poor almost to starvation at times. To what might not a man be driven by poverty in this degree?And here was evidence for judge and jury. 

I glanced around me, and, folding the eyeglasses together in afumbling haste, slipped them into my breeches-pocket. From my seatbeneath the flagstaff I looked straight into the doorway of thesummer-house; but a creeper obscured its rustic window, dimming thelight within; and a terror seized me that some one was concealedthere, watching me--a terror not unlike that which had held me inCaptain Coffin's lodgings. 

While I stood there, summoning up courage to invade the summer-houseand make sure, my brain harked back to Captain Coffin and the manAaron Glass. Captain Coffin had taken leave of me in a fever toreach Minden Cottage. That was close on sixty hours ago--threenights and two days. Why, in that ample time, had he not arrived, and what had become of him? Plinny had seen no such man. 

I fetched a tight grip on my courage, walked across to the doorway, and peered into the summer-house. It was empty, and I steppedinside--superstitiously avoiding, as I did so, to tread on the spotwhere my father's body had lain. 

Ann the cook--so Plinny told me--had found his chair overset behindhim, but no other sign of a struggle. He had been stabbed in front, high on the left breast and a little below the collar-bone, and musthave toppled forward at once across the step, and died where he fell. The chair had been righted and set in place, perhaps by Ann when shewashed down the step. A well-defined line across the floor showedwhere the cleaning had begun, and behind it the scanty furniture ofthe place had not been disturbed. At the back, in one corner stoodan old drum, with dust and droppings of leaf-mould in the wrinkles ofits sagged parchment, and dust upon the drumsticks thrust within itsfrayed strapping; in the corner opposite an old military chest whichheld the bunting for the flagstaff--a Union flag, a couple ofensigns, and half a dozen odd square-signals and pennants. I stoopedover this, and as I did so I observed that there were finger-marks onthe dust at the edge of the lid; but, lifting it, found the flagsinside neatly rolled and stowed in order. On the table lay myfather's Bible and his pocket Virgil, the latter open and laid facedownwards. I picked it up, and the next moment came near to droppingit again with a shiver, for a dry smear of blood crossed the twopages. 

Here, not to complicate mysteries, let me tell at once what Ann toldme later--that she had found the book lying in the blood-dabbledgrass before the step, when it must have fallen from my father'shand, and had replaced it upon the table. But for the moment, surmising another clue, I stared at the page--a page of the seventh"Aeneid"--and at the stain which, as if to underline them, startedbeneath the words--

 "Hic domus, haec patria est. Genitor mihi talia namque (Nunc repeto) Anchises fatorum arcana reliquit. "

I set down the book as I had found it, stepped forth again into thesunshine. The scouring of the step had left a moist puddle below it, where the ground, no doubt, had been dry and hard on the evening ofthe murder. At the edge of this puddle the turf twinkled with cleandew--close, well-trimmed turf sloping gently to the stream whichformed the real boundary of the garden; but Miss Belcher, theneighbouring land-owner, a person of great wealth and the mosteccentric good-nature, had allowed my father to build a wall on thefar side, for privacy, and had granted him an entrance through it toher park--a narrow wooden door to which a miniature bridge gaveaccess across the stream. 

There were thus three ways of approaching the summer-house; (1) bythe path which wound through the garden from the house, (2) acrossthe turf from the side-gate, which opened out of a lane, orwoodcutters' road, running at right angles from the turnpike andalongside the garden fence towards the park; and (3) from the parkitself, across the little bridge. From the bridge a straight line tothe summer-house would lie behind the angle of sight of any oneseated within; so that a visitor, stepping with caution, mightpresent himself at the doorway without any warning. 

You may say that, my father being blind, it need not have enteredinto my calculations whether his assailant had approached in fullview of the doorway or from the rear. But the assailant--let ussuppose for a moment--was some one ignorant of my father's blindness. This granted, as it was at least possible, he would be likeliest tosteal upon the summer-house from the rear. I cannot say more thanthat, standing there by the doorway, I felt the approach from thestreamside to be most dangerous, and therefore the likeliest. 

In a few minutes, as I well knew, Plinny would be coming in search ofme, to persuade me back to the house to breakfast and bed. I steppeddown to the streamside, where the beehives stood in a row on thebrink, paused for a moment to listen to the hum within them, and notethat the bees were making ready to swarm, crossed the bridge, andtried the rusty hasp of the door. It yielded stiffly; but as Ipulled the door inwards it brushed aside a mass of spider's web, white and matted, that could not be less than a month old. Also itbrushed a clump of ivy overgrowing the lintel, and shook down abouthalf an ounce of powdery dust into my hair and eyes. I scarcelytroubled to look through. Clearly, the door had not been opened formany weeks--possibly not since my last holidays. 

I recrossed the bridge and inspected the side-gate. This opened, asI have said, upon a lane never used but by the woodmen on MissBelcher's estate, and by them very seldom. It entered the park by astone bridge across the stream and by a ruinous gate, the gaps ofwhich had been patched with furze faggots. The roadway itself wascarpeted with last year's leaves from a coppice across the lane--leaves which the winter's rains had beaten into a black compost; andalmost facing the side-gate was a stile whence a tangled footpath ledinto the coppice. 

I had stepped out into the lane, and was staring over the stile intothe green gloom of the coppice, when I heard Plinny's voice callingto me from the house, and I had half turned to hail in answer when myeyes fell on the upper bar of the stile. 

Across the edge of it ran a dark brown smear--a smear which Irecognized for dried blood. 

"Harry! Harry dear!"

"Plinny!" I raced back through the garden, and almost fell into herarms as she came along the path between the currant-bushes in searchof me. "Plinny--oh, Plinny!" I gasped. 

"My dear child, what has happened?"

Before I could answer there came wafted to our ears from eastward asound of distant shouting, and almost simultaneously, from thehigh-road near at hand, the trit-trot of hoofs approaching at greatspeed from westward, and the "Who-oop!" of a man's voice, lusty onthe morning air. 

"That will be Mr. Jack Rogers, " said Plinny. "He brings us news, forcertain! Yes; he is reining up. "

We ran through the house together, and reached the front door in timeto witness a most extraordinary scene. 

Mr. Jack Rogers's tilbury had run past the house and come to a halt ashort gunshot beyond, where it stood driverless--for Mr. Jack Rogershad dismounted, and was gesticulating with both arms to stop a manracing down the road to meet him. A moment later, as this runnercame on, a second hove in sight over the rise of the road behindhim--a short figure, so stout and round that in the distance itresembled not so much a man as a ball rolling in pursuit. 

"Hi! Stop, you there!" shouted Mr. Rogers; but the first runnermight have been deaf, for all the attention he paid. 

"Good Lord!" said I, catching my breath; "it's Mr. GeorgeGoodfellow!"

"In the King's name!" Mr. Rogers shouted, making a dash to intercepthim. And a moment later the two had collided, and were rolling inthe dust together. 

I ran towards them, with Plinny--brave soul!--at my heels, andarrived to find Mr. Rogers, hatless and exceedingly dishevelled, kneeling with both hands around the neck of his prostrate antagonist, and holding his face down in the dust. 

"You'd best stand up and come along quietly, " Mr. Rogers adjuredhim. 

"Gug-gug--how the devil c-can I stand up if you won't lul-lul-letme?" protested Mr. Goodfellow, reasonably enough. 

"Very well, then. " Mr. Rogers relaxed his grip. "Stand up!But you're my prisoner, so let's have no more nonsense!"

"I'd like to know what's taken ye to pitch into a man like this?"demanded Mr. Goodfellow in a tone of great umbrage, as he shook thedust out of his coat and hair. "A fellow I never seen before, not tomy knowledge! Why--hallo!" said he, looking up and catching sight ofme. 

"Hallo!" said I. 

"Hallo!" said Mr. Rogers, in his turn. "Do you two know each other?"

"Why, of course we do!" said Mr. Goodfellow. 

"I don't know where 'of course' comes in. " Mr. Rogers eyed him withstern suspicion. "Why were you running away from the constable?"

Mr. Goodfellow glanced towards the stout, round man, who by this timehad drawn near, mopping, as he came, a face as red as the redwaistcoat he wore. 

"Him a constable? Why, I took him for a loonatic! They put theloonatics into them coloured weskits, don't they?"

"Nothing of the sort. You're thinking of the warders, " Mr. Rogersanswered. 

"Oh? Then I made a mistake, " said Mr. Goodfellow, cheerfully. 

"Look here, my friend, if you're thinking to play this off as a jokeyou'll find it no joking matter. Madam"--he turned to MissPlinlimmon--"is this the man who called at the cottage two days ago. "

"Yes, " answered Plinny; "and once before, as I remember. "

"And on each occasion did you observe something strange in hismanner?"

"Very strange indeed. He kept asking questions about the house andgarden, and the position of the rooms and about poor Major Brooks, and what rent he paid, and if he was well-to-do. And he took out ameasure from his pocket and began to calculate--"

"Quite so. " Mr. Rogers turned next to the constable. "Hosken, " heasked, "you have been making inquiries about this man?"

"I have, sir; all along the road, so far as Torpoint Ferry. "

"And you learnt enough to justify you in arresting him?"

"Ample, y'r worship. There wasn't a public-house along the road butthought his behaviour highly peculiar. He's a well-known character, an' the questions he asks you would be surprised. He plies betweenFalmouth and Plymouth, sir, once a week regular. So, actin' oninformation that he might be expected along early this morning, Iconcealed myself in the hedge, sir, the best part of two milesback--"

"You didn't, " interrupted Mr. Goodfellow. "I saw your red stomachbetween the bushes thirty yards before ever I came to it, andwondered what mischief you was up to. I'm wondering still. "

"At any rate, you are detained, sir, upon suspicion, " said Mr. Rogerssharply, "and will come with us to the cottage and submit to besearched. "

"Brooks, " asked Mr. Goodfellow feebly, "what's wrong with 'em?And what are you doing here?"

"Mr. Rogers, " I broke in, "I know this man. His name is Goodfellow;he lives at Falmouth; and you are wrong, quite wrong, in suspectinghim. But what is more, Mr. Rogers, you are wasting time. There's blood on the stile down the lane. Whoever broke into thegarden must have escaped that way--by the path through theplantation--"

"Eh?" Mr. Rogers jumped at me and caught me by the arm. "Why thedevil--you'll excuse me, Miss Plinlimmon--but why on earth, child, ifyou have news, couldn't you have told it at once? Blood on thestile, you say? What stile?"

"The stile down the lane, sir, " I answered, pointing. "And Icouldn't tell you before because you didn't give me time. "

"Show us the way, quick! And you, Hosken, catch hold of the mare andlead her round to Miss Belcher's stables. Or, stay--she's dead beat. You can help me slip her out of the shafts and tether her by the gateyonder. That's right, man; but don't tie her up too tight. Give herroom to bite a bit of grass, and she'll wait here quiet as a lamb. "

"What about the prisoner, sir?" asked the stolid Hosken. 

"D--n the prisoner!" answered Mr. Rogers, testily, in the act ofunharnessing. "Slip the handcuffs on him. And you, Miss Plinlimmon, will return to the cottage, if you please. "

"I'd like to come, too, if I may, " put in Mr. Goodfellow. 

"Eh?" Mr. Rogers, in the act of rolling up one of the traces, staredat him with frank admiration. "Well, you're a sportsman, anyhow. Catch hold of his arm, Hosken, and run him along with us. Yes, sir, though I say it as a justice of the peace, be d--d to you, but I likeyour spirit. And with the gallows staring you in the face, too!"

"Gallows? What gallows?" panted Mr. Goodfellow in my ear a fewmoments later, as we tore in a body down the lane. "Hush!" I pantedin answer. "It's all a mistake. "

"It ought to be. " We drew up by the stile, where I pointed to thesmear of blood, and Mr. Rogers, calling to Hosken to follow him, dashed into the coppice and down the path into the rank undergrowth. I, too, was lifting a leg to throw it over the bar, when Mr. Goodfellow plucked me by the arm. "Terribly hasty friends you keepin these parts, Brooks, " he said plaintively. "What's it all about?"

"Why, murder!" said I. "Haven't you heard, man?"

"Not a syllable! Good Lord, you don't mean--" He passed a shakyhand over his forehead as a cry rang back to us through the coppice. 

"Here, Hosken, this way! Oh, by the Almighty, be quick, man!"

I vaulted over the stile, Mr. Goodfellow close after me. For twohundred yards and more--three hundred, maybe--we blundered andcrashed through the low-growing hazels, and came suddenly to ahorrified stand. 

A little to the left of the path, between it and the stream, Mr. Rogers and the constable knelt together over the body of a man halfhidden in a tangle of brambles. 

The corpse's feet pointed towards the path, and I recognized theshoes, as also the sea-cloth trousers, before Mr. Rogers--cursing inhis hurry rather than at the pain of his lacerated hands--tore thebrambles aside and revealed its face--the face of Captain Coffin, blue-cold in death and staring up from its pillow of rotted leaves. 

I felt myself reeling. But it was Mr. Goodfellow who reeled againstme, and would have fallen if Hosken the constable had not sprung uponone knee and caught him. 

"If you ask my opinion, " I heard Hosken saying as he raised himselfand held Mr. Goodfellow upright, steadying him, "'tis a case o'guilty conscience, an' I never in my experience saw a clearer. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

CLUES IN A TANGLE. 

"Guilty or not, " said Mr. Jack Rogers, sharply, "I'll take care hedoesn't escape. Run you down to Miss Belcher's kennels, and fetchalong a couple of men--any one you can pick up--to help. And don'tmake a noise as you go past the cottage; the women there arefrightened enough already. Come to think of it, I heard some fellowsat work as I drove by just now, thinning timber in the plantationunder the kennels. Off with you, man, and don't stand gaping like astuck pig!"

Thus adjured, Constable Hosken ran, leaving us three to watch thebody. 

"The man's pockets have been rifled, that's plain enough, " Mr. Rogersmuttered, as he bent over it again, and with that I suppose I musthave made some kind of exclamation, for he looked up at me, stillwith a horrified frown. 

"Hallo! You know him?"

I nodded. 

"His name's Coffin. He came here from Falmouth. "

For a moment Mr. Rogers did not appear to catch the words. His eyestravelled from my face to Mr. Goodfellow's. 

"You, too?"

"Knew him intimate. Know him? Why, I live but two doors away fromhim in the same court. "

"Look here, " said Mr. Rogers, slowly, after a pause, "this is a blackbusiness, and a curst mysterious one, and I wasn't born with the giftof seeing daylight through a brick wall. But speaking as amagistrate, Mr. What's-your-name, I ought to warn you against sayingwhat may be used for evidence. As for you, lad, you'd best tell asmuch as you know. What d'ye say his name was?"

"Coffin, sir. "

"H'm, he's earned it. The back of his head's smashed all to pieces. Lived in Falmouth, you say? And you knew him there?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Then what was he doing in these parts?"

"He started to call on my father, sir. "

"Eh? You knew of his coming?"

"Yes, sir. We planned it together. "

Mr. Rogers, still on his knees, leaned back and regarded me fixedly. 

"You planned it together?" he repeated slowly. "Well, go on. He started to call on your father? Why?"

"He wanted to show my father something, " said I, with a glance at Mr. Goodfellow. "Are you sure, sir, there's nothing in his pockets?"

"Not a penny-piece. I'll search 'em again if you insist, though Idon't like the job. "

"He carried it in his breast-pocket, sir; there, on the left side. "

"Then your question's easy to answer. " Mr. Rogers turned back thelapel and pointed. The pocket hung inside out. "But what was it hecarried?"

I hesitated, with another glance towards Mr. Goodfellow, who at thesame moment uttered a cry and sprang for a thicket of bramblesdirectly behind Mr. Rogers's back. Mr. Rogers leapt up, with anoath. 

"No, you don't!" he threatened, preparing to spring in pursuit. 

But Mr. Goodfellow, not heeding him, plunged a hand among thebrambles and drew forth a walking-stick of ebony, carved in rings, ending with a ferrule in an iron spike--Captain Coffin'swalking-stick. 

"I glimpsed at it, there, lyin' like a snake, " he began, and let fallthe stick with another sudden, sharp cry. "Ur-rh! There's bloodupon it!"

Mr. Rogers picked it up and examined it loathingly. Blood therewas--blood mixed with grey hairs upon its heavy ebony knob, and bloodagain upon its wicked-looking spike. 

"This settles all question of the weapon, " he said. "The owner ofthis--"

We cried out, speaking together, that the stick belonged to themurdered man; and just then a voice hailed us, and Constable Hoskencame panting up, with two of Miss Belcher's woodmen at his heels. 

Mr. Rogers directed them to fetch a hurdle. Then came the questionwhither to carry the corpse, and after some discussion one of thewoodmen suggested that Miss Belcher's cricket pavilion lay handy, acouple of hundred yards beyond the rise of the park, across thestream. "At this time of year the lady wouldn't object--"

Mr. Rogers shuddered. 

"And the last time I saw the inside of it 'twas at Lydia'sCricket-Week Ball--and the place all flags and lanterns, and a goodthird of the men drunk! Well, carry him there if you must, but dammeif I'll ever find stomach to dance there again!"

The men lifted their burden and carried it out into the lane, wherethe rest of us pulled away the furze-bushes stopping he gate into thepark, and so followed the body up the green slope towards the rise, over which, as we climbed, the thatched roof of the pavilion slowlyhove into sight. 

"Hallo!" Mr. Rogers halted and stared at the bearers, who also hadhalted. "What the devil noise is that?"

The noise was that of a sudden blow or impact upon timber. After about thirty seconds it was repeated, and our senses told usthat it came from within the pavilion. 

"I reckon, sir, " suggested one of the woodmen, "'tis Miss Belcherpractising. "

"Good Lord! Come with us, Harry--the rest stay where you are, "Mr. Rogers commanded, and ran towards the pavilion; and as we startedI heard a whizzing and cracking within, as of machinery, followed bya double crack of timber. 

"Lydia! Lydia Belcher!"

"Hey! What's the matter now?" I heard Miss Belcher's voice demand, ashe burst in through the doorway. "Take care, the catapult's loaded!"A whiz, and again a crack. "There now! Oh, well fielded, indeed!Well fiel--Eh? Caught you on the ankle, did it? Well, and you'relucky it didn't find your skull, blundering in upon a body in thisfashion. "

The first sight that met me as I reached the doorway was Mr. JackRogers holding one foot and hopping around with a face of agony. From him my astonished gaze travelled to Miss Lydia Belcher, whom Imust pause to describe. 

I have hinted before that Miss Belcher was an eccentric; but Icertainly cannot have prepared the reader--as I was certainlyunprepared myself--for Miss Belcher as we surprised her. 

She wore top-boots, but this is a trifle, for she habitually woretop-boots. Upon them, and beneath the short skirt of a red flannelpetticoat, she had indued a pair of cricket-guards. Above the redflannel petticoat came, frank and unashamed, an ample pair of stays;above them, the front of a yet ampler chemise and a yellow bandannakerchief tied in a sailor's knot; above these, a middle-aged facefull of character and not without a touch of moustache on the upperlip; an aquiline nose, grey eyes that apologized to nobody, a broadbrow to balance a broad, square jaw, and, on the top of all, asquare-topped beaver hat. So stood Miss Belcher, with a cricket-batunder her arm; an Englishwoman, owner of one of England's "statelyhomes"; a lady amenable to few laws save of her own making, and to noman save--remotely--the King, whose health she drank sometimes inport and sometimes in gin-and-water. 

"Good morning, Jack! Sorry to cut you over with that off-drive; butyou shouldn't have come in without knocking. Eh? Is that HarryBrooks?" Her face grew grave for a moment before she turned upon Mr. Rogers that smile which, if usually latent and at the best notentirely feminine, was her least dubitable charm. "Now, upon myword. Jack, you have more thoughtfulness than ever I gave you creditfor. "

Mr. Rogers stared at her. 

"An hour's knockabout with me will do the child more good than mopingin the house, and I ought to have thought of it myself. Come along, Harry Brooks, and play me a match at single wicket. Help me pushaway the catapult there into the corner. Will you take firstinnings, or shall we toss?"

The catapult indicated by Miss Belcher was a formidable-lookingengine with an iron arm or rod terminating in a spoon-shaped socket, and worked by a contrivance of crank and chain. You placed yourcricket-ball in the socket, and then, having wound up the crank anddrawn a pin which released the machinery, had just time to run backand defend your wicket as the iron rod revolved and discharged theball with a jerk. The rod itself worked on a slide, and could beshortened or extended to vary the trajectory, and the exercise itentailed in one way and another had given Miss Belcher's cheeks afine healthy glow. 

"Whew!" she exclaimed, tucking the bat under her arm and wiping herforehead with a loose end of her yellow bandana. "I'm feelin' likethe lady in 'The Vicar of Wakefield'; by which I don't mean the onethat stooped to folly, but the one that was all of a muck of sweat. "

"My dear Lydia, " gasped Mr. Rogers, "we haven't come to play cricket!Put down your bat and listen to me. There's the devil to pay in thisparish of yours. To begin with, we've found another body--"

"Eh? Where?"

"In the plantation under the slope here--close beside the path, andabout two gunshots off the lane. "

"What have you done with it?"

"Two of your fellows are fetching it along. I was going to ask youas a favour to let it lie here for the time while we follow up thesearch. "

"Of course you may. But who is it?"

"An old man in sea clothes. Harry knows him; says he hails fromFalmouth, and that his name is Coffin. And we've arrested a youngfellow on suspicion, though I begin to think he hasn't much to dowith it; but, as it happens, he comes from Falmouth too, and knowsthe deceased. "

Miss Belcher hitched an old riding-skirt off a peg and indued it overher red flannel petticoat, fastening it about her waist with aleathern strap and buckle. 

"Well, the first thing is to fetch the body along, and then I'll godown with you and have a look. "

"I've halted the men about a hundred yards down the hill. I thoughtperhaps you'd step straight along with me to the house, so as to beout of the way when they--But, anyhow, if you insist on coming, wecan fetch across the cricket-field and down to the left, so that youneedn't meet it. "

"Bless the man!"--Miss Belcher had turned to another peg, taken downa loose weather-stained gardening-jacket, and was slipping an arminto the sleeve--"you don't suppose, do you, that I'm the sort ofperson to be scared by a dead body? Open the door, please, and leadthe way. This is a serious business, Jack, and I doubt if you havethe head for it. "

Sure enough, the sight of the dead body on the hurdle shook MissBelcher's nerve not at all, or, at any rate, not discernibly. 

"Humph!" she said. "Take him to the pavilion and cover him decently. You'll find a yard or two of clean awning in the left-hand corner ofthe scoring-box. " She eyed Mr. Goodfellow for a couple of secondsand swung round upon Mr. Rogers. "Is that the man you've arrested?"

Mr. Rogers nodded. 

"Fiddlestick-end!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Fiddlestick-end! Look at the man's face. And you call yourself ajustice of the peace?"

"It was thrust upon me, " said Mr. Rogers, modestly. "I don't sayhe's guilty, mind you; and, of course, if you say he isn't--"

"Look at his face!" repeated Miss Belcher; and, turning, addressedMr. Goodfellow. "My good man, you hadn't any hand in this--eh?"

"No, ma'am; in course I hadn't, " Mr. Goodfellow answered fervently. 

"There! You hear what he says?"

"Lydia, Lydia! I've the highest possible respect for your judgment;but isn't this what you might cull a trifle--er--summary?"

"It saves time, " said Miss Belcher. "And if you're going to catchthe real culprit, time is precious. Now take me to see the spot. "

But at this point Mr. Goodfellow's emotions overmastered him, and hebroke forth into the language of rhapsody. 

"O woman, woman!" exclaimed Mr. Goodfellow, "whatever would the worlddo without your wondrous instink!"

"Bless the man!"--Miss Belcher drew back a pace--"is he talking ofme?"

"No, ma'am; generally, or, as you might say, of the sex as a whole. Mind you, I won't go so far as to deny that the gentleman here--orthe constable, for that matter--had some excuse to be suspicious. But to think o' me liftin' a hand against poor old Danny Coffin!Why, ma'am, the times I've a-led him home from the public whenincapable is not to be numbered; and only at this very moment in mylittle shop, home in Falmouth, I've a corner cupboard of his underrepair that he wouldn't trust to another living soul! And alongcomes you an' say, 'That man's innocent! Look at his face!' yousays, which it's downright womanly instink, if ever there was such athing in this world. "

"A corner cupboard!" I gasped. "You have the corner cupboard?"

Mr. Goodfellow nodded. "I took it home unbeknowns to the old man. Many a time he'd spoken to me about repairin' it, the upper hingebein' cracked, as you may remember. But when it came to handin' itover I could never get him. So that afternoon, the coast bein' clearand him sitting drunk in the Plume o' Feathers, as again you willremember--"

But here Miss Belcher shot out a hand and gripped my collar to steadyme as I reeled. I dare say that hunger and lack of sleep had much todo with my giddiness; at any rate, the grassy slope had begun all ofa sudden to heave and whirl at my feet. 

"Drat the boy! _He's_ beginning now!"

"Take me home, " I implored her, stammering. "Please, Miss Belcher!"

"Now, I'll lay three to one, " said Miss Belcher, holding me off andregarding me, "that no one has thought of giving this child an honestbreakfast. And"--she turned on Mr. Jack Rogers--"you call yourself ajustice of the peace!"

CHAPTER XIV. 

HOW I BROKE OUT THE BED ENSIGN. 

We were seated in council in the little parlour of Minden Cottage--Miss Belcher, Miss Plinlimmon, Mr. Jack Rogers, Mr. Goodfellow, andI. Mr. Goodfellow had been included at Miss Belcher's particularrequest. Constable Hosken had been despatched to search theplantation thoroughly and to report. Two other constables hadarrived, and were coping, in front and rear of the cottage, with asteady if straggling incursion of visitors from the near villages andhamlets of St. Germans, Hessenford, Bake, and Catchfrench, drawn byreports of a second murder to come and stand and gaze at thepremises. The report among them (as I learned afterwards) ran that asecond body--alleged by some to be mine, by others to be Ann thecook's--had been discovered lying in its own blood in the attic; butthe marvel was how the report could have spread at all, since MissBelcher had sworn the two woodmen to secrecy. Whoever spread itcould have known very little, for the sightseers wasted all theircuriosity on the house and concerned themselves not at all with theplantation. 

From the plantation Miss Belcher had led me straight to the house, and there in the darkened parlour I had told my story, corroboratedhere and there by Mr. Goodfellow. In the intervals of my narrativeMiss Belcher insisted on my swallowing great spoonfuls of hotbread-and-milk, against which--faint though I was and famished--mygorge rose. Also the ordeal of gulping it under four pairs of eyeswas not a light one. But Miss Belcher insisted, and Miss Belcherstood no nonsense. 

I told them of my acquaintance with Captain Coffin; how he hadinvited me to his lodgings and promised me wealth; of his studyingnavigation, of his reference to the island and the treasure hidden onit, and of the one occasion when he vouchsafed me a glimpse of thechart; of the French prisoner, Aaron Glass, and how we escaped fromhim, and of the plan we arranged together at the old windmill; howCaptain Danny had taken boat to board the St. Mawes packet; how theman Glass had followed; how I had visited the lodgings, and of theconfusion I found there. I described the ex-prisoner's appearanceand clothing in detail, and here I had Mr. Goodfellow to confirm meunder cross-examination. 

"An' the cap'n, " said he, "was afraid of him. I give you my word, ladies and gentlemen, I never saw a man worse scared in my life. Put up his hands, he did, an' fairly screeched, an' bolted out o' thedoor with his arm linked in the lad's. "

Three or four times in the course of my narrative I happened tothrust my hands into my breeches-pocket, and was reminded of the goldeyeglass concealed there. I had managed very artfully to keepCaptain Branscome entirely out of the story, but twice underexamination I was forced to mention him--and each time, curiouslyenough, in answer to a question of Miss Belcher's. 

"You are sure this Captain Coffin showed the chart to no one butyourself?" she asked. 

"I am pretty sure, ma'am. "

"There was always a tale about Falmouth that Cap'n Danny had struck aburied treasure, " said Mr. Goodfellow. "'Twas a joke in the publics, and with the street boys; but I never heard tell till now that anyone took it serious. "

"He was learning navigation, " mused Miss Belcher. "What was the nameof his teacher?"

"A Captain Branscome, ma'am. He's a teacher at Stimcoe's. "

"Lives in the house, does he?"

"No, ma'am. "

"A _Captain_ Branscome, you say?"

"Yes, ma'am. He's a retired packet captain, and lame of one leg. Every one in Falmouth knows Captain Branscome. "

"H'm! Wouldn't this Captain Branscome wonder a little that a man ofyour friend's age, and (we'll say) a bit wrong in his head, shouldwant to learn navigation?"

"He might, ma'am. "

"He certainly would, " snapped Miss Belcher. "And wouldn't thisCaptain Branscome know it was perfectly useless to teach such a man?"

"I dare say he would, ma'am, " I answered, guiltily recalling CaptainBranscome's own words to me on this subject. 

"Then why did he take the man's money, eh? Well, go on with yourstory. "

I breathed more easily for a while, but by-and-by, when I came totell of the discussion by the old windmill, I felt her eyes upon meagain. 

"Wait a moment. Captain Coffin gave you a key, and this key was toopen the corner cupboard in his lodgings. Wasn't it rather foolishof him to send you, seeing that this Aaron Glass had seen you in hiscompany, and would recognize you if he were watching the premises, which was just what you both feared?"

"He didn't count on me to go, " I admitted; "at least, not firstalong. "

"On whom, then?"

"On Captain Branscome, ma'am. "

"Oh! Did he send you with that message to Captain Branscome?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

"Then why didn't you tell us so? Well, when you took the message, what did Captain Branscome say? And why didn't he go?"

"He was not at home, ma'am. Mr. Stimcoe had given us a holiday inhonour of the prisoners. "

"I see. So Captain Branscome was off on an outing? When did hereturn?"

"I didn't see him that evening, ma'am. "

"That's not an answer to my question. I asked, When did he return?"

"Not until yesterday afternoon. "

I had to think before giving this answer, so long a stretch of timeseemed to lie between me and yesterday afternoon. 

"Where had he been spending his holiday meanwhile?"

"He didn't tell me, ma'am. "

"At all events, he didn't turn up for school next day, nor the nextagain, until the afternoon. Queer sort of academy, Stimcoe's. Did Mr. Stimcoe make any remark on his under-teacher's absence?"

"No, ma'am. "

"The school went on just as usual?"

"No-o, ma'am "--I hesitated--"not quite just as usual. Mr. Stimcoewas unwell. "

"Drunk?"

"My dear Miss Belcher!" put in the scandalized Plinny. "A scholar, and such a gentleman!"

"Fiddlestick-end!" snapped the unconscionable lady, not removing hereyes from mine. "Was this man Stimcoe drunk, eh? No; I beg yourpardon, " she corrected herself. "I oughtn't to be asking a boy totell tales out of school. 'Thou shalt not say anything to get anotherfellow into trouble'--that's the first and last commandment--eh, Harry Brooks? But, my good soul"--she turned on Plinny--"if 'drunkand incapable' isn't written over the whole of that seminary, you maycall me a Dutchwoman!"

"There's a point or so clear enough, " she announced, after a pause, when I had finished my story. 

"We must placard the whole country with a description of thatprisoner chap Glass, " said Mr. Jack Rogers; "and I'd best be off toFalmouth and get the bills printed at once. "

"Indeed?" said Miss Belcher, dryly. "And pray how are you proposingto describe him?"

"Why, as for that, I should have thought Harry's description here, backed up by Mr. Goodfellow's, was enough to lay a trail upon anyman. My dear Lydia, a fellow roaming the country in a red coat, drill trousers, and a japanned hat!"

"It would obviously excite remark: so obviously that the likelihoodmight even occur to the man himself. "

Mr. Rogers looked crestfallen for a moment. 

"You suggest that by this time he has changed his rig?"

"I suggest, rather, that he started by changing it, say, as far backas St. Mawes. Some one must ride to St. Mawes at once and makeinquiries. " Miss Belcher drummed her fingers on the table. "But the man, " she said thoughtfully, "will have reached Plymouthlong before this. "

"You don't think it possible he went back the same way he came?"

"In a world, Jack, where you find yourself a magistrate, all thingsare possible. But I don't think it at all likely. "

"It's a rum story altogether, " mused Mr. Rogers. "A couple ofmurders in this part of the world, and mixed up with an island fullof treasure! Why, damme, 'tis almost like Shakespeare!"

"For my part, " observed Miss Plinlimmon, with great simplicity, "though sometimes accused of leaning unduly toward the romantic, Ishould be inclined to set down this story of Captain Coffin's tohallucination, or even to stigmatize it as what I believe is calledin nautical parlance 'a yarn. '"

"And small blame to you, my dear!" agreed Miss Belcher; "only, yousee, when folks go about killing one another, the hallucinationbegins to look disastrously as if there were something in it. "

"Yet I still fail to see, " urged Plinny, "why our dear Major shouldhave fallen a victim. "

"It's plain as a pikestaff, if you'll excuse me, " Mr. Rogers answeredher. "This Coffin carried the chart on him, meaning to deliver itinto the Major's keeping. He came here, entered the garden by theside-gate, found the Major in the summer-house, told his story, handed over the chart, and was making his way back to the high-roadthrough the plantation, when he came full on this man Aaron Glass, who had tracked him all the way from St. Mawes. Glass fell on him, murdered him, rifled his pockets, and, finding nothing--but havingsome hint, perhaps--pursued his way to the garden here. There in thesummer-house he found the Major, who meanwhile had fetched hiscashbox from the house and locked the chart up in it. What followed, any one can guess. "

"Not a bad theory, Jack!" murmured Miss Belcher, still drummingsoftly on the table. "Indeed, 'tis the only explanation, but for oneor two things against it. "

"For instance?"

"For instance, I don't see why the Major should want to go to thehouse and bring back his cashbox to the garden. Surely the simplething was to take the paper, or whatever it was, straight to thehouse, lock it up, and leave the cashbox in its usual place? I don'tsee, either, what that box was doing, later on, in the brook below mylodge-gate; for, by every chance that I can reckon, the murderer--supposing him to be this man Glass--would have pushed on in haste forPlymouth, whereas my lodge-gate lies half a mile in the oppositedirection. "

"Are those all your objections?" asked Mr. Rogers. "Because, if so, I must say they don't amount to much. "

"They don't amount to much, " Miss Belcher agreed, "but they don't, onthe other hand, quite cover all my doubts. However, there's lessdoubt, luckily, about the next step to be taken. You send Hosken orsome one to Torpoint Ferry to inquire what strangers have crossed forPlymouth during these forty-eight hours. You meanwhile borrow myroan filly--your own mare is dead-beat--clap her in the tilbury, andoff you go to St. Mawes, and find out how this man Glass got hold ofa change of clothes. Take Mr. Goodfellow with you, and while you areplaying detective at St. Mawes, he can cross over to Falmouth andfetch along the corner cupboard. Harry has the key, and we'll openit here and read what the captain has to say in this famous roll ofpaper. It won't do more than tantalize us, I very much fear, seeingthat the chart has disappeared, and likely enough for ever. "

But it had not. 

It so happened that while I stood by my father's bedside that morningI had noticed a flag, rolled in a bundle and laid upon the chest ofdrawers beside his dressing-table. I concluded at once that Plinnyhad fetched it from the summer-house to spread over his coffin. 

Women know nothing about flags. This one was a red ensign, in thosedays a purely naval flag, carried (since Trafalgar) by the highestrank of admirals. Ashore, any one could hoist it, but the flag tocover a soldier's body was the flag of Union. 

This had crossed my mind when I caught sight of the red ensign on thechest of drawers; and again in the summer-house, as I lifted the lidof the flag-locker and noted the finger-marks in the dust upon it, Iguessed that Plinny had visited it with pious purpose, and, woman-like, chosen the first flag handy. I had meant to repair hermistake, and again had forgotten my intention. 

Mr. Jack Rogers had driven off for St. Mawes, with Mr. Goodfellow inthe tilbury beside him. Constable Hosken was on his way to Torpoint. Miss Belcher had withdrawn to her great house, after insisting that Imust be fed once more and packed straight off to bed; and fed I dulywas, and tucked between sheets, to sleep, exhausted, very nearly theround of the clock. 

Footsteps awoke me--footsteps on the landing outside my bedroom. I sat up, guessing at once that they were the footsteps of thecarpenter and his men, arrived in the dawn with the shell of myfather's coffin. Almost at once I remembered the red ensign, and, waiting until the footsteps withdrew, stole across, half dressed, tomy father's room to change it. The faint rays of dawn drifted inthrough the closed blinds. The coffin-shell lay the length of thebed, and in it his body. The carpenter's men had left it uncovered. In the dim light, no doubt, they had overlooked the flag, which Ifelt for and found. Tucking it under my arm, I closed the door andtiptoed downstairs, let myself out at the back, and stole out to thesummer-house. 

There was light enough within to help me in selecting the Union flagfrom the half-dozen within the locker. I was about to stow the redensign in its place when I bethought me that, day being so near, Imight as well bend a flag upon the flagstaff halliards and half-mastit. 

So, with the Union flag under one arm, I carried out the red ensign, bent it carefully, still in a roll, and hoisted it to the truck. In half-masting a flag, you first hoist it in a bundle to themasthead, break it out there, and thence lower it to the position atwhich you make fast. 

I felt the flag's toggle jam chock-a-block against the truck of thestaff, and gave a tug, shaking out the flag to the still morningbreeze. A second later something thudded on the turf close at myfeet. 

I stared at it; but the halliards were in my hand, and before pickingit up I must wait and make them fast on the cleat. Still I stared atit, there where it lay on the dim turf. 

And still I stared at it. Either I was dreaming yet, or this--thisthing that had fallen from heaven--was the oilskin bag that hadwrapped Captain Coffin's chart. 

I stooped to pick it up. At that instant the side-gate rattled, andwith a start I faced, in the half light--Captain Branscome. 

CHAPTER XV. 

CAPTAIN BRANSCOME'S CONFESSION--THE MAN IN THE LANE. 

He opened the gate and came across the turf to me. I observed thathis hand trembled on his walking-cane, and that he dragged hisinjured leg with a worse limp than usual; also--but the uncertainlight may have had something to do with this--his face seemed of onecolour with the grey dust that powdered his shoes. 

"Good morning, Harry!"

"Good morning, sir, " I answered, crushing the oilskin into my pocketand waiting for his explanation. 

"You are surprised to see me? The fact is, I have something to tellyou, and could not rest easy till it was off my mind. I havetravelled here by Russell's waggon, [1] but have trudged a good partof the way, as you see. " He glanced down at his shoes. "The pacewas too slow for my impatience. I could get no sleep. Though itbrought me here no faster, I had to vent my energies in walking. "His sentences followed one another by jerks, in a nervous flurry. "You are surprised to see me?" he repeated. 

"Why, as to that, sir, partly I am and partly I am not. It took meaback just now to see you standing there by the gate; and, " said Imore boldly, "it puzzles me yet how you came there and not to thefront door, for you couldn't have expected to find me here in thegarden at this time in the morning. "

"True, Harry; I did not. " He paused for a moment, and went on--"It istruth, lad, that I meant to knock at your front door, by-and-by, andask for you. But, the hour being over-early for calling, I had amind, before rousing you out of bed, to walk down the lane and have alook over your garden gate. Nay, " he corrected himself, "I do notput it quite honestly, even yet. I came in search of something. "

"I can save you the trouble, perhaps, " said I, and, diving a handinto my breech-pocket, I pulled out the gold-rimmed eyeglasses. 

He made no offer to take them, though I held them out to him on myopen palm, but fell back a step, and, after a glance at them, liftedhis eyes and met mine honestly, albeit with a trouble in his face. 

"You found them?"

"Yes. "

"To whom have you shown them?"

"To nobody. "

"Yet there has been some inquiry?"

I nodded. 

"At which you were present?"

I nodded again. 

"And you said nothing of this--this piece of evidence? Why?

"Because"--I hesitated for a couple of seconds and then gulpedhesitation down--"because I could not believe that you--that you werereally--"

"Thank you, Harry. "

"All the same, sir, your name was mentioned. "

"Eh?" He was plainly astonished. "My name mentioned? But why?How? since no one saw me here, and if, as you say, you hid this onlyevidence--"

"It came up, sir, when they examined me about Captain Danny. You know--do you not?--that they have found his body, too. "

"I heard the news being cried in Truro streets as we came through. Poor old Coffin! It is all mystery to me--mystery on mystery!But how on earth should my name have come up in connection with him?"

"Why, about your teaching him navigation, sir. "

Captain Branscome passed a hand over his forehead. 

"Navigation? Yes; to be sure, I taught him navigation--or, rather, tried to. But what of that?"

"Well, sir, Miss Belcher seemed to think it suspicious. "

He reached out a hand, and, taking the glasses from me, sat down uponthe stone base of the flagstaff and began feebly to polish them. 

"Impossible!" he said faintly, as if to himself; then aloud:"The man was a friend of yours, too, wasn't he?"

"Yes, sir; if you mean Captain Coffin, he was a friend of mine. "

"And of mine; and, as you say, he came to me to learn navigation. Now, what connection there can be between that and his being murdereda dozen miles inland--"

But here he broke off, and we both looked up and across the streamas, with a click of the latch, the door there creaked and opened, andMiss Belcher entered the garden. She wore an orange-coloureddressing-gown, top-boots to guard her ankles from the morning dew, ared kerchief tied over her brow to keep her iron-grey locks in place, and over it her customary beaver hat--_et vera incessu patit dea_. Even thus attired did Miss Belcher, a goddess of the dawn, comestriding over the footbridge and across the turf to us; and theeffect of the apparition upon Captain Branscome's nerves, after anight of travel alongside Russell's van, I can only surmise. I did not observe it, having for the moment no eyes for him. 

"Hallo!" said Miss Belcher, walking straight up to us, and halting, with a hand planted, washerwoman fashion, on either hip, as CaptainBranscome staggered to his feet and saluted. "Hallo! who's this?"

"Captain Branscome, ma'am, " stammered I. 

"I thought as much. And what is Captain Branscome doing here?"

"By your leave, ma'am, " said Captain Branscome, "I--I was justdropping in for a talk here with my friend Harry Brooks. "

"H'm!" sniffed Miss Belcher, and eyed him up and down for a full tenseconds with an uncompromising stare. "As an explanation, sir, youwill allow that to be a trifle unsatisfactory. What have you beeneating lately?"

"Madam?"

Captain Branscome stared at her in weak bewilderment; and, indeed, the snort which accompanied Miss Belcher's question seemed to accusehim of impregnating the morning air with a scent of onions. 

"You can answer a plain question, I hope?" said she. "When did youeat last, and what was it?"

"To be precise, ma'am--though I don't understand you--it was anapple, and about--let me see--seven hours ago. "

Miss Belcher turned to me and nodded. 

"In other words, the man's starving. I don't blame you, HarryBrooks. One can't look for old heads on young shoulders. But, forgoodness' sake, take him into the house and give him something toeat!"

"Madam--" again began Captain Branscome, still a prey to that mentalparalysis which Mrs. Belcher's costume and appearance ever producedupon strangers, and for which she never made the smallest allowance. 

"Don't tell me!" she snapped. "I breed stock and I buy 'em. I knowthe signs. "

"I was about to suggest, ma'am, that--travel-stained as I am--a washand a shave would be even more refreshing. "

"H'm! You're one of those people--eh?--that study appearances?"(In the art of disconcerting by simple interrogation I newer knewMiss Belcher's peer, whether for swiftness, range, or variety. )"Brought a razor with you?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

"Take him to the house, Harry; but first show me where the hens havebeen laying. "

Half an hour later, as Captain Branscome, washed, brushed, andfreshly shaven, descended to the breakfast-parlour, Miss Belcherentered the house by the back door, with her hat full of new-laideggs. 

"Nothing like a raw egg to start the day upon, " she announced. "I suck 'em, for my part; but some prefer 'em beaten up in a dish oftea. "

She suited the action to the word, and beat up one in the Captain'steacup while Plinny carved him a slice of ham. 

"Ladies, " he protested, "I am ashamed. I do not deserve thishospitality. If you would allow me first to tell my story!"

"_You're_ all right, " said Miss Belcher. "Couldn't hurt a fly, ifyou wanted to. There! Eat up your breakfast, and then you can tellus all about it. "

The two ladies had, each in her way, a knack of making her meaningclear without subservience to the strict forms of speech. 

"It will be a weight off one's mind, " declared Plinny, "even if itshould prove to be the last straw. "

"There's one thing to be thankful for, " chimed in Miss Belcher, "and that is, Jack Rogers has gone to St. Mawes. When there'sserious business to be discussed I always thank a Providence thatclears the men out of the way. "

I glanced at Captain Branscome. Assuredly he had come with nointention at all of unbosoming himself before a couple of ladies. He desired--desired desperately, I felt sure--to confide in me alone. But Miss Belcher's off-handish air of authority completely nonplussedhim; he sat helplessly fidgeting with his breakfast-plate. 

"To tell you the truth, ladies, " he began, "I had not expected this--this audience. It finds me, in a manner of speaking, unprepared. "He ran a finger around the edge of his saucer after the manner of oneperforming on the musical glasses, and threw a hunted glance at thewindow, as though for a way of escape. "My name, ladies, isBranscome. I was once well-to-do, and commanded a packet in theservice of his Majesty's Postmasters-General. But times have alteredwith me, and I am now an usher in a school, and a very poor man. "

He paused; looked up at Miss Belcher, who had squared her elbows onthe table in very unladylike fashion; and cleared his throat beforeproceeding--

"You will excuse me for mentioning this, but it is an essential partof my story. "

"The Stimcoes, " suggested Miss Belcher, "didn't pay up--eh?"

"Mr. Stimcoe--though a scholar, ma'am--has suffered from time to timefrom pecuniary embarrassment. "

"--Traceable to drink, " interpolated Miss Belcher, with a nod towardsPlinny. "No, sir; you need not look at Harry: _he_ has told usnothing. I formed my own conclusions. "

"Mrs. Stimcoe, ma'am--for I should tell you she keeps the purse--istoo often unable to make two ends meet, as the saying is. I believeshe paid when she could, but somehow my salary has always been inarrear. I have used remonstrance with her, before now, to a degreewhich it shames me to remember; yet, in spite of it, I have sometimesfound myself on a Saturday, after a week's work, without a loaf ofbread in the cupboard. I doubt, ma'am, if any one who has notexperienced it can wholly understand the power of mere hunger todegrade a man; to what lengths he can be urged, willy-nilly, as itwere, by the instinct to satisfy it. There were Sabbaths, ma'am, when to attend divine worship seemed a mockery; the craving drove meaway from all congregations of Christian men and out into the fields, where--I tell it with shame, ma'am--I have stolen turnips and eatenthem raw, loathing the deed even worse than I loathed the vegetable, for the taste of which--I may say--I have a singular aversion. Well, among my pupils was Harry here, whom I discovered to be the sonof an old friend of mine. I dare to call the late Major James Brooksa friend in spite of the difference between our stations in life--adifference he himself was good enough to forget. Our acquaintancebegan on the _Londonderry_ transport, which I commanded, and in whichI brought him home from Corunna to Plymouth in the January of 1809. It ended with the conclusion of that short and anxious passage. But I had always remembered Major Brooks as one who approached, ifever man did, the ideal of an officer and a gentleman. Now at first, ladies, the discovery suggested no thought to me beyond thepleasure of knowing that my old friend was alive and hale, and thehope of seeing Harry grow up to be as good a man as his father. But by-and-by I found a thought waking and growing, and awake againand itching after I had done my best to kill it, that the Major mightbe moved by the story of an old shipmate brought so low. God forgiveme, ladies!" Captain Branscome put up a hand to cover his brow. "The very telling of it degrades me over again; but I came here tomake a clean breast, and there is no other way. I had cross-examinedHarry about the Major and his habits--not always allowing to myselfwhy I asked him many trivial questions. And then suddenly thetemptation came to a head. Certain Englishmen discharged from theFrench war-prisons were landed at Plymouth. The town turned out towelcome the poor fellows home, and the Mayor entertained them at abanquet, to which also he invited some two hundred townsmen. Among the guests he was good enough to include me; for it has been aconsolation to me, ladies, and a source of pride, that my friends inFalmouth have not withdrawn in adversity the respect which in olddays my uniform commanded. "

"Captain Branscome is not telling you the half of it, " I broke ineagerly. "Every one in Falmouth knows him to be a hero. Why, he hasa sword of honour at home, given him for one of the bravest battlesever fought!"

"Gently, boy--gently!" Captain Branscome corrected me, with a smile, albeit a sad one. "Youth is generous, ladies; it sees these thingsthrough a haze which colours and magnifies them, and--and it's a verypoor kind of hero you'll consider me before I have done. Where wasI? Ah, yes, to be sure--the banquet. His Worship can little haveguessed what his invitation meant to me, or that, while othersthanked him for a compliment, to me it offered a satisfying meal suchas I had not eaten for months. Mr. Stimcoe had given the school aholiday. In short, I attended. 

"I fear, ladies, that the food and the generous wine together musthave turned my head--there is no other explanation; for when the mealwas over and I sat listening to the speeches, but fumbling with aglass of port before me, scarcely with the half-crown in my pocketwhich must carry me over another week's house-keeping, all of asudden the man inside me rose in revolt. I felt such poverty as mineto be unendurable, and that I was a slave, a spiritless fool, to putup with it. There must be hundreds of good, Christian folk in theworld who had only to know to stretch out a hand of help and gladly, as I would have helped such a case in the days of my own prosperity. Remember, I am not putting this forward as a sober plea. I know itnow to be false, self-cheating, the apology that every beggar makesfor himself, the specious argument that every poor man must resistwho would hold fast by his manhood. But there, with the wine in meand the juices of good meat, the temptation took me at unawares andmastered me as I had never allowed it to master me while I hungered. I saw the world in a sudden rosy light; I felt that my pastsufferings had been unnecessary. I thought of Major Brooks--"

"Bless the man!" interjected Miss Belcher. "He's coming to the pointat last. "

"Your pardon, ma'am. I will be briefer. I thought of Major Brooks. I took a resolve there and then to extend my holiday; to walk hitherto Minden Cottage, and lay my case before him. The banquet had nosooner broken up than I started. I reached Truro at nightfall, andhired a bed there for sixpence. Early next morning I set forwardagain. By this time the impulse had died out of me, but I stillwalked forward, playing with my intention, always telling myself thatI could relinquish it and turn back to Falmouth, cheating--yes, Ifear deliberately cheating--myself with the assurance until more thanhalf the journey lay behind me, and to turn back would be worse thanpusillanimous. At St. Austell a carrier offered me a lift, andbrought me to Liskeard. Thence I walked forward again, and in thelate afternoon came in sight of Minden Cottage. 

"I recognized it at once from Harry's description, and at firstI was minded to walk up and knock boldly at the front door. But remembering also the lad's account of the garden and how theMajor would spend the best part of his day there--and partly, Ifancy, being nervous and uncertain with what form of words to presentmyself--I pulled up at the angle of the house, where the lane comesup alongside the garden wall to join the road, and halted, to collectmyself and study my bearings. 

"The time was about twenty minutes after five, and the light prettygood. But the lane is pretty well overgrown, as you know. I lookeddown and along it, and it appeared to end in a tangle or brambles. I turned my attention to the house, and was studying it through myglasses, taking stock of its windows and chimneys, and generally(as you might say) reckoning it up, along with the extent of itsgarden, when, happening to take another glance down the lane, to runa measure of the garden wall--or perhaps a movement caught my eye--I saw a man step across the path between the brambles, out of thegarden, as you might say, and into the plantation opposite. The pathbeing so narrow, I glimpsed him for half a second only. But theglimpse of him gave me a start, for, if to suppose it had beenanywise possible, I could have sworn the man was one I had known inFalmouth and left behind there. "

"Captain Coffin!" I exclaimed. 

"Ay, lad, Captain Coffin--Captain Danny Coffin. But what should hebe doing at Minden Cottage?"

"The quicker you proceed, sir, " said Miss Belcher, rapping the table, "the sooner we are likely to discover. "

[1] Russell's waggons--"Russell and Co. , Falmouth to London"--werehuge vehicles that plied along the Great West Road under an escort ofsoldiers, and conveyed the bullion and other treasure landed atFalmouth by the Post Office packets. They were drawn, always at afoot-pace, by teams of six stout horses. The waggoner rode beside ona pony, and inside sat a man armed with pistols and blunderbuss. Poor travellers used these waggons, walking by day, and sleeping bynight beneath the tilt. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

CAPTAIN BRANSCOME'S CONFESSION--THE FLAG AND THE CASHBOX. 

"Well, ma'am, " resumed Captain Branscome, "so strong was the likenessto old Coffin, and yet so incredible was it he should be in theseparts, that, almost without stopping to consider, I turned down thelane on the chance of another glimpse of the man. This brought me, of course, to the stile leading into the plantation; but the paththere, as you know, takes a turn among the trees almost as soon as itstarts, and runs, moreover, through a pretty thick undergrowth. The fellow, whoever he was, had disappeared. 

"I can't say but what I was still puzzled, though the likeliestexplanation--indeed, the only likely one--seemed to be that my eyeshad played me a trick. I had pretty well made up my mind to this whenI turned away from the stile to have a look at the garden gate on theother side of the lane; and over it, across the little stretch ofturf, I caught sight of the summer-house and of Major Brooks standingthere in the doorway with a bundle between his hands-a bundle ofsomething red, which he seemed to be wrapping round with a piece ofcord. 

"Here, then, was the very man I had come to see; and here was achance of getting speech with him and without the awkwardness ofasking it through a servant, perhaps of having to invent an excusefor my visit. Without more ado, therefore, I made bold to lift thelatch of the gate and step into the garden. 

"At the sound of the latch--I can see him now--Major Brooks liftedhis head with a curious start, and tucked the bundle under his arm. The movement was like that of a man taken at unawares, andstraightening himself up to meet an attack. I cannot describe itprecisely, but that was just the impression it made on me, and ittook me aback for a moment, so that I paused as the gate fell-to andlatched itself behind me. 

"'Halt there!' the Major commanded, facing me full across the turf. 'Halt, and tell me, please, why you have come back!'

"This puzzled me worse for a moment, for the light was good, thoughdrawing towards sunset, and it seemed impossible that, lookingstraight at me, he could mistake me for the man who had just left thegarden. Then I remembered what Harry had told me of his father'sblindness. 

"My silence naturally made him more suspicious. 

"'Who is it there? Your name, please?' he demanded sharply. 

"' Sir, ' I answered, 'I beg your pardon for coming thus unannounced, but my name is Branscome, and I had once the honour to be shipmatewith you on board the _Londonderry_ transport. '

"For a while he continued to stare at me in his blind way. 

"'Yes, ' he said slowly, at length; 'yes; I remember your voice, sir. But what in the name of wonder brings you to my garden just now?'

"'Your son Harry, sir, ' said I, 'some time ago gave me a message fromyou. If ever (he said) I found myself in the neighbourhood of MindenCottage you would be pleased to receive a visit from me. '

"'Yes, ' said he, but still with a something in his voice betweenwonder and suspicion; 'that's true enough. I have always retainedthe highest respect for Captain Branscome, and by your voice you arehe. But--but--' He hesitated, and fired another question point-blankat me: 'You come from Falmouth?'

"'I do, sir. '

"'Alone?'

"'Yes, sir. I have walked all the way from Falmouth, and without acompanion. '

"'Look here, my friend, ' he said, after seeming to ponder for amoment, 'if you mean ill, you must have altered strangely from theCaptain Branscome I used to know, and if you mean well you have timedyour visit almost as strangely. ' He paused again. 'Either you knowwhat I mean, or you do not; if you do not, you will have to forgive agreat deal in this reception; and you will, to begin with, forgive myasking you, on your word of honour, if on your journey hither youhave overtaken or met or recognized any one hailing from Falmouth. You do not answer, ' he added, after yet another pause. 

"'Why, as to that, sir, ' said I, 'since leaving Falmouth I haveneither met nor overtaken any one of my acquaintance. But, since youput it to me precisely, I will not swear that I have not recognizedone. A few minutes ago, standing at the head of the lane here, I sawa man cross it, presumably from this garden, and take the pathleading through the plantation yonder. It certainly strikes me thatI knew the man, and I followed him down the lane here to make sure. '

"'Why?' the Major asked me. 

"'Because, sir, ' said I, 'it did not seem possible to me that theman I mean could have any business here; besides which, an hour ortwo before leaving Falmouth I had passed him in the street, andthough he had, indeed, the use of his legs, he was too far gone inliquor to recognize me. '

"'His name?' the Major asked. 

"'Coffin, sir, ' said I; 'usually known as Captain Coffin, or CaptainDanny. '

"'A drunkard?' he asked. 

"'A man given to liquor, ' said I, 'by fits and starts; but mildenough in an ordinary way. You might call him the least bit touchedin the upper story; of a loose, rambling head, at all events, as Ican testify, who have taught him navigation--or tried to. '

"The Major, though he could not see me, seemed to study me with hisblind eyes. He stood erect, with the bundle clipped under his leftarm; and the bundle I made out to be a flag, rolled up and strappedabout with its own lanyard. 

"'One more question, Captain Branscome, ' said he. 'This CaptainCoffin, as you call him--is he, to the best of your knowledge, anhonest man?'

"I answered that I had heard question of Coffin's sanity, but neverof his honesty. 

"'His sanity, eh?' said the Major; and I could see he was hung instays, but he picked up his wind after a second or two, and paid offon another tack. 'Well, well, ' he said, 'we'll drop talking of thisCoffin, and turn to the business that brings you here. What is it?For I take it you've walked all the way from Falmouth for somethingmore than the sake of a chat over old times. '

"I remember, ladies, the words he used, though not the tone of them. To tell the truth, though my ears received 'em, I was not listening. I stood there, wishing myself a hundred miles away; but his mannergave me no chance to fob him off with an excuse, or pretend I haddropped in for a passing call. There was nothing for it but to outwith my story, and into it I plunged somehow, my tongue stammeringwith shame. He listened, to be sure, but without offering to help meover the hard places. Indeed, at the first mention of my poverty, Isaw all his first suspicions--whatever they had been--return and showthemselves in his blind eyes. His mouth was set like a closed trap. Yet he heard me out, and, when I had done, his suspicions seemed tohave faded again, for he answered me considerately enough, though notcordially. 

"'Captain Branscome, ' he said, 'I may tell you at once that I neverlend money; and my reason is partly that good seldom comes of it, andpartly that I am a poor man--if you can call a man poor who is by afew pounds richer than his needs. But I have a great respect foryou'--the ladies will forgive me for repeating his exact words--'andyour voice seems to tell me that you still deserve it; that you havesuffered more than you say before being driven to make this appeal. I can do something--though it be little--to help an old comrade. Will you oblige me by stepping into the summer-house here, and takinga seat while I go to the house? I will not keep you waiting morethan a few minutes. '

"He picked up his walking-stick, which rested against a chair, justwithin the doorway, and stood for a moment while I stepped past himand entered the summer-house; and so, with a nod of the head, turnedand walked towards the house, using his stick very skilfully to feelhis path between the bushes, and still keeping the flag tucked underhis left arm. 

"So I sat and waited, ladies, on no good terms with myself. The wayof the borrower was hard, I found, and the harder because the Major'smanner had not been unkindly, but--if you'll understand my meaning--only just kindly enough. In short, I don't know but that I must haveout and run rather than endure his charity, had not my thoughts beendistracted by this mystery over Captain Coffin. For the Major hadsaid too much, and yet not enough. The man I had seen crossing thelane was certainly Coffin, but to connect him with Minden Cottage Ihad no clue at all beyond the faint one, Harry, that you and he wereacquaintances. Besides, I had seen him, the morning before, in thecrowd around the prisoners, and could have sworn he was then--savingyour presence, ladies--as drunk as a fiddler. If vehicle had broughthim, it could not be any that had passed me on the road, or forcertain I should have recognized him. Well, here was a riddle, and Ihad come no nearer to guessing it when the Major returned. 

"He had left his bundle in the house, and in place of it he carried acashbox, which he set on the table between us, but did not at onceopen. Instead, he turned to me with a complete change of manner, andheld out his hand very frankly. 

"'I owe you an apology, Captain, ' said he. 'To be plain with you, atthe moment you appeared, I was half expecting a different kind ofvisitor, and I fear you received some of the welcome prepared forhim. Overlook it, please, and shake hands; and, to get our businessover, '--he unlocked the cashbox--'here are ten guineas, which I willask you to accept from me. We won't call it a gift; we will call itan acknowledgement for the extra pains you have put into teaching myson. Tut, man!' said he, as I protested. 'Harry has told us allabout that. I assure you the youngster came near to wearying us, last holiday, with praise of you. '"

"And so he did, " Plinny here interrupted. "That is to say, sir--I--Imean we were only too glad to listen to him. "

"I thank you, ma'am. " Captain Branscome bowed to her gravely. "I will not deny that the Major's words gave me pleasure for themoment. He, for his part, appeared to be quite another man. 'Twas as if between leaving me and returning to the summer-house aload had been lifted from his mind. He counted out the guineas, locked the cashbox again, lit his pipe, and then, seeming torecollect himself, reached down a clean one from a stack above thedoorway, and insisted upon my filling and smoking with him. 'Twas a long while since I had tasted the luxury of tobacco. We talked of old days on the _Londonderry_, of Sir John Moore's lastcampaign, of Falmouth and the packets, of the peace and the overthrowof Bonaparte's ambitions; or, rather, 'twas he that talked andquestioned, while for me 'twas pleasure enough, and a pleasure longdenied me, to sit on terms with a well-read gentleman and listen totalk of a quality which--"

"Which differed from that of the Rev. Philip Stimcoe's, " suggestedMiss Belcher, as he hesitated. "Proceed, sir. "

"I shall add, madam, that the Major very kindly invited me to sleepthat night under his roof. I could pick up the coach in the morning(he said). But this I declined, professing that I preferred thenight for travelling, and maybe, before tiring myself, wouldovertake one of Russell's waggons and obtain a lift; the fact beingthat, grateful though I found it to sit and converse with him, myconscience was accusing me all the while. 

"Towards the end of our talk he had let slip by accident that he wasby no means a rich man. The money from that moment began to burn inmy pockets, and I had scarcely shaken hands with him and taken myleave--which I did just as the sun was sinking behind the plantationacross the lane--before his guineas fairly scorched me. I held on myway for a mile or more. You may have observed, ladies, that I limpin my walk? It is the effect of an old wound. But, I declare toyou, my limp was nothing to the thought I dragged with me--therecollection of the Major's face and the expression that had comeover it when I had first confessed my errand. All his subsequentkindness, his sympathy, his hospitality, his frank and easy talk, could not wipe out that recollection. I had sold something which foryears it had been my pride to keep. I had forced it on an unwillingbuyer. I had taken the money of a poor man, and had given him inexchange--what? You remember, ladies, those words of Shakespeare--good words, although he puts them into the mouth of a villain--that:

 "' . . . He who filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed. '

"No one had filched my honour--I had sold it to a good man, but yetwithout enriching him, while in the loss of it I knew myself poorindeed. At the second milestone I turned back, more eager now tofind the Major and get rid of the money than ever I had been toobtain it. 

"My face was no sooner turned again towards the cottage than I brokeinto a run, and so good pace I made between running and walking thatit cannot have been more than an hour from my leaving the gardenbefore I arrived back at the head of the lane. The evening wasdusking in, but by no means dark as yet, even though a dark cloud hadcrept up from the west and overhung the plantation to the right. I looked down the lane as I entered it, and again--yes, ladies, assurely as before--I saw a man cross it from the garden gate and stepinto the plantation!

"Who the man was I could not tell, the light being so uncertain. Although he crossed the lane just where Coffin had crossed it anddisappeared in just the same manner, I had an impression that he wasnot Coffin, and that his gait, for one thing, differed from Coffin's. But I tell you this for what it is worth: I was startled, you may besure, and hurried down the lane after him even quicker than I hadhurried after the first man; but when I came to the stile, he, likethe first man, had vanished, and within the plantation it wasimpossible by this time to see more than twenty yards deep. 

"Again I turned and crossed the lane to the garden gate. A sort oftwilight lay over the turf between me and the summer-house, andbeneath the apple-trees skirting my path to it on the left you mightsay that it was night; but the water at the foot of the garden threwup a sort of glimmer, and there was a glimmer, too, on the vane abovethe flagstaff. I noted this and that, though my eyes were searchingfor Major Brooks in the dark shadow under the pent of thesummer-house. 

"Towards this I stepped; but in the dark I must have walked a fewfeet wide of the straight line, for I remember brushing against alow-growing branch of one of the apple-trees, and this must havecaught in my eyeglass-ribbon and torn it, for when I came to fumblefor them a few seconds later to help my sight, the glasses were gone. 

"By this time I had reached the summer-house and come to a halt, three paces, maybe, from the doorstep. 'Major Brooks!' I calledsoftly, and then again, but a thought louder, 'Major Brooks!'

"There was no answer, ladies, and I turned myself half about, uncertain whether to go back up the lane and knock at the front dooror to seek my way to the house through the garden. Just then my boottouched something soft, and I bent and saw the Major's body stretchedacross the step close beside my ankles. I stooped lower and put downa hand. It touched his shoulder, and then the ground beneath hisshoulder, and the ground was moist. I drew my hand back with ashiver, and just at that moment, as I stared at my fingers, the heavycloud beyond the plantation lifted itself clear of the trees and letthe last of the daylight through--enough to show me a dark stainrunning from my finger-tips and trickling towards the palm. 

"And then, ladies--at first I thought of no danger to myself, but ranfor the gate, still groping as I went, for my eyeglasses; stumbledacross the lane somehow, and over the stile in vain chase of the manI had glimpsed two minutes before. I say a vain chase, for I had notplunged twenty yards into the plantation before--short-sighted molethat I am--I had lost the track. I pulled up, on the point ofshouting for help, and with that there flashed on me the thought ofthe Major's guineas in my pocket. If I called for help I called downsuspicion on myself, and suspicion enough to damn me. How could Iexplain my presence in the garden? How could I account for themoney--straight from the Major's cashbox?"

Captain Branscome paused and gazed around upon us as if caught oncemore in that terrible moment of choice. Miss Belcher met his gazeand nodded. 

"So the upshot was that you ran for it? Well, I can't say that Iblame you. But, as it happens, if you had stood still the cashboxmight have helped to clear you; for it was found next morning, half amile away in the brook, below my lodge-gate. "

"And there's one thing, " said Plinny, "we may thank God for, if it ispossible to be thankful for anything in this dreadful business. The murderer, whoever he was, got little profit from his crime, for Iknow pretty well the state of your poor father's finances, Harry; andif, as Captain Branscome tells us, he had taken ten guineas from thebox, there must have been very few left in it. "

"My good soul, " said Miss Belcher, "the man wasn't after money!He wanted the map this Captain Coffin had left in the Major'skeeping. That's as plain as the nose on your good, dear face. If the map happened to be in the cashbox, and I'll bet ten to one itwasn't--"

"You may bet ten thousand to one!" I cried. "It was never in thecashbox at all. It was wrapped up in the flag my father carried intothe house. "

"Bless the boy, " said Miss Belcher; "he's not half a fool, after all!Yes, yes--where is the flag?"

"On the flagstaff, " said I. "I hoisted it there this morning. "

"Eh?"

"And here, " I panted, jumping up in my excitement, "here is CaptainCoffin's map!"

I heard Miss Belcher breathing hard as I lugged out the oilskinpacket, tore open the knotted string which bound it, and, drawingforth the parchment, spread it, with shaking fingers, on the table. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

THE CHART OF MORTALLONE. 

While the others drew their chairs closer, and while I spread flatthe parchment--which was crinkled (by the action of salt water, maybe)--I had time to assure myself that this was the selfsame chartof which Captain Coffin had once vouchsafed me a glimpse. I remembered the shape of the island, the point marked "CapeAlderman, " the strange, whiskered heraldical monster depicted in theact of rising from the waves off the north-western coast, the equallyimpossible ship, decorated with a sprit-top-mast and a flag upon it, and charging up under full sail for the southern entry, the name ofwhich ("Gow's Gulf") I must have missed to read in the short perusalCaptain Coffin had allowed me. At any rate, I could not recall it. But I recalled the three crosses which showed (so he had told me)where the treasure lay. They were marked in red ink, and I explainedtheir meaning to Miss Belcher, who had pounced upon them at once. 

"Fiddlestick-end!" said that lady, falling back on her favouriteejaculation. "Great clumsy crosses of that size! How in the worldcould any one find a treasure by such marks, unless it happened to betwo miles long?"

She pointed to the scale at the head of the chart, which, to be sure, gave six miles to the inch. By the same measurement the crossescovered, each way, from half a mile to three-quarters. Moreover, each had patently been dashed in with two hurried strokes of the penand without any pretence of accuracy. The first cross covered a"key" or sand-bank off the northern shore of the island; the secondsprawled athwart what appeared to be the second height in a range ofhills running southward from Cape Alderman, and down along the entireeastern coast at a mean distance of a mile, or a little over, fromthe sea; while the third was planted full across a grove of trees atthe head of the great inlet--Gow's Gulf--to the south, and, moreover, spanned the chief river of the island, which, running almost duesouth from the back of the hills or mountains (their size was notindicated) below Cape Alderman, discharged itself into the apex ofthe gulf. 

"Without bearings of some sort, " said Miss Belcher, "these marks aremerely ridiculous. "

"You may well say so, ma'am, " Captain Branscome answered, butinattentively. "Mortallone--Mortallone, " he went on, muttering theword over as if to himself. "It is curious, all the same. "

"What is curious?" demanded Miss Belcher. 

"Why, ma'am, I have never myself visited the Gulf of Honduras, butamong seamen there are always a hundred stories floating about. In a manner of speaking, there is no such shop for gossip as the sea. In every port you meet 'em, in taverns where sailors drink and brag--the liquor being in them--and one man talks and the rest listen, nottroubling themselves to believe. It is good to find one's selfashore, you understand? And a good, strong-flavoured yarn makesthe landlord and all the shore-keeping folk open their eyes--"

"Bless the man!" Miss Belcher rapped her knuckles on the table. "This is not a 'longshore tavern. "

"No, ma'am. "

"Then why not come to the point?"

"The point, ma'am--well, the point is that every one--that is to say, every seaman--has heard tell of treasure knocking about, as you mightput it, somewhere in the Gulf of Honduras. "

"What sort of treasure?"

"Why, as to that, ma'am, it varies with the story. Sometimes 'tisbar silver from the isthmus, and sometimes 'tis gold plate andbullion that belonged to the old Kings of Mexico; but by the taleI've heard offtenest, 'tis church treasure that was run away with bya shipful of logwoodmen in Campeachy Bay. But there again you nosooner fix it as church treasure, and ask where it came from, thanyou have to choose between half a dozen different accounts. Some sayfrom the Spanish islands--Havana for choice; others from the Main, and I've heard places mentioned as far apart us Vera Cruz andCaracas. The dates, too--if you can call them dates at all--varyjust as surprisingly. "

"The date on this chart is 1776, " said Miss Belcher, who had beenpeering at it while the Captain spoke. 

"Then, supposing there's something in poor Coffin's secret, thatgives you the year to start from. We'll suppose this is the verychart used by the man who hid the treasure. Then it follows thetreasure wasn't hidden before 1776, and that rules out all the yarnsabout Hornigold, Teach, Bat Roberts, and suchlike pirates, the lastof whom must have been hanged a good fifty years before: thoughhere's evidence"--Captain Branscome laid a forefinger on the chart--"that these gentry had dealings with the island in their day. 'Gow's Gulf, ' 'Cape Fea'--Gow was a pirate and a hard nut at that;and Fea, if I remember, his lieutenant or something of the sort; butthey had gone their ways before ever this was printed, andconsequently before ever these crosses came to be written on it. You follow me, ma'am?"

Miss Belcher gave a contemptuous sniff which, I doubt not, would haveprefaced the remark that an unweaned child would arrive unaided atthe same conclusions; but here I interposed. 

"Captain Coffin, " said I, "told me that a part of the treasure waschurch plate, and that he had seen it. He showed me a coin, too, andsaid it came from the island. "

"Hey, lad? What sort of coin?"

But to this I could give no answer, except that it was a piece ofgold, and in size perhaps a trifle smaller than a guinea. 

"That's a pity, lad. The coin might have helped us. You're sure nowthat you can't remember? It hadn't a couple of pillars engraved onit, for instance?"

I shook my head. I had taken no particular heed of the stamp on thecoin. 

Captain Branscome sighed his disappointment. 

"The church plate don't help us at all, " he said, "or very little. Why, I've heard this Honduras treasure dated so far back as Morgan'stime, when he sacked Panama. The tale went that the priests atPanama or Chagres, or one of those places, on fright of Morgan'scoming, clapped all their treasure aboard ship under a guard ofmilitia--soldiers of some sort, anyway--and that the seamen cut thesoldiers' throats, slipped cable, and away-to-go. But Morgan!He must have died before Queen Anne was born--well, not so far backas that maybe, but then or thenabouts. I tell you, ma'am, this storyhangs around every port and every room where seamen gather and drinkand take their ways again. 'Tis for all the world like the smell oftobacco-smoke, that tells you some one has come and gone, but leavesyou nothing to get hold of. Hallo!--"

As the exclamation escaped him, Captain Branscome, who had casuallypicked up a corner of the parchment between finger and thumb, with anervous jerk drew the whole chart from under my outspread palms andturned it over face-downwards. 

"Eh? But see here!"

He fumbled with his glasses, while Miss Belcher and I, snatching atthe chart, almost knocked our heads together as we bent over a cornerof it--the left-hand upper corner--and a dozen lines of writingscrawled there in faded ink. They ran thus--

 1. Landed by cuttar when wee saw a sail. Lesser Kay N. Of Gable. Get open water between two kays S. W. And W. By S. , and N. Inner point of Gable (where is green patch, good watering) in line with white rock (birds), neer as posble. S. A point E. 3 feet bare, being hurried. 

 2. Bayse of cliff second hill S. S. W. From Cape Alderman. Here is bank over 2 waterfals. Neer lower fall, 12 paces back from egge, getting island open N. E. Beyond rock W. Of inlet, and first tree Misery Swamp over Crabtree, W. S. W Bush above rock to rt of fall. Shaddow 1/4 to 4, June 21st, when we left digging. 

 3. R. Bank river, 1 and 1/2 mile up from Gow crikke. Centre tree in clump 5 branch bearing N. And by E. 1/2 point, two forks. R. Fork 4ft. Red cave under hill 457yds. Foot of tree N. N. W. N. B. --The stones here, under rock 4 spans L side. 

That was all, except two short entries. The first scribbled aslantunder No. 1, and in Captain Coffin's own handwriting--so CaptainBranscome, who knew it, assured us. 

 N. B. --Took out 5 cases Ap. 5, 1806, besides the boddies. Avging 3/4 cwt. 1 case jewels. We left the clothes, wh. Were many. 

The second entry appeared to have been penned by the same hand as theoriginal, but more neatly and some while later. The ink, at anyrate, was blacker and fresher. It ran:

 S. W. Ann. Aetat. 37. R. I. P. 

The handwriting, though rugged--and the indifferent ink may have beento blame for this--was well formed, and, but for the spelling, mighthave belonged to an educated man. 

The reader, if he choose, may follow our example and discuss theabove directions for half an hour--I will warrant with as littleresult. Miss Belcher ended by harking back to the summer-house andto the latest crime--if we might guess, the latest of many--for whichthis document had been responsible. 

"What puzzles me is this: Since the Major had pockets in his coat, why should he have hidden the parcel as he did? So small a parcel, too!"

"Captain Coffin, " I suggested, "may have known that he was beingfollowed. "

"Well?"

"And in handing it over he may have warned my father that there wasdanger. "

"I believe the boy is right, " said Captain Branscome. "Now I recallthe Major's face at the moment when I rattled the latch, I feel surehe was on his guard. Yes--yes, he had been warned against carryingthis on his person--he was wrapping it away for the time--"

"Why, what ails the man?" demanded Miss Belcher, as Captain Branscomestopped short with a groan. 

"I was thinking, ma'am, that but for my visit he might never haverelaxed his guard--that it was I who helped the murderer to take himat unawares. Nay--worse, ma'am, worse--his last thought may havebeen that I was the traitor--that the blow he took was from the handhe had filled with gold--that I had returned to kill him in hisblindness!"

Captain Branscome bowed his head upon his hands. I saw Plinny--whoall this while had sat silent, content to listen--rise, her facetwitching, and put out a hand to touch the captain's shoulder. I saw her hand hesitate as her sense of decorum overtook her pity andseemed to reason with it. And with that I heard the noise of wheelson the road. 

"Hallo!"--Miss Belcher pricked up her ears. "Here's that nuisanceJack Rogers turning up again!"

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE CONTENTS OF THE CORNER CUPBOARD. 

Mr. Jack Rogers, as he pulled up by the porch and directedme to stand by the young mare's head, wore a look of extremeself-satisfaction. Beside him, also beaming, sat Mr. Goodfellow, with the corner cupboard nursed between his knees. 

"Capital news, lad!" announced Mr. Rogers, climbing down from thetilbury. "The filly's pretty near dead-beat, though--must see to herand cool her down before telling it. Now, then, Mr. Goodfellow, ifyou'll hand out the cupboard. By the way, sonny, I hope MissPlinlimmon can give us breakfast. I'm as hungry as a hunter, for mypart, and deserve it, too, after a good night's work. With myfol-de-rol, diddledy--" He started to hum, but checked himselfshamefacedly. "There I go again, and I beg your pardon! 'Tis themost difficult thing in the world to me to behave myself in a houseof mourning. "

Mr. Goodfellow by this time had clambered down, and was embracing thecorner cupboard as though he had parted from it for an age, insteadof for fifty seconds at the farthest. 

"Carry it indoors, but don't open it till I'm ready, " commanded Mr. Rogers, stooping under the filly to loosen her belly-band. "I'm a magistrate, remember, and these things must be done in order. You come along with me, Harry; that is, if you have the key in yourpocket. "

"I have, sir. "

"Right! Then come along with me, and you'll be out of harm's way. "

So, while Mr. Goodfellow carried the cupboard into the house, Mr. Rogers and I attended to the filly. 

This took, maybe, twenty minutes; but Mr. Rogers was a sportsman, and thought of his horse before himself. Not till all was done, and well done, did he announce again that he was devilish peckish;nor did I take the measure of his meaning until, returning to thebreakfast-room where Mr. Goodfellow sat before a plate of bread andcream, he helped himself to a mass of veal pie fit for a giant, andbefore attacking it drained a tankard of cider at a single pull, while he nodded over the rim to Captain Branscome, to whom Plinnyintroduced him. 

"Jack, " said Miss Belcher, with a jerk of her thumb towards theCaptain, "I'll lay you two to one in guineas, that our news is moreimportant than yours!"

"I take you, " said Mr. Rogers. 

"It will save time if we tell it while you're eating, and will saveyou the trouble of talking with your mouth full. "

Once or twice, while she abridged Captain Branscome's narrative, Mr. Rogers set down knife and fork, and stared at her with roundeyes, his jaws slowly chewing. 

"And I reckon, " concluded Miss Belcher, "that you won't dispute yourowing me a guinea. "

"Wait a bit!" Mr. Rogers pushed his empty plate away, selected aclean one, and helped himself to six slices of ham. "To begin with, I've found scent and laid on the hounds. "

"Where?"

"At St. Mawes. Captain Coffin, the murdered man, landed there fromthe ferry on the night of the 11th, at a few minutes before nine, andwalked straight to the Lugger Inn, above the quay. There he borrowedfifteen shillings off the landlord, who knew him well; ordered twoglasses of hot gin-and-water, drank them, paid down sixpence, andtook the road that leads east through Gerrans village. His tale wasthat he had a relative to visit at Plymouth Dock, and meant to pushon that night so far as Probus, and there sleep and wait forRussell's waggon. "

"But his road, " I objected, "wouldn't lie through Gerrans village, unless he went by the short cut through the field beyond St. Mawes, and took the ferry at Percuil. "

"Right, lad; and that is precisely what he did; for--to push ahead abit--we overran his track on the main road, and, learning of thatsame short cut, drove back along the other side of the creek toPercuil, and had a talk with the ferryman. The ferryman told us thatat ten o'clock, or thereabouts, he was going to bed having closed theferry, when a voice on the other shore began bawling 'Over!'He slipped on his boots again, rowed across, and took over a man whowas certainly Captain Coffin. "

"He was alone?" I asked. 

"He came across the ferry alone, " said Mr. Rogers, "and I dare say hehad no idea of being followed. But back at St. Mawes, while he wasdrinking gin-and-water in the taproom, another man came to the doorof the Lugger. This man sent for the landlord--Bogue by name--andasked to be shown into a private room. He was dressed inodds-and-ends of garments, including a soiled regimental coat anddirty linen trousers. "

"The French prisoner!" said I. 

"That's the man. He told Bogue, fair and straight, he was anex-prisoner, and off the _Wellinboro'_ transport, arrived that dayin harbour. He had money in his pocket--in Bogue's presence hepulled out a fistful of gold--and he pitched a tale that he was boundfor his home, a little this side of Saltash, but couldn't face theroad in the clothes he wore. You'll admit that this was reasonablewhen you've seen 'em, for I brought the suit along in the tail of thetilbury. For a pound, Bogue fitted him up with an old suit of hisown--coat and waistcoat of blue sea-cloth, not much the worse forwear, duck trousers, a tarpaulin hat, and a flannel shirt markedJ. B. (Bogue's Christian name is Jeremiah). The fellow had no shirtwhen he presented himself--nothing between the bare buff and theuniform coat that he wore buttoned across his chest. And here ourluck comes in. He was shy of stripping in Bogue's presence, and, onpretence of feeling chilly, sent him out of the room for a glass ofhot grog. As it happened, Bogue met the waiting-maid in the passage, coming out of the bar with a tray and half a dozen hot grogs that hadbeen ordered by customers in the tap-room. He picked up one, and, sending the maid back to fetch another to fill up her order, returnedat once to the private room. My gentleman there was standing withhis back to the door, stripped to the waist, with the shirt in hishand, ready to slip it on. He wasn't expecting Bogue so soon, and heturned about with a jump, but not before Bogue had sight of his backand a great picture tattooed across it--Adam and Eve, with the treebetween 'em, and the serpent coiled around it complete. "

"The man Bogue must have quick sight, " commented Miss Belcher. 

"So I told him, but his answer was that it didn't need more than aglance, because this picture is a favourite with seamen. Bogue hasbeen a seaman himself. "

"That is so, " Captain Branscome corroborated. "The man must havebeen a seaman, and at one time or another in the Navy. There's asuperstition about that particular picture: tattooed across the backand loins it's supposed to protect them, in a moderate degree, against flogging. "

"Well, " said Miss Belcher, "his belonging to the Navy seems likelyenough. It accounts, in one way, for his finding himself in a Frenchwar-prison. Go on, Jack. "

"The man (said Bogue) faced about with a start, catching his hands--with the shirt in 'em--towards his chest, and half covering it, butnot so as to hide from Bogue that his chest, too, was marked. Bogue hadn't time to make out the design, but his recollection isthere were several small ones--ships, foul-anchors, and the like--besides a large one that seemed to be some sort of a map. "

"You haven't done so badly, Jack, " Miss Belcher allowed. "If theman hasn't given us the slip at Plymouth you have struck afirst-class scent. Only I doubt 'tis a cold one. You sent word atonce?"

"By express rider, and with orders to leave a description of the manat all the ferries. But there's more to come. The man, that hadseemed at first in a desperate hurry, was no sooner in Bogue'sclothes than he took a seat, made Bogue fetch another glass of grogand drink it with him, and asked him a score of questions about thebest road eastward. It struck Bogue that, for a man whose home wasSaltash, he knew very little about his native county. All this whilehe appeared to have forgotten his hurry, and Bogue was thinking tomake him an excuse to go off and attend to other customers, when of asudden he ups and shakes hands, says good night, and marches out ofthe house. Bogue told me all this in the very room where ithappened. It opens out on the passage leading from the taproom tothe front door. I asked Bogue if he could remember at what timeCoffin left the house, and by what door; also, if the prisoner-fellowheard him leave; but at first he couldn't tell me anything forcertain except that Coffin went out by the front door--he rememberedhearing him go tapping down the passage. The old man, it seems, hada curious way of tapping with his stick. "

Here Mr. Rogers looked at me, and I nodded. 

"Where was the landlord when he heard this?" asked Miss Belcher. 

"That, my dear Lydia, was naturally the next question I put to him. 'Why, in this very room, ' said he, 'now I come to think of it. ''Well, then, ' said I, 'how long did you stay in this room after theprisoner (as we'll call him) had taken his leave?' 'Not a minute, 'said he; 'no, nor half a minute. Indeed, I believe we walked outinto the passage together, and then parted, he going out to the door, and I up the passage to the taproom. ' 'Was Coffin in the taproomwhen you reached it?' I asked. 'No, ' says Bogue; 'to be sure hewasn't. ' 'Why, then, you thickhead, ' says I, 'he must have leftwhile you were talking with the prisoner; and since you heard him go, the odds are the prisoner heard him, too. ' That's the way to get atevidence, Lydia. "

"My dear Jack, " said Miss Belcher, "you're an Argus!"

"Well, I flatter myself it was pretty neat, " resumed Mr. Rogers, speaking with his mouth full; "but, as it happens, we don't need it. For when, as I've told you, we drove around to the ferry at Percuil, and the ferryman described Coffin and how he'd put him across, thefirst question I asked was 'Did you put any one else across thatnight?' He said, 'Yes; and not twenty minutes later. ' 'Man orwoman?' I asked. 'Man, ' said he, 'and a d--d drunk one'--saving yourpresence, ladies. I pricked up my ears. 'Drunk?' I asked. Howdrunk?' 'Drunk enough to near-upon drown himself, ' said theferryman. 'It was this way, sir: I'd scarcely finished mooring theboat again, and was turning to go indoors, when I heard a splash, t'other side of the creek, where; the path comes down under the loomof the trees, and, next moment, a voice as if some person wasdrowning and guggling for help. So I fit and unmoored again, andpushed across for dear life, just in time to see a man scramblingashore. He was as drunk as a fly, sir, even after his wetting. Said he was a retired seaman living at Penzance, had come round toFalmouth on a lime-barge bound for the Truro river, and must getalong to St. Austell in time to attend his sister's wedding therenext morning. Told me his sister's name, but I forget it. Said he'dfallen in with some brave fellows at Falmouth just returned from theFrench war-prisons, and had taken a glass or two. Gave me half acrown when I brought him over and landed him, ' said the ferryman, 'and too far gone in liquor to understand the mistake if I'dexplained it to him, which I didn't. ' He was dressed in whatappeared to be a dark cloth jacket, duck trousers of sea-going cut, and a tarpaulin hat. 'There was just moon enough, ' said theferry-man, 'to let a man take notice of his trousers, they beingwhite; and maybe I took particular notice of his legs, because theywere dripping wet. As for his face, by the glimpse I had of it hewas a middle-aged man that had seen trouble. ' I asked if he wouldknow the man again. He said, 'Yes, ' he was pretty sure he would. So there, Lydia, you have the villain dogging Coffin, tracking him toPercuil, and shamming drunk to get carried over the ferry in pursuit. On Bogue's testimony he was as sober as a judge at St. Mawes, anddrank but one glass of grog there, and from St. Mawes to Percuil isbut a step, mainly by footpath over the fields, with no public-houseon the way. "

"H'm, " said Miss Belcher; "and yet he couldn't have been followingthe man to murder him, or he must have taken more care to cover uphis traces. All his concern seems to have been to follow Coffinwithout being seen by him. Is that all?"

"My dear Lydia, consider the amount of time I've had! Almost beforeI'd finished with Bogue, and certainly before the filly was wellrested, Mr. Goodfellow here had crossed to Falmouth and was backagain, bringing the cupboard--"

"Yes, Jack; you have done very well--surprisingly well. But I'll nothand over my guinea until we've examined the cupboard. Here, Mr. Goodfellow"--she cleared a space amid the breakfast things--"be sogood as to lift it on to the table. Harry, where's the key?"

I produced it. 

"A nice bit of work--and Dutch, by the look of it, " she commented, pausing to admire the inlaid pattern as she inserted the key. She turned it, and the door fell back, askew on its broken hinges. 

Mr. Goodfellow had carried the cupboard with infinite care, but thecontents, I need not say, had mixed themselves up in wild disorder, though nothing was broken--not even the pot of guava-jelly. They included a superannuated watch in a loose silver case, a medal(in bronze) struck to commemorate Lord Howe's famous victory of theFirst of June, two pieces-of-eight and a spade guinea (much clipped);a small china mug painted with libellous portraits of King GeorgeIII. And his consort; a printed pamphlet on Admiral Byng; two stringsof shells; a mourning-ring with a lock of hair set between two pearlsunder glass; another ring with a tiny picture of a fountain and urn, and a weeping willow; a paper containing a baby's caul and a samplerworked with the A. B. C. And the Lord's Prayer and signed "A. C. , 1785;" a gourd, a few glass beads, and a Chinese opium-pipe; andlastly, a thick paper roll bound in yellow-stained parchment. The roll was tied about with string, and the string was sealed, incoarse wax without imprint. 

Miss Belcher dived a hand into a fold of her skirt, and drew forth amost unladylike clasp-knife. 

"Now for it!" said Miss Belcher. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

CAPTAIN COFFIN'S LOG. 

As she severed the string the roll fell open and disclosed itself asa book of small quarto shape, bound in limp parchment, with stringsto tie the covers together. Its pages, measuring 9 and 3/4 by 8 in. , were 64, and numbered throughout; but a bare third of them werewritten on, and these in an unformed hand which yet was eloquent ofmuch. A paragraph would start with every letter drawn as carefullyas in a child's copy-book; would gradually straggle and let its wordsfall about, as though fainting by the way; and so would tail intoincoherence, to be picked up--next day, no doubt--by a new effort, which, after marching for half a dozen lines, in its turn collapsed. There were lacunae, too, when the shaking hand had achieved but a fewweak zigzags before it desisted. The two last pages were scribbledover with sums--or, to speak more correctly, with combinations offigures resembling sums. Here is a single example--

 Ode to W. Bate

 To bacca 9 and 1/2d Haircutt 1s Bliddin[1] . .. .. . 18d. To more bacca Oct. 10th do. Ditto and shave ditto ditto ----------------- Mem. Do. To him 2s. 6d. 

The fly-leaf started bravely with "D. Coffin, His Book. " After thisthe captain had fallen to practising his signature by way of start. "D. Coffin, " "Danl. Coffin, " "Danyel Coffin, " over and over, andonce "D. Coffin, Esq. , " followed by "Steal not this Book for fear ofshame. "

 Danl. Coffin is my name England is my nation Falmth ditto ditto dwelling-place And hopes to see Salvation. 

After these exercises came a blank page, and then, halfway down thenext, abruptly, without title, began the manuscript which I will callCaptain Coffin's statement. 

"Pass it to Lydia, " said Mr. Rogers. "She reads like a parson. "

"Better than most, I hope, " said Miss Belcher, taking the book; andthis--I omit the faults of spelling--is what she read aloud--

Mem. Began this August 15th, 1812. Mem. Am going to tell about the treasure, and what happened. But itwill be no use without the map. If any one tries to bring uptrouble, this is the truth and nothing else. Amen. So be it. Signed, D. Coffin. 

My father followed the sea, and bred me to it. He came fromDevonshire, near Exmouth. N. B. --He used to say the Coffins were agreat family in Devonshire, and as old as any; but it never did himno good. He was an only son, and so was I, but I had an oldersister, now dead. She grew up and married a poultryman in QuayStreet, Bristol. I remember the wedding. Died in childbed a yearlater, me being at that time on my first voyage. 

We lived at Bristol, at the foot of Christmas Stairs, left-hand sidegoing up, two doors from the bottom. My mother from Stonehouse, Gloster, where they make cloth, specially red cloth for soldiers'coats. Her maiden name Daniels. She was a religious woman, andtaught me the Bible. My father was lost at sea, being knockedoverboard by the boom in half a gale, two miles S. W. Of Lundy. I was sixteen at the time, and apprentice as cabin-boy on board thesame ship, the _Caroline_, bound from Hayle to Cardiff with copperore. I went home and broke the news to my mother, and she told methen what I didn't know before, that she was very poorly providedfor. I will say this, that I made her a good son; and likewise, thatI never had no luck till I struck the Treasure. 

I was born in the year 1750. My father's death happened 1766. From that time till my twenty-seventh year, I supported my mother. She died of a seizure in 1777, and is buried by St. Mary's Redclyf--we having moved across the water to that parish. Married next year, Elizabeth Porter, in service with Soames Rennalls, Esquire, Aldermanof the City. She had been brought up an orphan by the ColstonCharity; a good pious woman, and bore me one child, a daughter, christened Ann--a dear little one. She lived and throve up to theyear 1787, me all the time coming and going on voyages, mostlycoasting, too numerous to mention. Then the small-pox carried heroff with my affectionate wife, the both in one week. At which Icursed all things, and for several years ran riot, not caring what Isaid or did. 

Was employed, from 1790 on, in the slave trade, by W. S. , merchant ofBristol. Must have made as many as a dozen passages before leavinghim and shipping on the _Mary Pynsent_, Pink, Bristol-owned by a newcompany of adventurers. She was an old boat, and known to me, butnot the whole story of her. I signed as mate. We were bound for theW. Coast, about 50 leagues E. Of Cape Corse Castle, with gunpowderand old firearms for the natives, that were most always at war withone another. Ran coastwise and touched at three or four places onthe way, and at each of them peddled powder and muskets, the musketsbeing most profitable, by reason the blacks have no notion ofrepairing a gun. So we, carrying a gunsmith on board, bought up atone place the guns that wanted repairs, and sold them at the next fornew pieces. In this way we came to our destination, which was themouth of a river full of slime and mosquitoes, and called the PopoRiver. There a whole tribe of niggers put out to receive us. 

They knew the _Mary Pynsent_, and worse luck. Her last trip, whenowned by Mr. W. S. , aforesaid, she had sold them 1500 kegs of siftedsea-coal dust, passing it off for gunpowder, and had made off with7000 pounds worth of gold dust, besides ivory, _white and black_, before they discovered the trick. We being without knowledge of whathad happened, and having real gunpowder to sell, let the niggersswarm on board, and welcome. Whereupon, in revenge for past usage, they attacked us on the spot and clubbed all the crew but me, thatwas getting out the boat under the seaward quarter and baling her, but dived as soon as the murder began, and swam to the shore. The shore was mudbanks and reeds and mangroves, and all sweating withheat and mosquitoes. I spent that day in hiding. Towards sunset thesavages rafted a good third of the cargo ashore, and, having stackedthe kegs and built a fire about them, started to dance, making asilly mock of the powder, till it blew up. Which it did, and musthave killed hundreds. 

I heard the noise of it at about two miles' distance, having creptout of my hiding when I saw them busy, and started to tramp it alongshore to Cape Corse Castle. I had no food, and must have died butthat next morning I fell in with a tribe that seemed pleased to seeme; which was lucky, me having no strength left to run. They took meto their kraal, a mile inland, and to a hut where was a man lying ina fever. He was a man covered with dirt and vermin, but at firstsight of his face I knew him to be a white man and English. Ever since my first voyage to these parts I carried a small box in mypocket, filled with bark of Peru, which is the best cure for coastfever. I took out some of this bark and managed to make myselfunderstood that I wanted a fire lit and some water fetched; boiled upthe bark and made him drink it. After that I nursed him for threedays before he died. 

The second day he sits up and says in English: "Who are you?"So I told him. Then he says: "Why are you doing this for me?You wouldn't do it if you knew who I am. " "I'd do it, " I said, "ifyou were the devil. " "I am next door to him, " he says. "I amMelhuish, of the Poison Island Treasure. " "I never heard of it, "said I. "There's others call it the Priests' Treasure, " says he;"and if you have never heard of it, you cannot have sailed anywherenear the Bay of Honduras. " "Never in my life, " I said. "My businesshas lain along the coast for years. But what of it?" "What of it?"he says, sitting up, his eyes all shining with the fever, "why, nothing, except that I am one of the richest men in the world. "I set this down to raving. "You don't believe me?" he asks aftersome time. "Why, " I answers him, "this is a funny sort of place fora nabob, and that you must allow; not to mention, " I adds, "that fromhere to Honduras is a long step. " "You fool!" said he, "that is thevery reason of it. I don't believe in a hell on the t'other shore ofthis life, whatever your views may be. You go to sleep and have donewith it--that's my belief. But I believe in hell upon earth, becauseI have lived in it. And I believe in a devil upon earth, because Ilived months in his company; but he can't be as clever as the priestsmake out, because I came here to hide from him, and hidden I have. "

With that he fell into cursing and raving, but after a time he grewquiet again, and said he: "Daniel Coffin, if that is your name, there's hundreds of thousands of men walking this world would envyyou at this moment. And why? Because I can make you richer than anyLord Mayor in his coach; and, what's more, I will. "

He said no more that evening, but next day woke up in his wits, andasked me to slip a hand under his pillow and take out what I foundthere. Which I took out a piece of parchment. He said: "Coffin, Iam going to be as good as my word. That there which you hold in yourhand is a map of the Island of Mortallone, where the treasure lies. I will tell you how I come by it. 

"My home, " he said, "was St. Mary's, in Newfoundland, which is but asmall harbour and a few wood houses gathered about a factory. The factory belonged to a firm at Carbonear, and employed, one wayand another, all the people in the place, in number less than twohundred. The women worked at the fish-curing, along with thechildren and some old men, but the able-bodied men belonged mostly tothe Labrador fleet, or manned a two-three small vessels that maderegular voyages to the Island of St. Jago to fetch home salt for thepickling. My mother, besides working at the factory, kept aboarding-house for seamen. In this she was helped by my only sister, a middle-aged woman and single. My mother was a widow. She kept herhouse very respectable, but the business was slight, the town beingempty of men most of the year. 

"In the autumn of 'ninety-eight, arriving home with salt as usualfrom St. Jago, I found a stranger lodging in the house. He had comeover from Carbonear with a party of clerks, and had taken a fancy tothe place--or so he said; besides which, it had been recommended tohim for his health, which was delicate. He was a common-spoken man, aged between fifty and sixty, and looked like a skipper that hadhauled ashore; but he never talked about the sea in my hearing, andhe never mixed with the few seamen who came to the house. He renteda separate room and kept to it. His habits were simple enough, andhis manner very quiet and friendly, though he spoke as little as hecould help, unless to my sister. My mother liked him because he paidhis way and seemed content with whatever food was put before him. The only thing he complained about was the cold. 

"I had been at home for three weeks and a little more when oneevening, as I was passing downstairs from my bedroom in the attic, this Mr. Shand--that was the name he gave us--called me into his roomand showed me a small bird he had picked up dead on the beach. He did not know its name, and I was too ignorant to tell him. He stood there looking at it under the lamp when my sister cameupstairs with a note and word that the messenger was waiting outsidefor an answer. Mr. Shand took the note and read it under the lamp. Then he turned to the fire, and stood with his back to us for amoment. I saw him drop the note into the fire. He faced round to usagain and said he to my sister: 'Mary, my dear, here is something Iwant you to keep for me. Do not look at it to-night; and when youdo, show it to no one but your brother here. ' With that he gave herthe very packet you have in your hand, shook hands with us both, andwent downstairs. We never saw him again. The weather was thick, with some snow falling, and the snow increased towards midnight. We waited up till we were tired, but he did not return that night orthe next day. Three days later his body was found in a drift ofsnow, halfway down a cliff to the west of the town. The right legand arm were broken and two ribs on the same side. "

I asked: "Who was the man that brought the message?" Melhuish said:"My sister could not tell, except that he was a stranger. She supposed he belonged to one of two ships that had arrived inharbour the day before. She saw nothing of his face to remember; hisjacket-collar being turned up against the snow, and the flaps of hisfur cap pulled down over his ears. "

I asked: "Did the man's chest tell nothing when you came to examineit?" Melhuish said: "Nothing at all. It was full of new clothes, and very good clothes; but they had no mark upon them, and, besidesthe clothes, there was not so much as a scrap of paper. "

He went on: "About two weeks later there called a clerk from thefactory to claim the chest, the firm having acted as Mr. Shand'sagents. He was a foreign-looking man, and older than most of theclerks employed by Davis and Atchison--which was the firm's name. He gave his own name as Martin. He had been sent over from Carbonearabout ten days before to teach the factory a new way of treatingseal-pelts by means of chemicals. We learnt afterwards that heearned good wages. He had brought two hands from the factory tocarry the chest, which we gave up to him as soon as he presented aletter from Mr. Hughes, the firm's chief agent. He said: 'Is thisall you have?' And we said, 'Yes. ' We Kept quiet about the map, which we had examined, but could not make head nor tail of it. He went away with the chest, and we heard no more of the matter. The winter closing in, I took service in the factory. I used to runagainst this Martin almost every day, but being my superior he nevergot beyond nodding to me. 

"So it went on, that winter. The next spring I sailed with thesalting fleet as usual. I was mate by this time, and had learned tonavigate. I came back, to find Martin seated in the parlour andtalking, and my mother told me he had asked my sister to marry him. They had met at the factory and fixed it up between them. He appeared to be very fond of my sister, who was usually reckoned aplain-featured woman, and there couldn't be a doubt she was fond ofhim. Later on, I heard that she had told him all about the chart, but had not shown it to him, being afraid to do so without my leave. 

"He opened the subject himself about a week later, during which Ihad become very thick with him. He said that, in his belief, therewas money in it, and I was a fool not to take it up. I answered, What could I do? He said there was ways and means that a lad ofspirit ought to be able to discover. With that he talked no more ofit that day, but it cropped up again, and by little and little he soworked me up that I took to dreaming of the cursed thing. 

"This went on for another fortnight, during which time he told me adeal about himself, very frank--as that he was the son of an Englishsea-captain and a Spanish woman, and was born in Havana; that he hadbeen educated by the Jesuits, who had meant to make a priest of him;that, not being able to abide the Spaniards, he had chased over toPort Royal and studied chemistry in the college there. It was there, he said, he had discovered a preparation for curing the hides ofanimals so that the hair never dropped off, but remained as firm andfresh as life. He told me that for this secret Davis and Atchisonpaid him better than any of their clerks. 

"At the end of a fortnight he sailed for Carbonear. He returned as Iwas making ready for the summer trip, and laid a scheme before methat took my breath away. He had spoken to Mr. Atchison, the juniorpartner, and engaged a schooner, the _Willing Mind_; likewise a crew. I was to command her, being the only one of the lot that understoodnavigation. For the crew he had picked up a mixed lot at Carbonearand St. John's--good seamen, but mostly unknown to one another. They were the less likely, he said, to smell out our purpose until wereached the island, and for the rest I might trust to him. He hadlaid our plans before Mr. Atchison, who approved. If I listened tohim without arguing, he would make my fortune and my sister's aswell. 

"I had never met a man of his quality before. I was a young fool, yet not altogether such a fool but I had persuaded my sister to handthe map over to me, and wore it always about me. She told me thatshe had shown it twice to Martin, but never for more than two minutesat a time, and had never let it go out of her hands. I wonder nowthat he didn't murder her for it; and the only reason must be that hereckoned to use me for navigating the ship, and then to get rid ofme. 

"A fool I was even to the extent of letting him talk me over when Ifound he had engaged twelve hands for the cruise. There was noreason on earth for this number except that these were the gang afterthe treasure, and that he was playing with the lot of them, same aswith me. 

"The upshot was that we said goodbye to my mother and sister, andcrossed over to Carbonear, where I made acquaintance with my crew. The number of them raised no suspicion in the port, because it wastaken for granted the _Willing Mind_, an old salt ship, was bound forSt. Jago, where ten or a dozen hands are nothing unusual to work thesalt; and this was the argument he had used to make me carry so many. Our pretence was we were all bound for St. Jago, and the crew seemedto take this for understood. I didn't like their looks. Martin saidthey were an ignorant lot, and chosen for that reason. All I had todo was to run south, and he undertook to give them the slip at thefirst point we touched. 

"He had a wonderful command over them, considering that he was butone plotter in a dozen; and for reasons of his own he kept them offme and the map. On our way he proposed to me that I should teach hima little navigation; helped me take the reckonings; and picked it upas easy as a child learns its letters. But his keeping watch over meand the map was what broke up the crew's patience. I was holding theschooner straight down for the Gulf of Honduras, and, by myreckoning, within a few hours of making a landfall, wondering all thewhile that they took the courses I laid without grumbling--though bythis time our course was past all explaining--when the quarrel brokeout. 

"I was standing by the wheel with a seaman, Dick Hayling by name, acivil fellow, and more to my liking than the most of them, when weheard a racket in the forecastle, and by-and-by Martin--he was toofond, to my taste of going down into the forecastle and making freewith the men--comes up the hatchway, very serious, with half a dozenbehind him. 

"'Melhuish, ' says he, 'there's trouble below. The men will have itthat we are steering for treasure. I tell them that, if you are, they are bound to know as soon as we sight it, and neither you norI--being two to twelve--can prevent their having the game in theirown hands. I have told them, over and above this, ' he went on, pitching his voice loud--but having his back towards them he winkedat me--'that by your reckoning we shall sight land in a few hours atthe farthest, and are willing to serve out a double tot of rum; that, as soon as ever land is sighted, you will call all hands aft and tellthem our intention, as man to man; and that then, if they have amind, they can elect whatever new captain they choose. '

"The impudence of this took me fair between wind and water. I saw, of course, that I was trapped, and naturally my first thought was tosuspect the man speaking to me. I looked at him, and he winkedagain, not seeming one bit abashed. 

"'You may tell them, ' said I, with my eyes on his face, 'that as soonas we sight land I shall have a statement to make to them. 'I wondered what it would be; but I said it to gain time. 'As for therum, ' I went on, 'they can drink their fill. If we sight land, Iwill steer the ship in. '

"'Better go and draw the liquor yourself, ' said he, and, picking up aship's bucket, came aft to me. 'The second barrel in the afterhold, 'he whispered. 'And don't drink any yourself. '

"I nodded, as careless as I could. It seemed a rash thing to go downto the afterhold, where any one might batten me down. But, therebeing no help for it, I took the bucket and went. I filled it wellup to the brim from the second cask, returned to deck, and handed itto the man who stood behind Martin. They took it, prettyrespectfully, and went below, Martin still standing amidships, wherehe had stood from the first. 

"'And now, ' said I, turning back to him, 'perhaps you will explain. '

"'Keep your eye on the helmsman, ' was his answer, 'and pistol him ifhe gives trouble. '

"He walked forward and stood leaning over the forehatch, seeming tolisten. " . . . 

[1] Qy. "Bleeding. "

CHAPTER XX. 

CAPTAIN COFFIN'S LOG--CONTINUED. 

Up to this Melhuish had been making good weather of his tale, thoughforced to break off once or twice by reason of his weakness. But here he came to a dead stop, which at first I set down to thesame. But by-and-by I looks up. He was making a curious noise inhis throat, and fencing with both hands to push something away fromhim. 

"I never done it!" he broke out. "Take them away! I never done it!Oh, my God! never--never--never!"

With that he ran off into a string of prayers and cursings, all mixedup together, the fever shaking him like a sail caught head-to-wind, and at every shake he screeched louder. 

"I won't, I won't!" he kept saying. "Hayling, take that devil offand cover them up. The boat, Hayling! Fetch the boat and cover themup!" Then, a little after: "Who says the anchor's fouled? How can Itell for the noise? Tell them, less noise below. I never done it, tell them! And take his grinning face out of the way, or you'llnever get it clear! 'Tisn't Christian burial--look at their fins!D--n them, Hayling, look at their fins! Three feet of sand, orthey'll never stay covered. Who says as I poisoned them?Hayling knows. Where is Hayling?"

I am writing down all I can remember; but there was more--a heap ofit--that I did not catch, being kept busy holding him down till thestrength went out of him and he lay quiet; which he did in time, theshivers running down through him between my hands, and his voicemuttering on without a stop. 

For an hour I sat, hoping he would fall asleep; for his voiceweakened little by little, and by-and-by he just lay and stared up atthe roof, with only his lips moving. After that I must have droppedoff in a doze; for I came to myself with a start, thinking that Iheard him speak to me. It was the rattle in his throat. He lay justthe same, with his eyes staring, but, putting out a hand to him, Iknew at once that the man was dead as a nail. 

I had now to think of myself, for I knew that the niggers in thekraal had not spared me out of kindness, but only that I might attendto the white man, who was their friend. They were even ignorantenough to believe that I had killed him. I worked out my plan: (1) Imust run for it; (2) the village was asleep, and the sooner I ran thebetter; (3) they had met me heading for Cape Corse Castle, and wouldhunt me in that direction--therefore I had best go straight back onmy steps; (4) they were less likely to chase me that way because itled into the Popo country, and Melhuish had told me that these menwere Alampas, and afraid of the Popo tribes. True, if I headed back, there was the river between me and Whydah, the nearest station toeastward; but to get across it I must trust to luck. 

I crept out of the hut. The night was black as my hat, almost, andno guard set. At the edge of the kraal I made a dash for it, andkept running for three miles. After that I ran sometimes, andsometimes walked. The sun was up and the day growing hot when I cameto the shore by the river; and there in the offing lay the _MaryPynsent_ at anchor, just as if nothing had happened, and the boatmade fast alongside as I had left her. If I could swim out and getinto the boat, my job was done. I had not thought upon sharks whileswimming ashore, but now I thought of them, and it gave me thecreeps. I dare say I sat on the shore for an hour, staring at theboat before I made up my mind to risk it. There was a plenty ofsharks, too. When I reached the boat and climbed aboard of her, Itook a look around and saw their fins playing about in the shallows, being drawn off there by the dead bodies the gunpowder had blown intothe water. 

The boat had a mast and spritsail. I reckoned that I would waituntil sunset, then hoist sail and hold on past the river and alongshore towards Whydah. I counted on a breeze coming off shore towardsevening, which it did, and blew all night, so stiff that at twomiles' distance, which I kept by guess, I could smell the stink ofswamps. I ought to say here that, before starting, I had climbedaboard the _Mary Pynsent_ and provisioned the boat. The niggers hadleft a few stores, but the mess on board made me sick. 

The breeze held all night, and towards daybreak freshened so that Ireckoned myself safe against any canoe overtaking me if any shouldput out from shore; for my boat, with the wind on her quarter, wasmaking from six to seven knots. She measured seventeen feet. 

The breeze dried up as the day grew hotter, and in the end I downedsail and rowed the last few miles. I know Whydah pretty well, havinghad dealings there. It is a fine place, with orange-trees growingwild and great green meadows, and rivers chock full of fish, and thewhole of it full of fever as an egg is of meat. The factory therewas kept by an old man, an Englishman, who pretended to be Dutch andcalled himself Klootz, but was known to all as Bristol Pete. The building stood on a rise at the back of the swamps. It had averandah in front, with a tier of guns which he loaded and fired offon King George's birthday, and in the rear a hell of a barracks, where he kept the slaves, ready for dealing. He was turned sixty andgrown careless in his talk, and he lived there with nine wives andten strapping daughters. Sons did not thrive with him, somehow. In the matter of men he was short-handed, his habit being to enticeseamen off the ships trading there to take service with him on thepromise of marrying them up to his daughters. It looked like a goodspeculation, for the old man had money. But every one of the womenwas a widow, and the most of them widowed two deep. The climatenever agreed with the poor fellows, and just now he had over fourhundred slaves in barracks, and only one son-in-law, an Englishman, to look after them. 

The old man made me welcome. A father couldn't have shown himselfkinder, and when I told him about the _Mary Pynsent_ he could scarcecontain himself. 

"If there's one thing more than another I enjoy at my age, " said he, "'tis a salvage job. "

And he actually left the agent--A. G. --in charge of the slaves forthree days, while he and I and three of the women took boat and wentafter the vessel. We found her still at her moorings, and broughther round to Whydah, he and me working her with the youngest of thethree (Sarah by name), while the two others cleaned ship. I cannotsay why exactly, but this woman appeared superior to her sisters, besides being the best looking. The old man--he had an eye liftingfor everything--took notice of this almost before I knew it myself, and put it to me that I couldn't do better than to marry her. The woman, being asked, was willing. She had lost two husbandsalready, she told me, but the third time was luck. Her father readthe service over us, out of a Testament he always carried in hispocket. As for me, since my poor wife's death I had thoroughly givenmyself over to the devil, and did not care. Old Klootz wasfirst-rate company, too; though living in that forsaken place heseemed to be a dictionary about every ship that had sailed the seasfor forty years past, and to know every scandal about her. He listened, too, though he seemed to be talking in his full-heartedway all the time. And the end was that I told him about Melhuish, and showed him the map. 

He had heard about Melhuish, as about everything else; but the mapdid truly--I think--surprise him. We studied it together, and hewound up by saying--

"There's a clever fellow somewhere at the bottom of this, and Ishould like to make his acquaintance. "

Said I: "Then you believe there is such a treasure hidden?"

"Lord love you, " said he, "I know all about that! It happened in theyear '86 at Puerto Bello. A Spaniard, Bartholomew Diaz, that hadbeen flogged for some trouble in the mines, stirred up a revolt amongthe niggers and half-breeds, and came marching down upon the coastat the head of fourteen thousand or fifteen thousand men, sacking theconvents and looting the mines on his way. He gave himself out to besome sort of religious prophet, and this brought the blacks likeflies round a honey-pot. The news of it caught Puerto Bello at amoment when there was not a single Royal ship in the harbour. The Governor lost his head and the priests likewise. Getting wordthat Diaz was marching straight on the place, and not five leaguesdistant, they fell to emptying the banks in a panic, stripping thechurches, and fetching up treasure from the vaults of the religioushouses. There happened to be a schooner lying in the harbour--the_Rosaway_, built at Marblehead--lately taken by the Spaniards offCampeachy, with her crew, that were under lock and key ashore, waiting trial for cutting logwood without licence. The priestscommandeered this Vessel and piled her up with gold, the Governorsending down a guard of soldiers to protect it; but in the middleof the night, on an alarm that Diaz had come within a mile of thegates, the dunderhead drew off half of this guard to strengthen thegarrison. On their way back to the citadel these soldiers were metand passed in the dark by the _Rosaway's_ crew, that had managed tobreak prison, and in the confusion had somehow picked up thepassword. Sparke was the name of _Rosaway's_ skipper, a Marbleheadman; the mate, Griffiths, came from somewhere in Wales; the rest, five in number, being likewise mixed English and Americans. They picked up a shore-boat down by the harbour, rowed off to theship, got on board by means of the password, and within twentyminutes had knocked all the Spaniards on the head, themselves losingonly one man. Thereupon, of course, they slipped cable and stood outto sea. Next morning the _Rosaway_ hadn't been three hours out ofsight before two Spanish gun-ships came sailing in from Cartagena, having been sent over in a hurry to protect the place; and one ofthem started in chase. The _Rosaway_, being speedy, got away for thetime, and it was not till three weeks later that the Spaniards randown on her, snug and tight at anchor in a creek of this same islandof Mortallone. She was empty as a drum, and her crew ashore in apretty state of fever and mutiny. The Spaniards landed and took thelot, all but the mate Griffiths, that was supposed to have beenknifed by Sparke, but two of the prisoners declared that he was aliveand hiding. They hanged four, saving only Sparke, keeping him toshow where the treasure was hidden. He led them halfway across theisland, lured them into a swamp, and made a bolt to escape, and thetale is he was getting clear off when one of the Spanish seamen letfly with his musket into the bushes and bowled him over like arabbit. It was a chance shot, and of course it put an end to allhope of finding the treasure. They ransacked the island for a weekor more, but found never a dollar; and before giving it up someinclined to believe what one of the prisoners had said, that thetreasure had never been buried in Mortallone at all, but in theisland of Roatan, some leagues to the eastward. But, if you ask myopinion, the stranger that took lodgings with Melhuish was the mateGriffiths, and no other. There has always been rumours that he gotaway with the secret. Know about it?" said old Klootz. "Why, therewas even a song made up about it--

 "'O, we threw the bodies over, and forth we did stand Till the tenth day we sighted what seemed a pleasant land, And alongst the Kays of Mortallone!'"

From the first the old man had no doubt but we had struck the secret. All the way home he was scheming, and the very night we reachedWhydah again he came out with a plan. 

"Have you ever read your Bible?" said he. 

"A little, " I said, "between whiles; but latterly not much. "

"The more shame to you, " said he, "for it is a good book. But youought to have heard of Noah, if you ever read the Book at all, for hecomes almost at the beginning. Well, I've a notion almost as good asNoah's and not so very different. We will take the _Mary Pynsent_and put all the family on board, for we must take A. G. (naming theEnglishman, his other son-in-law), and I don't like to leave thewomen alone, here in this wicked place. We will pack her up withslaves and sail her across to Barbadoes. 'Tis an undertaking for aman of my years, but a man is not old until he feels old; and I havebeen wanting for a long time to see if trade in the Barbadoes is sobad as the skippers pretend, cutting down my profits. At Barbadoeswe can hire a pinnace. Daniel Coffin, you and me will go into thisbusiness in partnership, " says he. 

The old fellow, once set going, had the pluck of a boy. The verynext night he called in A. G. , and took him into the secret, in hisbluff way overriding me, that was for keeping it close between ustwo. That the map was mine did not trouble him. He agreed that Ishould be guardian of it, but took charge of all the outfit, orderingme about sometimes like a dog, though, properly speaking, the vesselherself belonged to me--or, at any rate, more to me than to him. As for A. G. , he didn't count. We filled up and weighed anchor onAugust 12, having on board 420 blacks--290 men and 130 women--allchained, and all held under by us twenty-two whites, of the whichnineteen were women. The weather turned sulky almost from the start, and after ten days of drifting, with here and there a fluke of wind, we found ourselves off the Gaboon river. From this we crept our wayto the Island of St. Thomas, three days; watered there, and fetcheddown to the south-east trades. The niggers were dying fast, andbetween the south-east and north-east trades, six weeks from ourstarting, we lost between one and two score every day. I will saythat all the women worked like horses. We reached Barbadoes short ofour complement by 134 negroes and one of Klootz's wives. This lastdid not trouble him much. 

He kept mighty cheerful all the way, although the speculation up tonow had turned out far from cheerful; and all the way he kept singingscraps about the Kays of Mortallone in a way to turn even a healthyman sick. I had patched up a kind of friendship with A. G. , and weallowed that, for all his heartiness, the old man was enough tomadden a saint. The slaves we landed fetched about nineteen poundson an average. They cost at starting from two pounds to threepounds; but the ones that had died at sea knocked a hole in theprofits. 

At Barbadoes Klootz left the womenfolk in a kind of boarding-house, and hired a pinnace, twenty tons, to take us across to the main, pretending he wanted to inquire into the market there. Klootz and Imade the whole crew, with A. G. , who could not navigate. January 17, late in the afternoon, we ran down upon Mortallone Island andanchored off the Kays, north of Gable Point. Next morning we outwith the boat and landed. Time, about three-quarters of an hourshort of low water. 

The Kays are nothing but sand. At low water, and for an hour beforeand after, you can cross to Gable point dry-shod. We spent that daygetting bearings; dug a little, but nothing to reward us. Next daywe got to work early. Had been digging for two hours, when we turnedup the first body. It turned A. G. Poorly in the stomach, and he satdown to watch us. Half an hour later we struck the first of thechests. It did not hold more than five shillings' worth, and we sawthat somebody had been there before us. 

The third day we turned up three more bodies, besides two chests, empty as before, and a full one. We stove it in, emptied the stuffinto the boat, and made our way back to the ship. 

The fourth day we had scarcely started to dig before Klootz struck ona second chest that sounded like another full one--

Here Miss Belcher turned a page, glanced overleaf, and came to a fullstop. 

"For pity's sake, Lydia--" protested Mr. Rogers, who sat leaningforward, his elbows on the table. 

"There's no more, " Miss Belcher announced. 

"No more?"

"Not a word. " She fumbled quickly through the remaining blankleaves. "Not a word more, " she repeated. 

"Death cut short his hand, " said Captain Branscome, his voicebreaking in upon a long silence. 

"Cut short his fiddlestick-end!" snapped Miss Belcher. "The manfunked it at the last moment--started out promising to tell the wholetruth, but refused the fence. Look back at the story, and you cansee him losing heart. Just note that when he comes to A. G. --that'sthe man Aaron Glass, I suppose--he dares not write down the man'sname. There has been foul work, and he's afraid of it. That's asplain as the nose on my face. "

"But what's to be done?" asked Mr. Rogers, picking up the manuscriptand turning its pages irritably. 

"Dear me, " said a voice, "there is surely but one thing to be done!We must go and search for ourselves. "

We all turned and stared at Plinny. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

IN WHICH PLINNY SURPRISES EVERYONE. 

Everybody stared; and this had the effect of making the dear goodcreature blush to the eyes. 

"I beg your pardon, ma'am?" said Mr. Jack Rogers. 

"It--it was not for me to say so, perhaps. " Her voice quavered alittle, and now a pair of bright tears trembled on her lashes; butshe kept up her chin bravely and seemed to take courage as she wenton. "I am aware, sir, that in all matters of hazard and enterpriseit is for the gentlemen to take the lead. If I appear forward--if Ispeak too impulsively--my affection for Harry must be my excuse. "

Mr. Rogers stared at Captain Branscome, and from Captain Branscome toMr. Goodfellow, but their faces did not help him. 

"That's all very well, ma'am, but an expedition to the other end ofthe world--if that's what you suggest?--at a moment's notice--onwhat, as like or not, may turn out to be a wild-goose chase--Lordbless my soul!" wound up Mr. Rogers incoherently, falling back in hischair. 

"I was not proposing to start at a moment's notice, " replied Plinny, with extreme simplicity. "There will, of course, be many details toarrange; and I do not forget that we are in the house of mourning. The poor dear Major claims our first thoughts, naturally. Yes, yes;there must be a hundred and one details to be discussed hereafter--ata fitting time; and it may be many weeks before we find ourselvesactually launched--if I may use the expression--upon the bosom of thedeep. "

"_We?_" gasped Mr. Rogers, and again gazed around; but we others hadno attention to spare for him. "_We?_ Who are 'we'?"

"Why, all of us, sir, if I might dare to propose it; or at least asmany as possible of us whom the hand of Providence has somysteriously brought together. I will confess that while you weretalking just now, discussing this secret which properly speakingbelongs to Harry alone, I doubted the prudence of it--"

"And, by Jingo, you were right!" put in Miss Belcher. 

"With your leave, ma'am, " Plinny went on, "I have come to thinkotherwise. To begin with, but for Captain Branscome the map wouldnever have found its way to the Major's room, where Harry discoveredit; but might--nay, probably would--have been stolen by the wickedman who committed this crime to get possession of it. Again, but forMr. Goodfellow this written narrative would undoubtedly have beenlost to us, and the map, if not meaningless, might have seemed a cluenot worth the risk of following. In short, ma'am"--Plinny turnedagain to Miss Belcher--"I saw that each of us at this table had beenwonderfully brought here by the hand of Providence. And from this Iwent on to see, and with wonder and thankfulness, that here was asecret, sought after by many evildoers, which had yet come into thekeeping of six persons, all of them honest, and wishful only to dogood. Consider, ma'am, how unlikely this was, after the many bold, bad hands that have reached out for it. And will you tell me thathere is accident only, and not the finger of Providence itself?At first, indeed, we suspected Captain Branscome and Mr. Goodfellow:they were strangers to us, and, as if that we might be tested, theycame to us under suspicion. " Here Mr. Goodfellow put up a hand anddubiously felt his nose, which was yet swollen somewhat from hisfirst encounter with Mr. Rogers. "But they have proved theirinnocence; Harry gives me his word for them; and I do not think, "said Plinny, "that you, ma'am, can have heard Captain Branscome'sstory without honouring him. "

Miss Belcher, thus appealed to, answered only with a grunt, at thesame time shooting from under her shaggy eyebrows an amused glance atthe Captain, who stared at the table-cloth to hide his confusion, which, however, was betrayed by a pair of very red ears. 

"All this, " pursued Plinny, "I saw by degrees, and that it wasmarvellous; but next came something more marvellous still, for I sawthat if one had gone forth to choose six persons to carry out thisbusiness, he could not have chosen six better fitted for it. "

From the effect of this astounding proposition Miss Lydia Belcher wasthe first to recover herself. 

"Thank you, my dear, " she murmured; "on behalf of myself and thecompany, as they say. It is true that in all these years I haveoverlooked my qualifications for a buccaneering job; but I'll thinkthem out as you proceed. "

"Oh!" exclaimed Plinny, "I wasn't counting on you, ma'am, toaccompany this expedition; nor on Mr. Rogers. You are great folks ascompared with us, and have public duties--a stake in the country--great wealth to administer. Yet I was thinking that, while we areabroad, there may happen to be business at home requiring attention, and that we may perhaps rely on you--who have shown so much interestin this sad affair. "

"Meaning that we have been dipping our fingers pretty deep into thispie. Well, and so we have; and thank you again, my dear, for puttingit so delicately. "

"But I meant nothing of the sort--indeed I didn't!" protested Plinny. 

"Tut, tut! Of course you didn't, but it's the truth nevertheless. Well, then, it appears that Jack Rogers and I are to be thespotsmen[1] for this little expedition, and that you and CaptainBranscome, and Mr. Goodfellow, and--yes, and Harry, too, I suppose--are to be the Red Rovers and scour the Spanish Main. All right; onlyyou don't look it, exactly. "

"But is not that half the battle?" urged the indomitable Plinny. "They'll be so much the less likely to suspect us. "

"They--whoever they may be--will certainly be so far deluded. "

"And really--if you will consider it, ma'am--what I am proposing isnot ridiculous at all. For what is chiefly wanted for such anadventure? In the first place, a ship--and thank God I have means tohire one, in the second place, a trustworthy navigator--and here, bythe most unexpected good fortune, we have Captain Branscome; in thethird place, a carpenter, to provide us with shelter on the islandand be at hand in case of accident to the vessel--and here is Mr. Goodfellow; while as for Harry--" Plinny hesitated, for the momentat a loss; then her face brightened suddenly. "Harry can climb atree, and the instructions on the back of the map point to this asnecessary. Harry will be invaluable!"

I could have wrung her hand; but Plinny, having finished herjustification of the ways of Providence, had taken off her spectaclesand was breathing on them and polishing them with a small silkhandkerchief which she ever kept handy for that purpose. 

"Captain Branscome, " said Miss Belcher, sharply, "will you be so goodas to give us your opinion?"

Captain Branscome lifted his head. "My mind, if you'll excuse me, ma'am, works a bit slowly, and always did. But there's no denyingthat Miss Plinlimmon has given the sense of it. "

"Hey?"

"To be sure, " said the Captain, tracing with his finger an imaginarypattern on the table-cloth, "her courage carries her too far--as inthis talk about hiring a ship. A ship needs a crew; a crew thatcould be trusted on a treasure-hunt is perhaps the most difficult tofind in the whole world; and when you've found one to rely upon, yourtroubles are only just beginning. The main trouble is with the ship, and that's what no landsman can ever understand. A ship's the mostpublic thing under heaven. You think of her, maybe, as somethingthat puts out over the horizon and is lost to sight for months. But that helps nothing. She must clear from a port, and to a portsooner or later she must return; and in both ports a hundred curiouspeople at least must know all about her business. 

"I don't say that a ship, once out of sight, cannot be made awaywith--though even that, with a crew to tell tales, has beaten some ofthe cleverest heads; but to take out a ship and fill her up withtreasure, and bring her home _and unload her without any one'sknowing_--that's a feat that (if you'll excuse me) I've heard ahundred liars discuss at one time and another; and one has said itcan be done in this way, and another in that, but never a one in myhearing has found a way that would deceive a child. "

"Yet you said, a moment since, that Miss Plinlimmon had given thesense of it?"

"I did, ma'am. I am saying that to fetch this treasure will bedifficult, even if we find it--"

"You don't doubt its existence?"

"I do not, ma'am. I doubt it so little, ma'am, that I would tentimes sooner engage to find than to fetch it. But I don't evendespair of fetching it, if the lady goes on being as clever as shehas begun. "

"What?" exclaimed Plinny. "I? Clever?"

"Yes, indeed, ma'am, " Captain Branscome answered, still in a slow, measured voice. "But, indeed, too, I might have been prepared for itwhen you started by taking a line that beats all my experience oflandsmen; or perhaps in this case I ought to say lands_ladies_. "

"Why, what have I done that is wonderful?"

"You took the line, ma'am, that, from here to Honduras, what is itbut a passage? A few months at the most--oh, to be sure, to a seamanthat's no more than nature; but to hear it from any one land-bred, and a lady too! As a Christian man, I have believed in miracles, but to-day I seem to be moving among them. And after your saying_that_, I had no call to be surprised when you up and suggested a waythat would have taken a seaman twenty years to hit upon! I am nottalking about the ship, ma'am. That part of your plan (if you'llallow me, as a seaman, to give an opinion) won't work at all. But the plan in general is a masterpiece. "

"But I do not see, " Plinny confessed, with a small puckering of thebrows, "that I have suggested anything that can be called a plan. "

"Why, ma'am, you have been talking heavenliest common sense, and onceyou've started us upon common sense there's no such thing as adifficulty. 'Let us go to the island, ' you said; and with that at astroke you get rid of the worst danger we have to fear, which issuspicion. For who's to suspect such a company as this present, orany part of it, of being after treasure? 'Let us make it a pleasuretrip, ' said you, or words to that effect; and what follows but thatthe whole journey is made cheap and simple? We book our passages inthe Kingston packet. Peace has been declared with France, and whatmore natural than that a party of English should be travelling to seethe West Indies? Or what more likely than that, after what hashappened, the doctor has advised a sea-voyage, to soothe your mind?As for me, I am Harry's tutor; every one in Falmouth knows it, andthinks me lucky to get the billet. It won't take five minutes toexplain Mr. Goodfellow here, just as easily--"

"And as for me, " struck in Miss Belcher, "I'm an old madwoman, withmore money than I know what to do with. And as for Jack Rogers, I'meloping with him to a coral island. "

Mr. Rogers checked himself on the edge of a guffaw. 

"But, I say, Lydia, you're not serious about this?" he asked. 

"I don't know, Jack. I rather think I am. I'm getting an old woman, mad or not; and the hours drag with me sometimes up at the house. But"--and here she looked up with one of those rare smiles that setyou thinking she must have been pretty in her time--"there's thisadvantage in having followed my own will for fifty years: that no oneany longer troubles to be surprised at anything I may do. You're something of an eccentric yourself, Jack. You had better jointhe picnic. "

"I ought to warn you, ma'am, " said Captain Branscome gravely, "thatalthough the West India route has been fairly well protected for somemonths now, there _is_ a certain amount of risk from Americanprivateers. "

"The Americans are a chivalrous nation, I have always heard. "

"Extremely so, ma'am; nevertheless, there is a risk, in the event ofthe packet being attacked. But I was about to say, " pursued CaptainBranscome, "that our being at war with America may actually help usto get across from Jamaica to the island. Quite a number of oldColonial families--loyalists, as we should call them--have beendriven from time to time to cross over from the Main and settle inthe West Indies. But of course they have left kinsfolk behind themin the States; and, in spite of wars and divisions, it is no unusualthing for relatives to slip back and forth and visit one another--secretly, you understand. I have even heard of an old lady, now oruntil lately residing in St. Kitts, who has made no less than elevensuch voyages to the Delaware--whenever, in short, her daughter wasexpecting an addition to her family. "

"Good, " said Miss Belcher. "I have found some one to impersonate;and that settles it. "

"I really think, ma'am, " said Captain Branscome, "that, once inJamaica, we shall have no difficulty in finding, at the western endof the island, just the ship we require. "

"Bless my soul!" said Miss Belcher. "Except for the sea-voyage, itmight be a middle-aged jaunt in a po'-shay!"

[1] Miss Belcher was here employing a smuggling term. A "spotsman"is the agent who arranges for a run of goods, and directs theoperation from the shore, without necessarily taking a part in it. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

A STRANGE MAN IN THE GARDEN. 

Indeed, the longer we weighed the pros and cons the more feasibleappeared the simple adventure. We ran, to be sure, the risk of beingwaylaid on our passage by an American privateer; but this was adanger incident to all who sailed on board his Majesty's Post Officepackets in the year 1814. That anything was to be feared from theman Glass, none of us (I believe) stopped to consider. We thought ofhim only as a foiled criminal, a fugitive from justice, andspeculated only on the chance that, with the hue-and-cry out and thewhole countryside placarded, the Plymouth runners would lay him bythe heels. 

Undoubtedly he had made for Plymouth. From Torpoint came news that aman answering to his description had crossed the ferry there on themorning after the murder. The regular ferryman there had steppedinto a public-house for his regular morning glass of rum-and-water;and in his absence the small boy who acted as substitute had taken astranger across. The stranger, who appeared to be in a sweatinghurry, had rewarded the boy with half a crown; and the boy, rowingback to the Torpoint side and finding his master still in the tavern, had kept his own counsel and the money. Now the hue-and-cry hadfrightened him into confessing; and his description left no doubtthat the impatient passenger was Aaron Glass. 

Such a man had been observed, about two hours later, mingling in afish auction on the Barbican; and had actually bidden for a boatloadof mackerel, but without purchasing. From the auction he had walkedaway in the direction of Southside Street; and from that point alltrace of him was lost. 

Mr. Rogers, who had posted straight to Plymouth from the inquest, spent a couple of days in pushing inquiries here, there andeverywhere. But not even the promise of a clue rewarded him. Two foreign-going vessels and four coasters had sailed from the porton the morning after the murder. The coasters were duly met, boarded, and searched at their ports of arrival--two at Liverpool, one at Milford, and one at Gravesend--but without result. If, asseemed likely, the man had contrived to ship himself on board the_Hussar_ brig, bound for Barcelona, or the _Mary Harvey_ barque, forRio, the chances of bringing him to justice might be considered nil, or almost nil; for Mr. Rogers had some hope of the _Hussar_ beingovertaken and spoken by a frigate which happened to be starting, twodays later, to join our fleet in the Mediterranean. 

During the week or two that followed my father's funeral little wassaid of our expedition, although I understood from Plinny that thestart would only be delayed until she and the lawyers had proved thewill and put his estate in order for me. My father's pension had, ofcourse, perished with him; but he left me a small sum in the funds, bearing interest between fifty and sixty pounds per annum, togetherwith the freehold of Minden Cottage. Unfortunately, he had appointedno trustees, and I was a minor; and even more unfortunately his willdirected that Minden Cottage should be sold "within a reasonablybrief time" after his death, and that the sum accruing should beinvested in Government stock for my benefit; and with this littletangle to work upon, our lawyers--Messrs. Harding and Whiteway, ofPlymouth--and the Court of Chancery, soon involved the small estatein complications which (as Miss Belcher put it) were the moreannoying because the fools at both ends were honest men and trying todo the best for me. 

Of this business I understood nothing at the time, save that itcaused delay; and I mention it here only to explain the delay andbecause (as will be seen) the sale of Minden Cottage, when at lengththe Lord Chancellor was good enough to authorize it, had a veryimportant bearing on the rest of my story. 

Meanwhile, Captain Branscome had, of course, returned to Falmouth, and would book our passages on the Kingston packet as soon as myaffairs allowed. We received letters from him from time to time, andon Saturdays and Mondays a passing call from Mr. Goodfellow, on hisway to and from Plymouth. He had stipulated that, before sailingwith us, he should take his inamorata into his confidence; and thiswas conceded after Miss Belcher had taken the opportunity of a day'smarketing in Plymouth to call at the dairy-shop in Treville Streetand make the lady's acquaintance. 

"A very sensible young person, " she reported; "and of the two I'dsooner trust her than Goodfellow to keep a still tongue. There's nodanger in _that_ quarter!"

Nor was there, as it proved. Mr. Goodfellow told us that he couldhardly contain himself whenever he thought of his prospects; "for, "said he, "I was born a parish apprentice; in place of which here I beat the age of twenty with two fortunes waiting for me, one at eachend of the world. "

At length, in the last week of July, Messrs. Harding and Whitewayannounced that all formalities were complete; and three days later abill appeared on the whitewashed front of Minden Cottage announcingthat this desirable freehold residence with two and a half acres ofland would be sold by public auction on August 6, at 1. 30 o'clockp. M. , in the Royal Hotel, Plymouth. Any particulars not mentioned inthe bills would be readily furnished on application at the officeof the vendor's solicitors; and parties wishing to inspect thepremises might obtain the keys from Miss Belcher's lodge-keeper, Mr. Polglaze--that is to say, from the nearest dwelling-house downthe road. 

Plinny, with the help of half a dozen of Miss Belcher's men and acouple of waggons, had employed these three days in removing ourfurniture to the great cricket pavilion above the hill; an excellentstorehouse, where, for the time, it would remain in charge of Mr. Saunders, the head keeper. We ourselves removed to the shelter ofMiss Belcher's lordly roof, as her guests; and Ann, the cook, to acottage on the home farm, where that lady--who usually superintendedher own dairy--had offered her the post of _locum tenens_ until ourreturn from foreign travel. By the morning when the bill-poster cameand affixed the notice of sale, Minden Cottage stood dismantled--amelancholy shell, inhabited only by memories for us, and for ourcountry neighbours by mysterious ghostly terrors. 

This was one of the many grounds on which we agreed that the LordChancellor had acted foolishly in insisting upon a public auction. His lordship, to be sure, could not be expected to know that recentevents had utterly depreciated the selling value of Minden Cottageover the whole of the south and east of Cornwall; that thehomeward-trudging labourer would breathe a prayer as he neared italong the high-road in the dark, and would shut his eyes and run byit, nor draw breath until he reached the lodge, down the road; thatquite a number of Christian folk who had been used to envy my fatherthe snuggest little retreat within twenty miles would now haverefused a hundred pounds to spend one night in it. So it was, however; and the chance of an "out"-bidder might be passed over asnegligible. On the other hand, Miss Belcher had offered Messrs. Harding and Whiteway a handsome and more than sufficient price forthe property. She wanted it to round off her estate, out of which, at present, it cut a small cantle and at an awkward corner. Moreover, if Miss Belcher had not come forward, Plinny was preparedto purchase. That Miss Belcher would acquire the place no onedoubted. Still, a public sale it had to be. 

Early in the afternoon of the 5th, she left us for Plymouth, to makearrangements for the bidding. I did not see her depart, having beenoccupied since five in the morning in a glorious otter-hunt, forwhich Mr. Rogers had brought over his hounds. The heat of the dayfound us far up-stream, and a good ten miles from home; and by thetime Mr. Rogers had returned his pack to Miss Belcher's hospitablekennels the sun was low in the west. I know nothing that will make aman more honestly dirty than a long otter-hunt, followed by aperspiring tramp along a dusty road. From feet to waist I was a cakeof dried mud overlaid with dust. I had dust in my hair, in thecreases of my clothes, in the pores of my skin. I needed ablutionfar beyond the resources of Miss Belcher's establishment, which, totell the truth, left a good deal to seek in the apparatus of personalcleanliness; and, snatching up the clean shirt and suit of clotheswhich the ever-provident Plinny had laid out on the bed for me, I randown across the park to the stream under the plantation. 

Little rain had fallen for a month past, and, arriving at the pool onwhich I had counted for a bath, I found it almost dry. While I stoodthere, in two minds whether to return or to strip and make the bestof it, I bethought me that--although I had never bathed there in mylife, the stream would be better worth trying where it ran throughthe now deserted garden of Minden Cottage, below the summer-house. The bottom might be muddy, but the dam which my father had builtthere secured a sufficiency of water in the hottest months. I picked up my clothes again, and, following the stream up to thelittle door in the garden wall, pushed open the rusty latch, andentered the garden. 

The hour, as I have said, was drawing on to dusk; and though, perhapsI ought to say, I am by nature not inclined to nervousness (or I hadnot ventured so near that particular spot), yet scared enough I was, as I stepped on to the little foot-bridge, to see a man standing bythe doorway of the summer-house. 

For an instant a terror seized me that it might be a ghost--or, worse, the man himself, Aaron Glass. But a second glance, as Ihalted on a hair-trigger--so to speak--to turn and run for my life, assured me that the man was a stranger. 

He wore a suit of black, and a soft hat of Panama straw with a broadbrim, and held in his hand a something strange to me, and, indeed, asyet almost unknown in England--an umbrella. It had a dusky whitecovering, and he held it by the middle, as though he had been engagedin taking measurements with it when my entrance surprised him. 

It appeared to me for the moment that I had not only surprised himbut frightened him, for the face he turned to me wore a yellowishpallor like that of old ivory. Yet when he drew himself up andspoke, I seemed to know in an instant that this was his naturalcolour. The face itself was large and fleshy, with bold, commandingfeatures: a face, on second thoughts, impossible to connect withterror. 

"Hallo, little boy! What are you doing in this garden?"

I answered him, stammering, that I was come to bathe; and while Ianswered I was still in two minds about running; for his voice, appearance, bearing, all alike puzzled me. He spoke genially, withsomething foreign in his accent. I could not determine his age atall. At first glance he seemed to be quite an old man, and not onlyold but weary; yet he walked without a stoop, and as he came slowlyacross the turf to the bridge-end I saw that his hair was black andglossy, and his large face unwrinkled as a child's. 

"Not after the plums, eh?"

"No, sir; and besides, " said I, picking up my courage, "there's noharm if I am. The garden belongs to me. "

"So?" He regarded me for some seconds, his hands clasping theumbrella behind his back. The sight of the bundle of black clothes Icarried apparently satisfied him. "Then you have right to askwhat brings me here. I answer, curiosity. What became of the manwho did it?" he asked, with a glance over his shoulder towards thesummer-house. 

"Nobody knows, sir, " I answered, recovering myself. 

"Disappeared, hey?"

"Yes, sir. "

"I fancy I could put my hand on him, " he said very coolly, after apause. And I began to think I had to deal with a madman. 

"Suppose, now, that I do catch him, " he went on after a pause. "What shall I do with him? In my country--for I live a great wayoff--we either choke a murderer or cut off his head with a knife. "

I told him--since he waited for me to say something--how in Englandwe disposed of our worst criminals. 

"No, you don't, " said he quietly. "You let some of the worst go, andthe very worst (as you believe) you banish to an island, treatingthem as the old Romans treated theirs. Now, I'm a traveller; andwhere do you suppose I spent this day month?"

I could not give a guess. 

"Why, on the island of Elba. I'm curious, you know, especially inthe matter of criminals, so I came--oh, a tremendous way--to have alook at Napoleon Bonaparte, there. Now I'll tell you another thing, he's going to escape in a month or two, when his plans are ready. I had that from his own lips; and, what's more, I heard it again inParis a week later. From Paris I came across to London, and fromLondon down to Plymouth, and from Plymouth I was to have travelledstraight to Falmouth, to take my passage home, when I heard of whathad happened here, and that the house was for sale. So I stopped tohave a look at it; for I am curious, I tell you. "

He went on to prove his curiosity by asking me a score of questionsabout myself: my age, my choice of a profession, my relatives (I toldhim I had none), and my schooling. He drew me (I cannot rememberhow) into a description of Plinny, and agreed with me that she mustbe a woman in a thousand; asked where she lived at present, andregretted--pulling out his watch--that he had not time to make heracquaintance. Oddly enough, I felt when he said it that this was noidle speech, but that only time prevented him from walking up thehill and paying his respects. I felt also, the longer we talked, Iwill not say a fear of him, for his manner was too urbane to permitit, but an increasing respect. Crazed he might be, as his questionswere disconnected and now and again bewildering, as when he asked ifmy father had travelled much abroad, and again it I really preferredto remain idle at home instead of returning to finish my educationwith Mr. Stimcoe; but his manner of asking compelled an answer. I could not tell myself if I liked or disliked the man, he differedso entirely from any one I had ever seen in my life. His questionswere intimate, yet without offence. I answered them all, with asense of talking to some one either immensely old or divided from meby hundreds of miles. 

In the midst of our talk, and while he was pressing me with questionsabout Mr. And Mrs. Stimcoe, he suddenly lifted his head, and stoodlistening. 

"Hallo!" said he. "Here's the coach!"

I had heard nothing, though my ears are pretty sharp. But sureenough, though not until a couple of minutes had passed, the wheelsof the _Highflyer_, our evening coach to Plymouth, sounded far alongthe road. 

The stranger pulled out a bunch of keys from his pocket. 

"I will ask you as a favour, " said he, "to return these to thelodge-keeper, from whom I borrowed them. Will you be so kind?"

I said that I would do so with pleasure. 

"I have been over the house. It appears--the lodge-keeper tells me--that I have been almost the only visitor to inspect it. That's queer, for I should have thought that to an amateur in crime--with a taste for discovery--it offered great possibilities. But never mind, child, " said this strange man, and shook hands. "I have great hopes of finding the scoundrel, and of dealing withhim. Eh? 'How?' Well, if we get him upon an island, he shan't getaway, like Napoleon. "

With these words, which I did not understand in the least, he turnedand left me, passing out into the lane by the side-gate. A minutelater I heard the coach pull up, and yet a minute later roll onagain, conveying him towards Plymouth. I stole a glance at thewater, at the summer-house, at the tree behind it. Somehow in thetwilight they all wore an uncanny look. On my way home--for Idecided to return and take my bath in the house, after all--my mindkept running on a story of Ann the cook's, about a man (a relative ofhers, she said) who had once seen the devil. And yet the strangerhad tipped me a guinea at parting, nor was it (except metaphorically)red hot in my pocket. 

Next evening Miss Belcher rode back to us from Plymouth with theannouncement that Minden Cottage was hers. She had not attended thesale in person, but Maddicombe, her lawyer, had started the bidding(under her instruction) at precisely the sum which she had privatelyoffered Messrs. Harding and Whiteway. There was no competition. In fact, Maddicombe reported that, apart from the auctioneers andhimself, but six persons attended the sale. Of these, five werelocal acquaintances of his whom he knew to be attracted only bycuriosity. Of the sixth, a stranger, he had been afraid at first, but the man appeared to be a visitor, who had wandered into the saleby mistake. At any rate, he made no bid. 

"What sort of man?" I asked. 

"As to that, Maddicombe had no very precise recollection, or couldn'tput it into words. A tall man, he said, and dressed in black; anoticeable man--that was as far as he could get--and, he believed, aforeigner. "

CHAPTER XXIII. 

HOW WE SAILED TO THE ISLAND. 

The business of the sale concluded, we had nothing to detain us, andan order was at once sent to Captain Branscome to book our passagesin the next packet for the West Indies. Meanwhile we held longdiscussions on details of outfit, for since our impedimenta includedtwo moderately heavy chests--the one of guns and ammunition, theother of spades, picks, hatchets, and other tools--and since onreaching Jamaica we must take a considerable journey on muleback, itwas important to cut our personal luggage down to the barestnecessities. We did not forget a medicine-chest. 

On August 28 we received word from Captain Branscome that he hadtaken berths for us on the _Townshend_ packet, commanded by an oldfriend of his, a Captain Harrison. She was due to sail on the 1st. Accordingly, on August 30 we travelled down by Royal Mail toFalmouth, Mr. Rogers following that same noon by the _Highflyer_;spent a busy day in making some last purchases, and a sleepless nightin the noisiest of hotels; and went on board soon after breakfast, tobe welcomed there by Mr. Goodfellow, who had got over his partingthree days before, at Plymouth, and professed himself to be in thevery jolliest of spirits. At the head of the after-companion CaptainBranscome met us and conducted us below, to introduce us to ourquarters and be complimented on the thought and care he had bestowedin choosing them and fitting them up--for the ladies' comfortespecially. He himself lodged forward, in a small double cabin whichhe shared with Mr. Goodfellow. 

I will spare the reader a description of our departure and of thepassage to Jamaica, not only because they were quite uneventful (wedid not even sight a' privateer), but because they have beencelebrated in verse by Plinny, in a descriptive poem of five cantosand some four thousand lines, entitled "The Voyage: with anEnglishwoman's Reflections on her Favourite Element, " a few extractsfrom which I am permitted to quote--

 "We sailed for Kingston in the _Townshend_ packet. The day auspicious was, and calm the heavens; Not so the scene on board--oh, what a racket! And everything on deck apparently at sixes and sevens. Mail-bags and passengers mixed up in every direction, The latter engaged with their relatives in fond farewells; On the one hand the faltering accents of affection, On the other the unpolisht seamen emitting yells, With criticisms of a Custom House official Whose action for some reason they resented as prejudicial. 

 "At length the last farewell is said, The anchor tripped, the gangway clear'd; 'Twas five p. M. Ere past Pendennis Head Forth to th' unfathomable deep we steer'd. The bo'sun piped (he wore a manly beard); And while th' attentive crew the braces trimm'd (Alluding to the ship's), and while from observation The coast receded, we with eyes be-dimm'd Indulged in feelings natural to the situation. 

 "Albion! My Albion! So called from the hue Thy cliffs wear by the Straits of Dover-- Though darker in this neighbourhood--still adieu! Albion, adieu! I feel myself a rover. Thy sons instinctively take to the water, And so will I, albeit but a daughter. "

A page later, in more tripping metre (which reflects her gaiety ofspirits), she describes the ship--

 "The _Townshend_ Packet is a gallant brig Of one hundred and eighty tons; 'Tis the Postmaster-General's favourite rig, And she carries six useful guns. As she sails, as she sails With his Majesty's mails, Hurrah for her long six-pounders! They relieve our fear Of a privateer, But what shall we do if she founders? I prefer not to think of any such contingency: She has excellent sailing qualities, And her captain appears to rule with stringency And to be averse from minor frivolities. With the late Admiral Nelson he may not provoke comparison. But one and all place implicit confidence in Captain Harrison. "

While Plinny cultivated the Muse--and with the more zest as, to herpride and delight, she found herself immune from sea-sickness--I keptup, through the long mornings, the pretence of studying mathematicswith Captain Branscome, and regularly at noon received a lesson intaking the ship's bearings. Our fellow-voyagers were mostlymerchants and agents bound for Jamaica, the trade of which hadrevived since the restoration of peace; and among them we passed fora well-to-do family travelling partly for pleasure to visit theisland, but partly also with an idea of buying a plantation andsettling there--which explained the presence of Mr. Goodfellow. 

Our captain justified the confidence so poetically expressed above. He sailed his ship along steadily, taking no risks, and after apleasant passage of thirty-six days brought her to anchor in CarlisleBay, Barbadoes, where we were due to deliver some bags of mails. I have said that the trip was uneventful; it was even withoutincident save for some fooleries on reaching the Line, and suchtrifling distractions as an unsuccessful attempt to shoot analbatross, and the sighting of some flying-fish and sundrylong-tailed birds which the sailors called boatswains. But, asPlinny wrote--

 "Life at sea has a natural monotony Of which 'twere irrational to complain: You cannot, for instance, study botany As in an English country lane. But the mind is superior to distance With its own reminiscences stored, Not to mention the spiritual assistance We derived from a clergyman on board. "

(He was a sallow young man of delicate constitution, and, partly forhis health's sake, had accepted the pastorate of a Genevan church inKingston. )

From Barbadoes we beat up for Jamaica, and anchored in KingstonHarbour just forty-five days from home. The next morning we saidfarewell to the ship, and were rowed ashore to a good hotel, where wespent a lazy week in email excursions, while Captain Branscome busiedhimself in hiring a mule-train and holding consultations with a firmof merchants, Messrs. Cox and Roebuck, to whom Miss Belcher camerecommended with a letter of credit. These gentlemen, understandingthat we desired to cross over to the Main to visit some relations ofMiss Belcher resident in Virginia (for that was our pretence), opinedthat the matter was not difficult of management, but that we mustneeds travel to the extreme west of the island if we would hire avessel for the purpose, and they mentioned an agent of theirs atSavannah-la-Mar--Jacob Paz by name--as the likeliest man for ourpurpose. 

Armed with a letter of introduction to this man, in the early morningof October 22 we started on muleback, and, travelling without hastethrough the exquisite scenery of Jamaica (the main roads of which putours of Cornwall to shame), arrived at Savannah-la-Mar on the 27th, agreat part of the way having been occupied by Miss Belcher (who hatedthe sight of a negro) in rebuking Plinny's sentimental objections toslavery, and by Mr. Rogers in begging a collection of humming-birds. 

It took (I believe) some time at Savannah-la-Mar to convince Mr Paz, a subtle half-breed, that we were actually fools enough to wish topurchase one of his vessels, and mad enough to propose workingher alone. He had three boats idle, including a pretty littlefore-and-aft schooner of thirty tons, the _Espriella_, which CaptainBranscome had no sooner set eyes upon than he decided to be the verything for our purpose. She was fitted with a large ladies' cabin aftof the companion, a saloon, and a small single-berth cabin between itand the fo'c's'le, which would house three men comfortably. We endedby purchasing her for three hundred and seventy pounds; and into thefo'c's'le I went with Mr. Goodfellow and Mr. Jack Rogers, whoinsisted on resigning the spare cabin to Captain Branscome--henceforward, or until we should reach the island, by consent theleader of the expedition. 

So on October 30, at six in the morning, after being commended to Godby Mr. Paz, we worked out of Savannah-la-Mar, and, having gained anoffing with a light breeze, hoisted all her bits of canvas, even to alight jib-topsail we found on board--chiefly, I think, to impressher late owner, whom we could descry on the shore, watching us. He had steadfastly refused to believe us capable of handling a boat, whereas of our party Plinny and Mr. Goodfellow were the onlylandlubbers. Miss Belcher could take the helm with the best of us, and indeed it was reported of her that she had on more than oneoccasion played helmswoman to a run of goods upon her own Cornishestate. Mr. Jack Rogers had once owned a yacht and sufferedfrom tedium; now, as a foremast hand, he was enjoying himselfamazingly. 

But the pride above all prides was Captain Branscome's. After manyyears he trod a deck again, commander of his own ship; and thebearing of the man was that of a prince restored after long exileto his kingdom. Courteous as ever to the ladies, to the rest of ushe behaved as a master, noble but severe, unwearied in explaining theleast minutiae of seamanship, inexorable in seeing that his smallestinstruction was obeyed. Mr. Rogers at the end of the first dayconfided to me that he had much ado to refrain from touching hisforelock whenever he heard the skipper's voice. 

I shall not be believed if I say that in all the five days ofour voyage Captain Branscome never snatched a wink of sleep. Doubtless he did sleep, between whiles; but doubtless also no one sawhim do it. 

It was daybreak or thereabouts on the morning of November 5--and afaint light coming through the decklight over the fo'c's'le--when I, that had kept the middle watch and was now snoring in my bunk, sat upat a touch on my shoulder, and stared, rubbing my eyes, into the dimface of Mr. Goodfellow. 

"Skipper wants you on deck, " he announced. "We've lifted somethingon the starboard bow, and he swears 'tis the Island. "

CHAPTER XXIV. 

WE ANCHOR OFF THE ISLAND. 

The word fetched me out of my bunk like a shot from a gun. I ranpast him, scrambled up the fo'c's'le ladder, and gained the deck intime to see Miss Belcher emerge from the after-companion upon thedawn, her hair in a "bun, " her bare feet thrust into loose feltslippers, her form wrapped in a Newmarket overcoat closely buttonedover her _robe de nuit_. 

"The Island, ma'am!" announced Captain Branscome from the helm; and, turning there by the fo'c's'le hatch and following the gesture of hishand, I descried a purplish smear on the southern horizon. To me itlooked but a low-lying cloud or a fogbank. 

"I'll take your word for it, " answered Miss Belcher, calmly. "You have timed it well, Captain Branscome. "

"Under Providence, ma'am, " the Captain corrected her, and called tome to take the wheel while he fetched out his chart and unrolled itfor her inspection. "We are running straight down upon the northernend of it, and our best anchorage (if I may suggest) lies to thesouth'ard--in Gow's Creek, as they call it. "

He laid a finger on the chart. 

"We rely upon you, sir, to choose. "

"I thank you, ma'am. If (as I doubt not) we find plenty of waterthere, it will be the best anchorage in this breeze; not to mentionthat this Gow's Creek runs up, as we are directed, to within a mileand a half of the No. 3 _cache_. If you agree, ma'am, I have only toask your instructions whether to coast down the east or the west sideof the Island. The wind, you perceive, serves equally well forboth. "

Miss Belcher considered for a moment. 

"The Keys lie to the west of Gable Point, here. By taking that sidewe can have a look at them on our way. "

"Right, ma'am. Harry!"--he turned to me--"bring her nose round tosou'-west and by south, and stand by for the gybe. " He hauled in themain-sheet and eased it over. "Now, see here, lad, " he called to mesharply as the little vessel yawed: "where were your eyes just then?"

"I was taking a look at the land-fall, sir, " I answered truthfully. 

"Then I'll trouble you to fix your mind on the lubber's-mark and holdher straight. That's discipline, my boy, and in this business youmay want all you can learn of it. "

It was not Captain Branscome's habit to speak sharply. I turned myattention to the card, conscious of a pair of red ears. 

The sky brightened, and within an hour, as we ran down upon it atsomething like eight knots, the Island began to take shape. A wisp of morning fog floated horizontally across it, dividing itsshore-line from the hills in the interior, which, looming above thiscloudy base, appeared considerably higher than, in fact, they were. The shore itself along the eastern side showed almost uniformlysteep--a line of reddish rock broken with patches of green, which wemistook for meadows (but they turned out to be nothing more or lessthan sheets of green creepers matted together and overhanging thecliffs). At its northern extremity, upon which we were closing downat an acute angle, the land dropped to a low-lying, sandy peninsulawith a backbone of rock almost bare of vegetation, and beyond this wesaw the white surf glittering around the Keys. 

Our course gave them a fairly wide berth; and at first I took themfor a continuous line of sandbanks running in a rough semicirclearound the low spit which the chart called Gable Point; but as wedrew level they broke up into islets, with blue channels between, andat sight of us thousands of sea-birds rose in cloud upon cloud, witha clamour that might have been heard for miles. One of these banks--the northernmost--showed traces of herbage, grey in colour and dullby contrast with the verdure of the Island. The rest were but barrensand. 

We rounded them at about three cables' length and stood due south, giving sheet again. Southward from the neck of the peninsula thiswestern side of the Island differed surprisingly from the other. Here were no cliffs, but a flat shore and long stretches of beach, gradually shelving up to green bush, with here a palmetto grove andthere a lagoon of still water within the outer barrier of sand. Mr. Jack Rogers had relieved me at the helm, and with the Captain'spermission I had stepped below to the saloon, where Plinny waswaiting to give me breakfast, and persuaded the good soul not only tolet me carry it on deck and eat it there, but to postpone washing-upfor a while and accompany me. To this she would by no means consentuntil I had brought her the Captain's leave. 

"You may take her my leave, " said he, with a sudden flush on his face, "and my apologies for having neglected to request the honour of hercompany. The fact is, " he added, with a hard glance at me, "MissPlinlimmon's sense of discipline is so rare a thing that I am alwaysforgetting to do justice to it. Were it possible to find a wholecrew so conscientious I would undertake to sail to the North Pole. "

I conveyed this answer to Plinny, and it visibly gratified her. She retired at once to the ladies' cabin to indue her poke-bonnetwith coquelicot trimmings. Her apron she retained, observing that onan expedition of this sort one should never be taken at unawares, andthat when at Rome you should do as the Romans did. "By which, mydear Harry, " she explained, "you are not to understand me to refer totheir Papist observances, such as kissing a man's toe. Were such arequest proffered to me even at the cannon's mouth, I trust mycourage would find an answer. 'No, no, ' I would say, "'I will not bow within the House of Rimmon: Yours faithfully, Amelia Plinlimmon. '"

As we reached the head of the companion-ladder Captain Branscome, whowas standing just aft of the wheel, behind Mr. Rogers's shoulder, andscanning the shore through his glass, made a motion to step forwardand hand her on deck. This was ever his courteous way, and I turneda moment later in some surprise, to find that, instead of closing theglass, he had lifted it, and was holding it again to his eye, at thesame time keeping his right shoulder turned to us. 

While we looked, he lowered it and made his bow, yet with somethingof a preoccupied air. 

"Good morning, ma'am. You are very welcome on deck, and I trust thatHarry conveyed the apology I sent by him. "

"I beg you will not mention it, sir. It is true that I suffered fromthe curiosity which outspoken critics have called the bane of my sex;yet, believe me, I was far from accusing you, knowing how manyresponsibilities must weigh on the captain of an expedition, eventhough it fare as prosperously as ours. "

"True, ma'am, " Captain Branscome tapped his spyglass absent-mindedly, and seemed on the point of lifting it again. "Though, with yourpermission, I will add 'D. V. '"

"Yes--yes"--Plinny smiled a cheerful approval--"we are ever in theDivine Hand; not more really, perhaps, in the tropics than in thosemore temperate latitudes when, though the wolf and lion do not howlfor prey, an incautious step upon a piece of orange-peel has beforenow proved equally fatal. "

Captain Branscome bowed again. 

"You call me the leader of this expedition, Miss Plinlimmon; and so Iam, until we drop anchor. With that, in two or three hours atfarthest, my chief responsibility ends, and I think it time"--heturned to Mr. Rogers--"that we made ready to appoint my successor. I shall have a word to say to him. "

"Nonsense, man!" answered Mr. Rogers, looking up from the wheel. "If you mean me, I decline to act except as your lieutenant. You have captained us admirably; and if I decline the honour, youwill hardly suggest promoting Harry, here, or Goodfellow!"

"I was thinking that Miss Belcher, perhaps--"

"Hallo!" said Miss Belcher, turning at the sound of her name, andcoming aft from the bows, whence she had been studying the coastline. "What's the matter with _me?_"

"The Captain, " exclaimed Mr. Rogers, "has been tendering us hisresignation. "

"Why?"

"Mr. Rogers misunderstands me, ma'am, " said Captain Branscome. "I merely said that, so far as we have agreed as yet, My authorityceases an soon as we cast anchor. If you choose to re elect me, Ishall not say 'No'--though not coveting the honour; but I can onlysay 'Yes' upon a condition. "

"Name it, please. "

"That I have every one's implicit obedience. I may--nay, I shall--give orders that will be irksome and at the same time hard tounderstand. I may be unable to give you my reasons for them; or ableto give you none beyond the general warning that we are aftertreasure, and I never yet heard of a treasure-hunt that waschild's-play. "

He spoke quietly, but with an impressiveness not to be mistaken, though we knew no cause for it. Miss Belcher, at any rate, did notmiss it. She shot him a keen glance, turned for a moment, and seemedto study the shore, then faced about again, and said she--

"I am not used to be commanded. But I can command myself, and am notaltogether a fool. "

The Captain bowed. "I was thinking, ma'am, that might be ourdifficulty. But if I have your word to try--"

"You have. "

"I thank you, ma'am, and will own that my mind is relieved. It mayeven be that, from time to time, I may do myself the honour ofconsulting you. Nevertheless--"

"I mustn't count on it, eh? Well, as you please; only I warn youthat, while in any case I am going to be as good as my word, if youtreat me like a sensible person I shall probably be a trifle better. "

For ten seconds, maybe, the pair looked one another in the eyes; thenthe Captain bowed once more, and apparently this invited her to stepforward with him to the bows, where they halted and stood conning thecoast, the Captain through his spyglass. 

As they left us, Plinny and I moved to the waist of the ship, wherewe paused by consent, and I resumed my breakfast, munching it as Ileaned against the port bulwarks. We were now rapidly opening LongBay (as the chart called it), a deep recess running out squarely ateither extremity, the bight of it crossed by a beach, and a line oftumbling breakers, that extended for close upon three miles. Above the beach a forest of tall trees, in height and colour at oncedistinguishable from the thick bush we had hitherto been passing, screened the bases of a range of hills which obviously formed thebackbone of the island; and as the whole bay crept into view wediscerned in the north (or, to be accurate, N. N. E. ) corner of thislong recess a marshy valley dividing the scrub from the forest. The mouth of this valley, where it widened out upon the beach, measured at least half a mile across. The chart marked it as MiserySwamp, and indicated a river there. We could detect none, or, at anyrate, no river entrance. If river there were, doubtless it emptiedits waters through the fringe of grey-green weeds, and dispersed overthe flat-looking foreshore; but even at two miles' distance it lookedto be a dismal, fever-haunted spot. 

By contrast, the noble range of woodland to southward of it and therocky peaks that rose in delicate shadow above the tree-tops werebeautiful as a dream, even to eyes fresh from the forest scenery ofJamaica; and while Plinny leant with me against the bulwarks, I feltthat in the silence immortal verse was shaping itself, which it didafter a while to this effect--

 "Arrived o'er the limitless ocean In 16 degrees of N. Latitude, Our lips were attuned to devotion, Our spirits uplifted in gratitude. 

 "Our hearts with poetic afflatus Took wing and impulsively soared As the lead-line (a quaint apparatus) Reported the depth overboard. 

 "Oh, oft had I dream'd of the tropics-- But never to see them in person-- So full of remarkable topics To speculate, sing, and converse on. "

It was Mr. Goodfellow who worked the hand-lead, under CaptainBranscome's orders, from a perch just forward of the main rigging;but at a mile's distance we carried deep water with us past CrabtreePoint, and around the unnamed small cape which formed thesouth-western extremity of the island. We rounded this, and, hauling up to the wind, found (as the reader may discover for himselfby a glance at the chart) that the shore made almost directly E. ByN. , with scarcely an indentation, for Gow's Gulf. 

Here the water shoaled, though for the first mile almostimperceptibly. The inlet itself resembled the estuary of a mightyriver, its both sides well wooded, though very different inconfiguration, the northern rising quietly from shelving beaches ofcoral-white sand to some of the most respectable hills in the island, while that on our starboard hand presented a succession of cliff andchasm, the cliffs varying, as we judged, from two hundred to twohundred and fifty feet sheer. 

In three and a half fathoms (reported by Mr. Goodfellow) the water, which was exquisitely clear, showed good white sand under us. Ahead of us the creek narrowed, promising an anchorage almostcompletely landlocked and as peaceful as the soul of man coulddesire. We drew a short eight feet of water, and with such soundings(for the tide had not been making above an hour) I expected the oldman to hold on for at least another mile, when, to my surprise, hetook the helm from Mr. Rogers and, sending him forward, shook the_Espriella_ up in the wind, at the same time calling to Goodfellowand me to lower the main throat-halliards. 

"Leave go anchor!"

With a splash her anchor plunged over, took the ground, and inanother twenty yards brought us up standing. 

"Hallo!" Miss Belcher scanned the shore. "You're giving the boats along trip, Captain. "

"I take my precautions, ma'am, " answered Captain Branscome, almostcurtly. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

I TAKE FRENCH LEAVE ASHORE. 

In a sweating hurry I helped Mr. Rogers and Mr. Goodfellow to furlsail, coil away ropes, and tidy up generally. After these tediousweeks at sea I was wild for a run ashore, and, with the green woodsinviting me, grudged even an hour's delay. 

We had run down foresail and come to our anchor under jib andhalf-lowered mainsail. I sprang forward to take in the jib and carryit, with the foresail, to the locker abaft the ladies' cabin, whenCaptain Branscome sang out to me to be in no such hurry, but to foldand stow both sails neatly without detaching them--the one along thebowsprit, the other at the foot of the fore-stay, when they could bere-hoisted at a moment's notice. 

These precautions were the more mysterious to me because a momentlater he sent me to the locker to fetch up a tarpaulin cover for themainsail, which he snugged down carefully, to protect it (as heexplained) from the night dews--so carefully that he twiceinterrupted Mr. Goodfellow to correct a piece of slovenly tying. The sail being packed at length to his satisfaction, we laced thecover about it carefully as though it had been a lady's bodice. 

Our next business was to get out the boats. The _Espriella_possessed three--a gig, shaped somewhat like a whaleboat; a useful, twelve-foot dinghy; and a small cockboat, or "punt" (to use our WestCountry name), capable, at a pinch, of accommodating two persons. This last we carried on deck; but the larger pair at the foot of therigging on either side, whence we unlashed and lowered them by theirfalls. The punt we moored by a short painter under the bowsprit, sothat she lay just clear of our stem. 

This small job had fallen to me by the Captain's orders, and Iclambered back, to find him and Mr. Rogers standing by theaccommodation ladder on the port side, and in the act of steppingdown into the dinghy. Indeed, Mr. Rogers had his foot on the ladder, and seemed to wait only while the Captain gave some instructions toMr. Goodfellow, who was listening respectfully. 

"Are we all to go ashore in the dinghy?" I asked. 

The Captain turned on me severely, and I observed that he and Mr. Rogers had armed themselves with a musket apiece, each slung on abandolier, and that Mr. Rogers wore an axe at his belt. 

"Certainly not, " said the Captain. "Mr. Rogers and I are going onshore to prospect, and I was at this moment instructing Mr. Goodfellow that nobody is to leave the ship without leave from me. "

"But--" I began, and checked myself, less for fear of his anger thanbecause I was actually on the verge of tears. I looked around forthe ladies, but they had retired to their cabin. Oh, this washard--a monstrous tyranny! And so I told Mr. Goodfellow hotly as thedinghy pushed off and, Mr. Rogers paddling her, drew away up thecreek and rounded the bend under the almost overhanging trees. 

"When are they coming back?" I demanded. 

"Captain didn't say. "

"You seem to take it easily, " I flamed up; "but _I_ call it aburning shame! Captain Branscome seems to think that this Islandbelongs to him; and you know well enough, if it hadn't been for me, he'd never have set eyes on it. What are you going to do?"

"Smoke a pipe, " said Mr. Goodfellow, "and watch the beauties o'Nature. "

"Well, I'm not, " I threatened. "Captain Branscome may be a very goodseaman but he's too much of an usher out of school. This isn'tStimcoe's. "

"Not a bit like it, " assented Mr. Goodfellow, feeling in hispockets. 

"And if he thinks he can go on playing the usher over me, he'll findout his mistake. Why, look you, whose is the treasure, properlyspeaking? Who found it?"

"Nobody, yet. "

Mr. Goodfellow drew forth a pipe and rubbed the bowl thoughtfullyagainst his nose. 

"Well, then, who found the chart? Who put you all on the scent?Who was it first heard the secret from Captain Coffin? And this mandoesn't even consult me--doesn't think me worth a civil word!I'll be shot if I stand it!" I wound up, pacing the deck in myrage. 

Just then Plinny's voice called up to us from the cabin, announcingthat dinner was ready. 

"But, " said she, "one of you must eat his portion on deck while hekeeps watch; that was Captain Branscome's order. "

"More orders!" I grumbled; and then, with a sudden thought, Inodded to Mr. Goodfellow, who was replacing his pipe in his pocket. "_You_ go. Hand me up a plate and a fistful of ship biscuit, andleave me to deal with 'em. I'm not for stifling down there underhatches, whatever your taste may be. "

"'Tis a fact, " he admitted, "that a meal does me more good when Isquare my elbows to it. "

"Down you go, then, " said I; "and when you're wanted I'll call you. "

He descended cheerfully, reappeared to pass up a plate, and descendedagain. I gobbled down enough to stay my appetite, crammed my pocketfull of ship biscuit, and, after listening for a moment at thehatchway, tiptoed forward and climbed out upon the bowsprit. Then, having unloosed the cockboat's painter, I lowered and letmyself drop into her, and, slipping a paddle into the stern-notch, sculled gently for shore. 

The _Espriella_, of course, lay head-to-tide, and the tide by thistime was making strongly--so strongly that I had no time to getsteerage way on the little boat before it swept her close under theopen porthole through which I heard Miss Belcher inviting Mr. Goodfellow to pass his plate for another dumpling. Miss Belcher'svoice--as I may or may not have informed the reader--was a baritoneof singularly resonant _timbre_. It sounded through the porthole asthrough a speaking trumpet, and I ducked and held my breath as theboat's gunwale rubbed twice against the schooner's side beforedrifting clear. 

Once clear, however, I worked my paddle with a will, thoughnoiselessly; and, the tide helping me, soon reached and rounded thefirst bend. Here, out of sight of the ship, I had leisure to drawbreath and look about me. 

Ahead of me lay a still reach, close upon half a mile in length, andnarrowing steadily to the next bend, when the two shores overlappedand mingled their reflections on the water. On my right the redcliffs, their summits matted with creepers, descended sheer intowater many fathoms deep, yet so clear that I could spy the fishplaying about their bases where they met the firm white sand. On my left the channel shoaled gradually to a beach of this samewhite sand, which followed the curve of the shore, here and againflashing out into broad sunshine from the blue shadow cast by theoverhanging forest. 

Between these banks the breeze could scarcely be felt, yet, thoughthe sun scorched me, the heat was not oppressive. The woods, denseand tangled though they were, threw up no exhalations of mud orrotting leaves, but a clean, aromatic odour. It seemed to give thema substance without which they had been but a mirage, a scene paintedon a cloth, so motionless and apparently lifeless they stood, withthe long vines hanging from their boughs, and the hot, rarefied airquivering above them. 

At first their silence daunted me; by-and-by I felt (I could hardlybe said to hear) that this silence was intense, and held a sound ofits own, a murmur as of millions of flies and minute winged things--or perhaps it came from the vegetation itself, and the sap pushingleaf against leaf and ceaselessly striving for room. 

With scarcely more noise than the forest made in growing, I let thecockboat float up on the tide, correcting her course from time totime with a touch of the paddle astern; and so coming to thesecond bend, began to search the shore for a convenient landing. The Captain and Mr. Rogers, no doubt, had rowed up to the very headof the creek, and would by this time be prospecting for the clump oftrees which were the key to unlock No. 3 cache. To escape--or, atany rate, delay--detection, I must land lower down, and preferably atsome point where I could pull up the boat and hide it. 

With this in my mind, scanning the woods on the north bank for anopening, I drifted around the bend, and with a shock of surprisefound myself in full view of the end of the creek. Worse than this, I was bearing straight for the _Espriella's_ dinghy, which lay justabove water on the foreshore, with her painter carried out to a treeabove the bank. Worst of all, some one at that instant stepped backfrom the bank and under the shadow of the tree, as if to await methere. . . . Mr. Rogers, or the Captain? . . . Mr. Rogers certainly;for I remembered that the Captain wore white duck trousers, and, bymy glimpse of him, this man's clothes were dark. His height andwalk, too! Yes; no doubt of it, he was Mr. Rogers. 

I stood--a culprit caught red-handed--and let the boat drift me downupon retributive justice. A while ago I had been mentally composinga number of effective retorts upon Captain Branscome for histyrannical behaviour. Now, of a sudden, all this eloquence desertedme: I felt it leaking away and knew myself for a law-breaker. One lingering hope remained--that the Captain had pushed ahead intothe woods, and that, as yet, Mr. Jack Rogers (whose good nature Imight almost count upon) had alone detected me and would pack me hometo the ship with nothing worse than a flea in my ear. 

His silence encouraged this hope. Half a minute passed and still heforbore to lift his voice and summon me. He stood, deep in theshadow, his face screened by the boughs, and made no motion toadvance to the bank. 

Then suddenly--at, maybe, two hundred yards' distance--I saw him takeanother pace backwards and slip away among the trees. 

"Good man!" thought I, and blessed him (after my first start ofastonishment). "He has pretended not to see me. "

At any rate he had given me a pretty good hint to make myself scarceunless I wished to incur Captain Branscome's wrath. I slipped mypaddle forward into a rowlock, picked up the other, and, droppingupon the thwart, jerked the cockboat right-about-face to head herback for the schooner. 

But after a stroke or two I easied and let her drift backstern-foremost while I sat considering. Mr. Rogers had behaved likea trump; yet it seemed mean to deceive the old man; and, moreover, itamounted to striking my colours. I had broken orders deliberatelyand because I denied his right to give such orders. I might be ayoungster; but, to say the least of it, I had as much interestin the success of this expedition as any member of the company. The shortest way to dissuade Captain Branscome from treating me as achild was to assert myself from the beginning. I had started withfull intent to assert myself, and--yes, I was much obliged to Mr. Rogers, but this question between me and Branscome had best besettled, though it meant open mutiny. I felt pretty sure that MissBelcher would support the tyrant; almost equally sure that Plinnywould acquiesce, though her sympathy went with me; and strangelyenough, and unjustly, I felt the angrier with Plinny. But evenagainst Miss Belcher I had a card to play. "Captain Branscome may bean excellent leader, " I would say; "but I beg you to remember thatyou gave me no vote in electing him. I will obey any leader I havemy share in choosing, but until then I stand out. " And I had aninkling that, though the public voice would be against me, I shouldestablish my claim to be taken into any future counsels. 

"In for a lamb, in for a sheep, " thought I, and began to back thecockboat towards the corner where the dinghy lay. As I did so itoccurred to me to wonder why the Captain and Mr. Rogers had been sodilatory. They must have started a full hour ahead of me; they hadleft the schooner at a brisk stroke, whereas I had merely floated upwith the tide. Yet either I had all but surprised them in the act ofstepping ashore, or, if they had landed at once, why had Mr. Rogersloitered on the bank until I was close on overtaking him?

They had landed at the extreme head of the creek. Therefore(I argued) their intent was to follow up the stream here indicated onthe chart and search for the clump of trees which guarded the secretof No. 3 _cache_. 

Sure enough, having beached my boat alongside the dinghy and climbedthe green knoll above the foreshore, I spied their footprints on thesandy edge of the stream which here fetched a loop before joining thetidal waters of the creek. They led me along a flat meadow ofexquisitely green turf, fringed with palmetto-trees, to the entranceof a narrow gorge through which the stream came tumbling in a seriesof cascades, spraying the ferns that overhung it. The forest withits undergrowth pressed so closely upon either bank that afterscrambling up beside the first waterfall I was forced to take offshoes and stockings and work my way up the irregular bed, now wadingknee-deep, now clambering or leaping from boulder to boulder; and, even so, to press from time to time through the meeting boughs, shielding my face from scratches. So, for at least a mile, I climbedas through a narrow green tunnel, and at the end of it found myselfwet to the skin. Five waterfalls I had passed, and, beside thefourth, where the bank was muddy, had noted a long, smooth mark, andrecent, such as a man's foot might make in slipping; so that I feltpretty confident of being on my companions' track, though I wonderedhow the Captain, with his lame leg, could sustain such a climb. 

But above the fifth waterfall the stream divided into two branches, and at the fork of them I stood for a while in doubt which to choose. So far as volume of water went, there was, indeed, little or nothingto choose. If direction counted, the main stream would be that whichcame rushing down the gorge straight ahead of me--a gorge which, however, as my eye followed the V of its tree-tops up to thesky-line, promised to grow steeper and worse tangled. On the otherhand, the tributary (as I shall call it), which poured down from alateral valley on my left, ran with an easier flow, as though drawingits waters from less savage slopes. I could not see these slopes--abend of the hills hid them; but I reasoned that if a clump of trees, separate and distinguishable, stood anywhere near the banks ofeither stream, it might possibly be found by this one. The othershowed nothing but a close mass of vegetation. 

Accordingly I turned my steps up the channel to the left, and wasrewarded, after another twenty minutes' scramble, by emergingupon a break in the forest. On one side of the stream rose areddish-coloured cliff, almost smooth of face and about seventy oreighty feet high, across the edge of which the last trees on thesummit clutched with their naked roots, as though protestingagainst being thrust over the precipice by the crowd behind them. The other bank swelled up, from a little above the water's edge, to afair green lawn, rounded, grassy, and smooth as a glade in an Englishpark. At its widest I dare say that, from the stream's edge back tothe steep slope where the forest started again and climbed to a tallridge that shut in the glen on the south side, it measured somethingover two hundred yards. 

"Here, " thought I, glancing up the glade towards the westering sun, "is the very spot for our clump of, trees;" and so it was--only noclump of trees happened to be in sight. The glade, however, stretched away and around a bend of the stream, and I was moving tothe bank to explore it to its end when my eyes were arrested bysomething white not ten paces away. It was a piece of paper caughtagainst one of the large boulders between which, as through a brokendam, the water poured into the ravine. I waded towards it andstooped, steadying myself against the current. 

It was a paper boat. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE WOMEN IN THE GRAVEYARD. 

I turned it over in my hand. Yes; it was a boat such as childrenmake out of paper, many times folded, and "What on earth, " thought I, "put such childishness into the head of Captain Branscome or Mr. JackRogers?"

Then it occurred to me that they might be caught in some peril higherup the stream, and had launched this message on the chance of itsbeing carried down to the waters of the creek. A far-fetchedexplanation, to be sure! But what was I to think? If it were theexplanation, doubtless the paper contained writing, and, carrying itto the bank, I seated myself and began to unfold it very carefully;for it was sodden, and threatened to fall to pieces in my hands. Then I reflected that the two men carried no writing materials, or, at the best, a lead pencil, the marks of which would be obliteratedbefore the paper had been two minutes in the water. 

Yet, as I parted the folds, I saw that the paper had indeed beenscribbled on, though the words were a smear; and, moreover, that thewriting was in ink!

In ink! My fingers trembled and involuntarily tore a small rent inthe pulpy mass. I laid it on the grass to dry in the full sunshine, seated myself beside it, and looked around me with a shiver. 

A paper boat--the paper written on--and the writing in ink! I couldbe sworn that neither Captain Branscome nor Mr. Rogers carried aninkbottle. The paper, too, was of a kind unfamiliar to me; thin, foreign paper, ruled with faint lines in watermark. Certainly no oneon board the _Espriella_ owned such writing-paper or the like of it. But again, the paper could not have been long in the water, and thewriting seemed to be fresh. As the torn edges crinkled in the heatand curled themselves half-open, I peered between them anddistinguished a capital "R, " followed by an "i"; but these lettersran into a long smear, impossible to decipher. 

I had flung myself prone on the grass, and so lay, with chin proppedon both palms, staring at the thing as if it had been some strangebeetle--staring till my eyes ached. But now I took it in my fingersagain and prised the edges a little wider. Below the smear came ablank space, and below this were five lines ruled in ink with anumber of dotted marks between them. . . . A smudged stave of music?Yes, certainly it was music. I could distinguish the mark of thetreble clef. Lastly, at the foot of the page, as I unwrapped it atlength, came a blurred illegible signature. 

But what mattered the sense of it? The writing was here, and recent. No one on board the _Espriella_ could have penned it. The island, then, was inhabited--now, at this moment inhabited, and theinhabitants, whoever they might be, at this moment not far from me. 

I crushed the paper into my pocket, and stood up, slowly lookingabout me. For a second or two panic had me by the hair. I turned torun, but the dense woods through which I had ascended solight-heartedly had suddenly become a jungle of God knows whatterrors. I remembered that from the first cascade upward I hadscarcely once had a view of more than a dozen yards ahead, so thicklythe bushes closed in upon me. I saw myself retracing my stepsthrough those bushes, in every one of which now lurked a pair ofwatching eyes. I glanced up at the cliff across the stream. For aught I knew, eyes were watching me from its summit. 

Needless to say, I cursed the hour of my transgression, the fatalimpulse that had prompted me to break ship. I knew myself for afool; but how might I win back to repentance? As repent I certainlywould and acknowledge my fault. Could I keep hold on my nerve tothread my way back and over those five separate and accursedwaterfalls? If only I were given a clear space to run!

At this point in the nexus of my fears it occurred to me, glancingalong the green lawn ahead, that the ridge on its left must runalmost parallel with the creek; that it was sparsely wooded incomparison with the ravine behind me, and that from the summit of itI might even look straight down upon the _Espriella's_ anchorage. Be this as it might, I felt sure, considering the lie of the land, that here must be a short cut back to the creek; and once beside itswaters I could head back along the beach and regain my boat. Down there I might dismiss my fears. The upper portion of the beach, if I mistook not, remained uncovered at the top of any ordinarytides, and it wanted yet a good two hours to high-water, so that Ihad not the smallest doubt of being able to reach the creek-head, nomatter at what point of the foreshore I might descend. From the bankwhere I stood I had the whole ridge in view above the dense foliage, and could select the most promising point to make for; but this wouldsink out of sight as I approached the first belt of trees, and beyondthem I must find my way by guesswork. 

I now observed a sharp notch breaking the line of the ridge, about amile to the westward, and walked some few hundred yards forward onthe chance that it might widen as I drew more nearly abreast of it, and open into a passage between the hills. Widen it did, but verygradually--the stream curving away from it all the while; and by andby I halted again, in two minds whether to break straight across forit or continue this slow process of making sure. 

I had now reached a point where the tall cliff on the opposite shoreeither ended abruptly or took a sharp turn back from the stream. I could not determine which, and walked forward yet another twohundred yards to satisfy myself. This brought me in view of a groveof palmettos, clustering under the very lee of the rock--or so itappeared at first, but a second look told me that here the streamagain divided, and that the new confluent swept by the base of therock, between it and the palmettos, three or four of which (theirroots, maybe, sapped by bygone floods) leaned sideways and almost hidthe junction. 

I was turning away, resolved now to steer straight for the notch inthe hills, when for the second time a gleam of something whitearrested me, and I stood still, my heart in my mouth. The whiteobject, whatever it was, stood within the circle of the palmettostems, yet not very deep within it--a dozen yards at farthest fromthe stream's edge. I stared at it, and the longer I stared the moreI was puzzled, until I plunged into the water and waded across for acloser look. 

Gaining the bank, I saw, first, that the white object was but one ofmany, disposed behind it in two rows as regular as the tree-stemsallowed; next, that these objects were wooden boards, pained white. And with that, as I stepped towards the foremost, my foot slipped andI fell, twisting my ankle and narrowly saving myself from an uglysprain. I had stumbled in a hollow, shallow depression between themounds. Picking myself up, I saw that to left and right and allaround me the turf was ridged with similar mounds, the wholeenclosure full of them. In a flash I read the meaning of thewhite-painted boards. Yes--and there was writing on them, too--nowords, but single letters and dates, roughly painted in black--"O. M. , 1796"--"R. A. S. , 1796"--"P d. V. And A. M. D. V. , 1800"--these, and perhaps two score of others. The shape of the moundsinterpreted these inscriptions. 

I was in a graveyard. 

I sat helpless for a minute, dreadfully scanning the gloom throughwhich the massed palmetto-tops admitted but a shaft of light here andthere. The flies, which had been a nuisance across the stream, hereswarmed in myriads so thick that they seemed to hang in clusters fromthe boughs; and their incessant buzzing added to the horror of theplace a hint of something foul, sinister, almost obscene. 

I had a mind to creep away on all-fours, but suddenly forgot my ankleand sprang erect, on the defensive, at the sound of voices. A grassypath led through the enclosure, between the graves, and at the end ofit appeared two figures. 

They were two women; the first a negress, short, squat, and ugly, wearing a frock of the gaudiest yellow, and for head-dress a scarlethandkerchief, bound closely about her scalp and tied in front with animmense bow; the other--but how shall I describe the other?

She was white, and she wore a dress of fresh white muslin; a shortdress, tied about the waist with a pale-blue sash, and above theshoulders with narrow ribbons of the same colour. Her figure wasthat of a girl; her ringlets hung loose like a girl's. She walkedwith a girlish step; and until she came close I took her for a girlof sixteen or seventeen. 

Then, with a shock, I found myself staring into the face, which mightwell belong to a woman between sixty and seventy, so faded it was andreticulated with wrinkles; and into a pair of eyes that waveredbetween ingenuousness and a childish cunning; and from them down toher slim ankles and a pair of dancing-shoes, so fairy-like anddiminutive that they seemed scarcely to press the grass underfoot. 

The pair had drawn to a halt, while I stood uncertain whether tobrave them or make a bid for escape. I heard the negress cry aloudin a foreign tongue, at the same time flinging up her hands; but theother pushed past her and walked straight down upon me, albeit with amincing, tripping motion, as if she was pacing a dance. 

Twice she spoke, and in two different languages (as I recognized, though able to make nothing of either), and then, halting before me, she tried for the third time in English. 

"Boy"--she looked at me inquiringly--"what you do here--will youtell?"

"I come from the ship, ma'am, " said I, finding my tongue. 

"The sheep? He bring a sheep? But why?--and why he bring you?"

I stared at her, not understanding. "Ma'am, " said I, pointing overmy shoulder, "we came here in a ship--a schooner; and she is lying inthe creek yonder. I landed and climbed up through the woods. On myway I found this. "

I held out the paper boat. She caught it out of my hand with a sharpcry. But the black woman, at the same instant, turned on her andbegan to scold her volubly. The words were unintelligible to me, buther tone, full of angry remonstrance, could not be mistaken. 

"I am not sorry, " said the white woman, speaking in English, with aglance at me. "No, I do not care for his orders. It was by thisthat you came to me?" she asked, turning to me again, and pointingmincingly at the paper. 

"I found it in the stream, " I replied; "almost a mile below this. "

"Yes, yes; you found it in the stream. And you opened it, and readthe writing?"

I shook my head. "The writing, ma'am, was blotted--I could readnothing. "

"Not even my little song?" She peered into the paper, threw up herhead and piped a note or two, for all the world as a bird chirrups, lifting his bill, after taking a drink. "La-la-la--you did notunderstand, hey? But, nevertheless, you came, and of your own will. _He_ did not bring you?"

I shook my head again, having no clue to her meaning. 

"So best, " she said, changing her tone of a sudden to one of extremegravity. "For if he found you here--here of all places--he wouldkill you. Yes"--she nodded impressively "for sure we would kill you. He kill all these. "

She waved a hand, indicating the grave-mounds. Her voice, at thesedreadful words, ran up to an almost more dreadful airiness; and stillshe continued nodding, but now with a sort of simpering pride. "All these, " she repeated, waving her hand again towards the mounds. 

"Did you see him kill them?" I asked, wondering whom "he" might be, and scarcely knowing what I said. 

"Some, " she answered, with a final nod and a glance of extremechildish cunning. "But why you not talking, Rosa?" she demanded, turning on the negress. "You speak English; it is no use topretend. "

The black woman stared at me for a moment from under herloose-hanging lids. 

"You go 'way, " she said slowly. "You get no good in these parts. "

"Very well, ma'am, " said I, steadying my voice, "and the sooner thebetter, if you will kindly tell me the shortest cut back to thecreek. "

"_And_, " the woman went on, not seeming to heed the interruption, "you tell the same to your friends, that they get no good in theseparts. But, of us--and of this"--she pointed to the sodden paperwhich she had snatched from her mistress's hands--"you will saynothing. It might bring mischief. "

"Mischief?" I echoed. 

"Mischief--upon _her_. "

"But this is nonsense you talk, Rosa!" broke in the little lady. "At the most, what have I written?--a little song from Gluck, thedivine Gluck! Just a little song of Eurydice calling to Orfeo. Ah! you should have heard me sing it--in the days before my voiceleft me; in the opera, boy, and the King himself splitting his glovesto applaud us! Eh, but you are young, very young. I should notwonder to hear you were born after I left the stage. And you arepretty, but not old enough to be Orfeo yet. I must wait--I mustwait, though I wait till I doubt if I am not changed to Proserpinewith her cracked voice. Boy, if I kissed you--"

She advanced a step, but the negress caught her by the wristviolently, at the same moment waving me off. I felt faint and giddy, as though some exhalation from the graveyard--not wholly repellent, but sickly, overpowering, like the scent of a hothouse lily--had beensuddenly wafted under my nostrils. I fell back a pace as the negressmotioned me away. Her hand pointed across the stream, and across themeadow, to the gap in the ridge. 

"Fast as you can run, " she panted; "and never come this way again. "

The strong scent yet hung around me and seemed to bind me like aspell, pressing on my arms and logs. I plunged knee-deep into thestream. The cool touch of the water brought me to my senses. I splashed across, waded up the bank, and set off running towards thegap. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE MAN IN BLACK. 

Before ever I gained the gap I was panting, and as I panted the bloodran into my mouth from a deep scratch across the eyebrows. I tastedit as I ran. My shirt hung in strips, and one stocking flapped openon a rip from knee to ankle. But on the farther side of the ridge Iran no longer. I flung myself and fell through the matted fernsthat, veiling the trough of a half-dry watercourse, now checked mydescent as I clutched at them, now parted and let me drop and bruisemyself on the rocky bottom. In the end, I found myself on soft sandbeside the blessed water of the creek, bloodied indeed--for I hadtaken a shrewd knock on the bridge of the nose--but with a wrenchedshoulder and a jarred knee-pan for the worst of my hurts. I valuedthem nothing in comparison with the terrors left behind in the woods. The schooner lay in sight, scarcely half a mile below, and I sobbedwith gratitude as I dipped my face in the tide and washed off itsbloodstains. 

The tide was still at flood, and wanted (as I guessed) less than anhour of high water; but it left an almost continuous stretch of sandbetween me and the creek-head, and I found that the short intervalswhere it narrowed to nothing could be waded with ease. At first thecurve of the foreshore and the overhanging woods concealed the spitof beach where I had made fast my punt beside the dinghy; but at thecorner which brought the boats in sight I was aware of two figuresstanding beside them--Captain Branscome and Mr. Rogers. 

I walked forward hardily enough; I had drunk my fill of terror, andcould have faced the Captain had he been thrice as formidable. He did not help me at all, but stood with a thunderous frown, veryquiet and self-restrained, while I plodded my way up to him, over thesand. 

I think that, as I drew close, my battered appearance must haveshocked him a little. But his frown did not relax, and the musclesof his mouth grew, if anything, tenser. 

"You appear to have been in the wars, " he said quietly. "Has anything happened to the schooner?"

"No, sir; at least not to my knowledge, " was my answer; and he musthave; expected it, or he would have shown more perturbation. "I saw her, not five minutes ago, lying at her moorings, " I added, with a nod towards the bend of the creek which hid her from us. 

"Then why has Miss Belcher sent you?"

"She did not send me, sir. "

"In other words, you have chosen to disobey orders?"

I suppose he read some sullenness in my attitude, for he repeated thewords sharply, in a tone that demanded an answer. 

"I am sorry, sir; but all the same, it didn't seem fair to me to beleft on board without being consulted. "

I heard him take a short breath, as though my impudence him in thewind. For a full half a minute eyed me slowly up and down. 

"Get into your boat, sir, and return to the ship at once!Mr. Rogers, this child is impossible. I must do what I would gladlyhave avoided, and ask the ladies to give me more authority over him, since they will not exercise it themselves. "

At the implied sneer--and perhaps even more at the tone of it, soforeign to the Captain Branscome that I knew--I blazed up wrathfully. 

"If you mean by that, " said I, "to threaten me with the rope's-end, Iadvise you to try it. And if you mean that I'm child enough to betied to apron-strings of a couple of women, that's just of a piecewith the whole mistake you're making. No one's disputing your rightto give orders--"

"Thank you, " he put in sarcastically. 

"--To those, " I went on, "who appointed you captain. But I wasn'tconsulted, and until that happens, I shall obey or not, as I choose. "

Now, this, no doubt, was extremely childish, even wickedly foolish, and the more foolish, perhaps, because a few minutes ago I would havegiven all I possessed, including my prospective share in thetreasure, for Captain Branscome's protection. But somehow, sincesighting the island, I had lost hold of myself, and my temper seemedto be running all askew. Strange to tell, the Captain appeared to beaffected in much the same way. 

"Why, you little fool, " said he, "are you mistaking this for apicnic?"

"No, " I retorted; "I am not. And, if you'll remember, it wasn't Iwho led the ladies to look forward to one. "

He planted himself before me, and said he, looking at me sternly--

"See here, my boy, I don't want to make unpleasantness, and if youforce me to appeal to the whole ship's company, you know very wellyou will find yourself in a minority of one. "

"I don't care for that, sir. You'll be acting unfairly, all thesame. "

"We'll let that pass. You tell here in the act of breaking ship, that you're of an age to be consulted. Well, you shall have thebenefit of the doubt. You want to know, then, why I'm careful aboutletting you run ashore? What would you say if I told you the islandhas people upon it?"

"Why, first of all, sir, that if you found it out before droppinganchor, it seems strange--your going ashore with Mr. Rogers andleaving the rest to take care of themselves. But if you'vediscovered it since--"

"I have not. I am not sure the island is inhabited; but as we wererunning down the coast I saw something through my glasses--a coil ofsmoke beyond the hills on the eastern side. Now, if, as seemscertain, this fire was lit by human beings, it almost stands toreason they must have sighted our ship. Next comes the question Whydid I go ashore and take Mr. Rogers? Well, in the first place, wedidn't come here to lie at anchor and sail away again; and if theisland happened to be inhabited, and by people who don't want us, why, then, the sooner we nipped ashore and prospected, the better, for the spot where I sighted the smoke must lie a good five milesfrom here as the crow flies, and by the shape of the hills and theamount of scrub between 'em, those five miles must be equal tofifteen. But why (say you) did I take Mr. Rogers? I took Mr. Rogers, after consulting with Miss Belcher--"

"Does _she_ know there are people on the island?"

"She does. I took Mr. Rogers because, if danger there be, it seemedlikelier we should find it ashore than on board the schooner; andbecause, as the shortest way to make sure if these strangers wereafter our treasure, we had agreed to make straight for the clump oftrees described on the back of the chart and examine whether theground thereabouts had been visited lately or disturbed; and, further, because our search might require more strength and agilitythan I alone, with my lame leg, could command. I felt pretty easyabout the schooner. She can only be attacked by boat, and I searchedthe coast pretty narrowly on our way down without sighting one. If these men possess a boat, she probably lies somewhere on theeastern side, not far from their camp fire. If she lies nearer, itmust be somewhere under the cliffs to the south, in which case herowners would have a long journey to reach her, and that journey musttake them around the head of the creek here. But (say you) there maybe two parties on the island--one by the camp fire northward, andanother under the south shore. I'll grant this, though I think itunlikely; but, even so, to attack the schooner they must bring theirboat up the whole length of the entrance, where our people would haveher in view for at least two miles. This would give ample time for asignal to recall us, and on the chance of it I left Goodfellow incharge of two rockets with instructions to touch them off on a hintof danger. "

"Oh, oh!" said I. "So Mr. Goodfellow, too, knew of this?And Plinny, I suppose? And, in fact, you told every one but me?"

"No, sir, " said Captain Branscome, gravely; "I did not trouble MissPlinlimmon with these perhaps unnecessary fears. To a lady of hersensitive nature--"

"Oh, well, sir, " I interrupted and, turning aside pettishly, began tohaul my cockboat down to the water, "since you choose to treat melike a baby of six, I suppose it's no wonder you take Plinny for atimorous old fool. "

"Sir!" exploded Captain Branscome, and glancing back over my shoulderI saw him leaning on his stick and fairly trembling with wrath. "This disrespectful language! And of a lady for whom--for whom--"

"Disrespect?"--I whistled. "Is it worse to speak disrespect or toact it? I have known Plinny for years--you for a month or two; andone of these days, if this expedition gets into a mess--as it likelywill with such handling--that sensitive lady will make you seestars. "

I knew, while I uttered it, that my speech was abominablyill-conditioned; that Captain Branscome had, in fact, been holdingout the olive-branch, and that in common decency I ought to havecaught at it. In short, I felt my boyish temper going from bad toworse, and yet, somehow, that I could not apply the brake to it. 

"Why, confound the boy!" ejaculated Mr. Rogers. "What ever bee hasstung him?" And gripping me by the shoulder as I heaved at the boat, he swung me round to face him. "Look here, young Harry Brooks!Do you happen to be sickening for something, that you talk like agutter-snipe to a gentleman old enough to be your grandfather?Or, damme, have you and Goodfellow been coming to blows? By the noseof you and the state of your shirt a man would say you've come from astreet fight; and by your talk, that your head was knocked silly. "

"It's all very well, Mr. Rogers, " said I, sulkily, "and I know Ioughtn't to have spoken like that, but I hate to be tyrannized over. That's why I didn't take your warning first along and pull back tothe ship--though I thank you for it all the same. "

"Eh?" said Mr. Rogers. "My warning? What in thunder is the boytalking about?"

"When you saw me sculling for shore, here, about an hour ago, " Iexplained, "you pretended not to see me, and went after CaptainBranscome; but I saw you, fast enough, standing on the bank yonder, under the trees. "

"For a certainty the child is mad!" Mr. Rogers stared at meround-eyed. "_I_ saw you? _I_ pretended not to? Why, man alive, from the time we left the ship I never set eyes on you (how shouldI?), nor ever guessed you were ashore till we came back and foundyour boat beside the dinghy. And as for standing under those trees, I was never on the bank there for one second--no, nor for the half ofone. The Captain and I walked around the spit together--the tide hascovered our footmarks or I could show 'em to you. "

"At any rate there _was_ a man, " I persisted. "And he couldn't havebeen the Captain either, for he was wearing dark clothes--"

"The devil! I say, Branscome, listen to this--"

"I am listening, " answered the Captain, gravely, taking, as hestepped forward, a long look at the bank above us and at the denseforest to right and left. "Did you see the man's face, Harry?"

"No, sir, or I should not have mistaken him for Mr. Rogers. He wasstanding there, under the boughs, and seemed to be looking throughthem and watching me. I was sculling the boat along with a paddleslipped in the stern notch, and he let me come pretty close--Icouldn't have been two hundred yards away--when he slipped to theback of the trees, and I lost him. "

"You didn't see him again?"

"No, sir; I didn't land just at once. I had a mind at first to putabout and row to the schooner, thinking that Mr. Rogers had meant itfor a hint. When I brought the boat ashore, five minutes later, hewas gone. "

"Which way did you take, then?"

"I went straight after you, sir, up the waterfalls; but couldn't findany trace of you except at one spot just beside a waterfall--thefourth, it was--where some one had slipped a foot--"

"Mr. Rogers, " the Captain interrupted, "we had best get back to the_Espriella_ with all speed. I may tell you, Harry, that we neverwent up by the waterfalls at all. It was a climb, and my half-payleg didn't like the look of it. But, jump into your boat, boy, andpull ahead of us. You and I must do a little serious talking lateron. "

We pulled back briskly for the _Espriella_ and reached her just asshe began to swing with the turn of the tide. As we drew close--thecockboat leading--I glanced over my shoulder and spied Plinny leaningagainst the bulwarks by the starboard quarter, in the attitude of onegently enjoying the sunset scene; but at the sight of my torn shirtall her composure left her, and she came running to the accommodationladder, where she met me with a string of agitated questions. 

"Excuse me, ma'am, " said Captain Branscome, as the dinghy fellalongside and he climbed on deck. "I have no wish to alarm you, and, indeed, there may be no cause at all for alarm. But Harry hasbrought us some serious news. He reports that there is a man--astranger--on the Island. "

"How could Harry have known?" was Plinny's unexpected response. 

"He is confident that he saw a man, somewhat more than an hour since, standing at the head of the creek. "

"Now, that is very curious, " said Plinny; "for the gentleman told mehe had borrowed Harry's boat without being observed. "

"I--I beg your pardon, ma'am!" Captain Branscome stared about him. "A gentleman, did you say?"

"Yes, and such distinguished manners! He left a message for you--and, dear me, you should have heard how he praised my coffee!"

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE MASTER OF THE ISLAND. 

But here, as Captain Branscome leaned back and caught feebly at themain rigging for support, there appeared above the after companion(like a cognisance above an escutcheon) a bent fore-arm, the handgrasping a beaver hat. It was presently followed by the head of MissBelcher, who nodded cheerfully, blinking a little in the level lightof the sunset. 

"Hallo!" said she, addressing Plinny, while she adjusted the hat uponher brow. "Have you been telling the Captain about our visitor?"

"Miss Plinlimmon, ma'am, has given me a shock, and I won't deny it, "answered the Captain, recovering himself. 

Miss Belcher continued to nod like a china mandarin. 

"I don't wonder, " she agreed. "For my part, you might have knockedme down with a feather. The fellow came down the creek, cool as youplease, and pulling a nice easy stroke, in Harry's cockboat. Where is Harry, by the way?"--her eyes lit and fastened upon me--"Good Lord! what have you been doing to the child?"

"Nothing, ma'am. He has been exploring, and lost his way; that'sall. "

"H'm! he seems to have lost it pretty badly. Well, he deserved it. But, as I was saying, along comes my gentleman, pulling with just theeasy jerk which is the way to make a boat of that sort travel. Goodfellow was keeping watch. They say that a sailor will recognizea boat half a mile further off than he'll recognize the man in it, but Goodfellow isn't a sailor, so that explanation won't fit. We'll say that he was prepared for the boat returning, but not tofind an entire stranger pulling her. At all events, he let her comewithin a couple of gunshots before calling down to the cabin andgiving the alarm. I had my legs up on a locker, and was taking asiesta over a book--'Parkinson _On The Dog_'--and, by the way, wewere a set of fools not to bring a dog; but I ran up the companion ina jiffy, and had the sense to catch up your spyglass as I went. Goodfellow by this time had begun to dance about the deck in aflutter. He had the tinder-box in his hand, and wanted to know if heshould touch off a rocket. I ordered him to drop it, and fetch me amusket, which he did. By this time I could see that the man in theboat was unarmed, so I put up the musket at the 'present, ' got thesight on him, and called out to know his business. 

"The man jerked the cockboat round with her stern to the schooner--these boats come right-about with a single twist--and says he, verypolitely lifting his hat, 'You'll pardon me, ma'am, but (as you see)I have borrowed your young friend's boat. My own was not handy, andthis seemed the quickest way to pay my respects. ' 'Indeed?' said I, 'and who may you be?' 'My name, ma'am, ' said he, 'is Beauregard--Dr. Beauregard. ' 'I never heard of you, ' said I. 'That, ma'am, isentirely my misfortune, ' said he, lifting his hat again; 'but allowme to say that I am the proprietor of this island, and very much atyour service. '

"Well, this was a facer. It never occurred to any of us--eh?--thatthis island might have an owner. To tell the truth, I'm a sticklerfor the rights of property, at home; but somehow the notion of anisland like this belonging to any one had never entered my head. Yet the thing is reasonable enough when you come to think it over;and, of course, I saw that it put an entirely different complexionupon our business here. "

"My dear Lydia, " put in Mr. Rogers, impatiently, "the man's claimmust be absurd. Why, the island is right in the tropics!"

"You wouldn't have thought it a bit absurd if you had heard him, "retorted Miss Belcher. "He appeared to be quite sure of his ground. Very pleasant about it, too, he was; said that few visitors everhonoured his out-of-the way home, but that as soon as any arrived healways made it a matter of--of punctilio (yes, that was the word) toput off and bid them welcome. He spoke with the slightest possibleforeign accent, but used admirable English: and, I don't know why, "wound up Miss Belcher, ingenuously, "but he seemed to divine from thefirst that I was an Englishwoman. "

"And it wasn't as if we had come here flaunting British colours, "added Plinny. 

"But what sort of man was he?" asked the Captain. 

"Height, six foot two or three in his stockings; age, about sixty;face, clean shaven and fleshy; the features extraordinarily powerful;hair, jet black, and dyed (if at all) by a process that would makehis fortune if he sold the secret; clothes, black alpaca and wellcut, with silk stockings that would be cheap at two guineas, andshoes with gold buckles on 'em. I couldn't take my eyes off--nodisplay about 'em--and yet I doubt if King Louis of France over worethe like before they cut his head off. Complexion, pale for thisclimate, with a sort of silvery shine about it. Manner charming, voice charming, bearing fit for a grand seigneur; and that's what heis, or something like it, unless, as I rather incline to suspect, he's the biggest scoundrel unhung. "

"Oh, Miss Belcher!" protested Plinny. "When you agreed with me thathe might have sat for a portrait of a gentleman of the old school!"

"Tut, my dear! When I saw that you had lost your heart to him assoon as he set foot on deck! Did I say 'of the old school'?Yes, indeed, and of the very oldest; and, in fact, quite possibly theOld Gentleman himself. "

Now, either I had spoiled Captain Branscome's temper for the day, orsomething in this speech of Miss Belcher's especially rasped it. 

"But who is this man?" he demanded, in a sharp, authoritative voice. 

Miss Belcher stepped back half a pace. I saw her chin go up, and itseemed to grow square as she answered him with a dangerous coldness. 

"I beg your pardon. I thought I told you that he gave his name asDr. Beauregard. "

"You had no business, ma'am, to allow him on board the ship. "

"No business?"

"No business, ma'am. I have just been having words with young Harry, here, over his disobedience this afternoon; but this is infinitelymore serious. We are here to search for treasure. We no sooner dropanchor than a man visits us, who claims that the island is his. This at once presupposes his claim upon any treasure that may behidden upon it, and consequently that, as soon as he discovers ourpurpose, he will be our enemy. It follows, I should imagine, that ofall steps the most fatal was to admit him on board to discover ourweakness. "

"Our weakness, sir?" asked Miss Belcher, carelessly, as though buthalf attending. 

"Our weakness, ma'am; as it was doubtless to discover our weaknessthat he came. "

"Now, I rather thought, " murmured Miss Belcher, "that Miss Plinlimmonand I had spent a great part of this afternoon in impressing him withour strength. "

"To be sure, " pursued Captain Branscome, "with such a company as hefound on board, he can scarcely have suspected a treasure hunt. Still, when he does suspect it--as sooner or later he must--he willknow our weakness. "

"He could scarcely have dealt with us more frankly than he did, atany rate, " said Miss Belcher, with an air of simplicity; "for heassured us he was alone on the island. "

"And you believed him, ma'am?"

"I forget, sir, if I believed him; but he certainly knows that we arehere in search of treasure, for I told him so myself. "

Captain Branscome gasped. "You--you told him so?" he echoed. 

"I did, and he replied that it scarcely surprised him to hear it, that of the few vessels which found their way to Mortallone, quite anappreciable proportion came with some idea of discovering treasure. The proportion, he added, had fallen off of late years, and themost of them nowadays put in to water, but there was a time whenthe treasure-seekers threatened to become a positive nuisance. He said this with a smile which disarmed all suspicion. In fact, itwas impossible to take offence with the man. "

But at this point Plinny, frightened perhaps at the warnings ofapoplexy in Captain Branscome's face, laid a hand gently on MissBelcher's arm. 

"Are we treating our good friend quite fairly?" she asked. 

Miss Belcher glanced at her and broke into a ringing laugh. 

"You dear creature! No, to be sure, we are not; but from a child Ialways turned mischievous under correction. Captain Branscome, I begyour pardon. "

"It is granted, ma'am. "

"And--for I take you to be on the point of resigning, here and now--"

"Ma'am, you have guessed correctly. "

"I am going to beg you to do nothing of the sort. No, I am notgoing to ask it only as a favour, but to appeal to your reason. You think it extremely rash of me to have entertained this man andtalked with him so frankly? Well, but consider. To begin with, ifI had not told him that we were after the treasure, he would probablyhave guessed it; nay, I make bold to say that he guessed it already, for--I forgot to mention it--he knows Harry Brooks. "

"Knows _me_, ma'am?" I cried out, as all the company turned andstared at me. 

"He says so, and that he recognized you as you were sculling up thecreek. "

"Knows _me_?" I echoed. "But who on earth can he be, then? Not--notthe man Aaron Glass, surely?"

"I was wondering, " said Miss Belcher. 

"But--but Aaron Glass wasn't a bit like this man, as you make himout; a thin, foxy-looking fellow, with sandy hair and a face full ofwrinkles, about the middling height, with sloping shoulders--"

"Then he can't be Aaron Glass. But whoever he is, he knows you--that's the important point--and pretty certainly connects you withthe treasure. He didn't seem to have met Goodfellow before. Well, now, if he lives alone here--which, I admit, is not likely--weought to be more than a match for him. If, on the other hand, he hasmen at his call--and I ask your particular attention here, Captain--it was surely no folly at all, but the plainest common sense, toadmit him on board. He will go off and report that our ship'scompany consists of two middle-aged maiden ladies (I occupied myselfwith tatting a chair-cover while he conversed); a boy; Mr. Goodfellow(whatever he may have made of Goodfellow); and two gentlemen ashoreto whose mental and physical powers I was careful to do someinjustice. You will pardon me, Captain, but I laid more thanwarrantable stress on your lameness; and us for you, Jack, I depictedyou as a mere country booby"--here Mr. Rogers bowed amiably--"andadded by way of confirmation that I had known you from childhood. He will go back and report all this, with the certain consequencethat he and his confederates will mistake us for a crew ofcrack-brained eccentrics. "

When she had done, the Captain stood considering for a moment, rubbing his chin. 

"Yes, " he admitted slowly, "there seems reason in that, ma'am;reason and method. But 'tis a kind of reason and method outside allmy experience, and you must excuse me if I get the grip of it slowly. I should like a good look at the man before saying more. "

"As to that, " answered Miss Belcher, "you won't have long to waitfor it. He has invited us all ashore to-morrow, for a picnic. He charged me to say--if he did not happen to run against you as hewas returning the cockboat--that he would be at the creek-headpunctually at nine-thirty to await us. "

Two hours later Captain Branscome sent word for me to attend him inhis cabin. 

"I want to tell you, Harry Brooks, " said the old man, turning awayfrom me while he lit his pipe, "that I have been thinking over whathappened this afternoon. "

"I was in the wrong, sir. "

"You were; and I am glad to hear you acknowledge it. Now, what Iwant to say is this. Had affairs gone in the least as I expected, Ishould have held you to 'strict service, ' as we used to say on theold packets. I never tolerated a favourite on board, and nevershall. But these ladies don't make a favourite of you; that's notthe trouble. The trouble--no, I won't call it even that--is that youand they all cannot help taking the bit between your teeth. It don'tappear to be your fault; you wasn't bred to the sea, and can't tumbleto sea-fashions. 'So much the worse, ' a man might say. The plagueof it is, I can't be sure; and after casting it up and down, I'vedetermined to let you have your way. "

"You don't mean, sir, that you're going to resign!" said I, confounded. 

"No, I don't. Saving your objections, boy, I was elected captain, and it don't do away with my responsibility that I choose to letdiscipline go to the winds. If mischief comes I shall be to blame, because I might have stopped it but didn't. "

I was silent. This should have been the time for me to tell what Ihad discovered that afternoon; of the graveyard and the two strangewomen. But shame tied my tongue. I saw that this noble gentleman, in imparting his thoughts to me, was really condescending to ask mypardon; and the injustice of it was so monstrous that I felt adelicacy in letting him know the extent of my unworthiness. I temporized, and promised myself a better occasion. 

"But are you quite sure, sir, that yours was not the wisest plan, after all?"

"The question is not worth considering, " he answered. "My policy--you would hardly call it a plan, for it wholly depended oncircumstances--no longer exists. The ladies, you see, have forced myhand. "

I forbore to tell him that if the ladies had forced his hand hisaccepting full responsibility was simply quixotic. 

"She's a wonderful woman, " said I, by way of filling up the pause. 

"And so womanly!" assented Captain Branscome, to my entire surprise. 

"Indeed, sir, " I stammered. "Well, I _have_ heard people say--Mr. Rogers for one--that Miss Belcher ought to have been born a man. "

"Miss Belcher? Why, heavens alive, boy, I was referring to MissPlinlimmon!"

He dismissed me with a wave of the hand, but called me back as Iturned to the door. 

"Oh, by the way, " said he, "I had almost forgotten the reason why Isent for you. This man--have you any notion who he can be?"

"None, sir. "

"You've thought over every possible person of your acquaintance?Well"--as I nodded--"we shall know to-morrow morning, if he keeps hisword. Mr. Rogers has kindly undertaken to stay and look after theschooner. He has a sense of discipline, by the way, has Mr. Rogers. "

"If you wish me, sir, to stay with him-"

"Thank you, " he interrupted dryly, "but we shall need you ashore; inthe first place to indentify this mysterious stranger, and also tohelp protect the ladies. Their escort, Heaven knows, is notexcessive. We take the gig, and if the man fails to appear, orbrings even so much as one companion, I give the word to return. "

But these apprehensions proved to be groundless. As we rowed aroundthe bend next morning into view of the creek-head the man stood therealone, awaiting us. He saw us at once, and lifted his hat inwelcome. 

"Do you know him, Harry?" asked Miss Belcher. 

"No, " said I, pretty confidently, and then--"But, yes--in the garden, that evening--the day you went up to Plymouth for the sale!"

"Eh? The garden at Minden Cottage? What on earth was he doingthere?"

"Nothing, ma'am--at least, I don't know. He seemed to be takingmeasurements, and he gave me a guinea. I rather think, ma'am, he wasthe man that attended the auction. "

"You never saw him until that evening?"

"No. "

"Nor afterwards?"

"Only that once, ma'am. "

"Oh!" said Miss Belcher. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

A BOAT ON THE BEACH. 

As we drew to shore the stranger stepped down the beach and liftedhis hat again. 

"Welcome, ladies; and let me thank you and all your party for thisconfidence. The boy here--bless my soul, how he has grown in thesefew months!--the boy and I have had the pleasure of meeting before. Eh, Harry Brooks? You remember me? To the Captain I must introducemyself. Shake hands, Captain Branscome. I am proud to make youracquaintance. . . . But what is the meaning of these baskets?You have brought your own provisions? Come, Miss Belcher, that isunkind of you, when we agreed--yes, surely we agreed?--that you wereto be my guests. "

"We were not sure, sir--" began Miss Belcher. 

"That I should keep my word? Worse and worse! Or possibly youdistrusted the entertainment of a solitary bachelor on a desertisland? But I must prove that you did me an injustice. " He pointedto a goodly hamper on the beach and to a frail or carpenter's basketfrom which half a dozen bottles protruded their necks, topped withred and green seals. "As proprietor of Mortallone--you will forgivemy laying stress on it--I may surely claim the right to do thehonours. Stay a moment, my good man, " he added, as Mr. Goodfellowmade a motion to lift out our own hamper. "Miss Plinlimmon, Ibelieve, is an admirer of natural scenery, and, if the ladies willstep ashore for a few minutes, there is a waterfall above which mayreward her inspection; not by any means, ma'am, the grandest ourisland can show, yet charming in its way and distant but a short fiveminutes' walk. Captain Branscome will bear me out, and Harry, too--yes, Harry, too, if I mistake not, visited it yesterday. "

He put out a hand to assist the ladies to disembark, at the same timehitching back the gun on his bandolier. 

"You will excuse my having brought a musket. You have brought yourown, I see. Quite right. I carry it habitually; for, to tell youthe truth, the island contains a few wild boars who disputepossession with me. A very few--we are not likely to meet with one, so the ladies may reassure themselves! But, as I was about to say, with the Captain's permission we will not unload here. Rather, aftervisiting the waterfall, I would suggest that we row round to theeastern side, where, if I may guide you, you will find choice of adozen delightful spots for a picnic. In this way, too, we shallcover more ground and get a more general view of the beauties of theisland, which, as I dare say my friend Harry discovered yesterday, issomewhat too thickly overgrown for easy travelling. "

The man's manner--at once frank, chatty, and easily polite--completely disconcerted me, and I could see it disconcerted theCaptain. It seemed to reduce the whole expedition to an ordinarypicnic; and (more astonishing yet) the ladies accepted it for that. They fell in, one on each side of him, as he led the way to thewaterfall, and for a climax Miss Belcher shook out a parasol whichshe had been carrying under her arm and spread it above her beaverhat!

At the waterfall our host surpassed himself. The landscapehereabouts (he declared) always reminded him of Nicholas Poussin. He would like Miss Plinlimmon's opinion on the rock-drawing ofSalvator Rosa, a painter whom he gently depreciated. Had MissPlinlimmon ever visited the Apennines? He plucked a few of the fernsgrowing in the spray and discoursed on them, comparing them with thecommon European polypody. He turned to music, and challenged hisfair visitors to guess the note made by the falling water: it hummedon E natural, rising now and then by something less than a semitone. 

With all this it was not easy to suspect him of acting, as it wasnext to impossible to mistake him for a trifler. His tall figure, his carriage, the fine pose of his head, his resonant manly voice, all forbade it, no less than did the wild scenery to which he drewour attention with an easy proprietary wave of the hand. I observedthat Captain Branscome listened to him with a puzzled frown. 

The waterfall having been duly admired, we retraced our steps to theshore. The gig carried a small mast and lugsail, and, the faint windblowing fair down the creek, the Captain suggested our hoisting them. I think it annoyed him to find himself appealing to Dr. Beauregard. 

"By all means, " said the Doctor, affably. "It will save labour tillwe reach open water, when I will ask you to lower them. We had bestuse the paddles after rounding the point to eastward, and keep closeinshore. I have my reasons for recommending this--reasons which Ishall be happy to explain to you, sir, at the proper time. "Here he bowed to Captain Branscome. 

Accordingly we hoisted sail, and in a few minutes opened the view ofthe lower reach, with the _Espriella_ swinging softly at her cables, her masts reflected on the scarcely rippled water. Miss Belcherbroke into a laugh at sight of Mr. Rogers wistfully eyeing us fromthe deck. Dr. Beauregard echoed it, just audibly. 

"Well, well, ma'am; it is hard upon Mr. --Rogers, did you tell me?But we must not blame the Captain for taking precautions. A very neat craft, Captain, and Jamaica-built, by the look of her. "

"We picked her up at Savannah-la-Mar, " announced Miss Belcher. 

"After burning your boats, madam? Pardon me, but I find yourfrankness as admirable as it is unexpected. Moreover, though CaptainBranscome deprecates it, no policy could be wiser. "

"I see no reason, sir, for being less than candid with you, " saidMiss Belcher. "You know whence we come end you know why we are here. How we came is a trifling matter in comparison. "

"Believe me, ma'am, your frankness is all in your favour. I may repeat what I told you yesterday, that several expeditions havecome to this island seeking treasure; crews of merely avaricious men, mad with greed, whom I have made it my business to baffle. _You_, on the contrary, may almost count on my help; though whetherthe treasure will do you much good when you have found it is anotherquestion altogether. But we are not treasure-seeking just now, and Ishall grudge even the pleasure of talking if it steal your admirationfrom my island. "

The shore by which we steered was, indeed, entrancing, and grew yetmore entrancing as we rounded Cape Fea and, downing sail, headed thegig for the north-east, pulling almost in the shadow of the cliffs;for the sea lay calm as a pond, and broke in feeblest ripples even onthe beaches recessed here and there in the chasms. We passedTry-again Inlet, and our wonder grew; for the cliffs now were merecliffs no longer but the bases of a range of mountains, broken intorock slides with matted vines like curtains overhanging their scars;and in the water, ten fathoms deep below us, we could watch thecoloured fishes at play. 

Mr. Goodfellow and I were at the oars; and we had been pulling, as Ijudged, for something over an hour, but easily, for the tide couldhardly be felt, when Dr. Beauregard, who had taken the tiller, steered us in towards a beach which he announced to be the, perhaps, very choicest in the island for a picnic. 

Certainly it was a fairy-like spot, with white sand underfoot, greencreepers overhanging, and through the creepers a rill of watersplashing down the cliff; yet we had passed at least a dozen otherbeaches, which to me had looked no less inviting. 

"We will leave the ladies to unpack the hampers, " said Dr. Beauregard. "I speak as a bachelor, but in my experience there is ahalf-hour before lunch in which that man is best appreciated whomakes himself scarce. Captain Branscome, if you will not mind ashort scramble over the rocks here, to the left, I can promise yousomething worth seeing. "

He led the way at once, and we followed, the Captain (who appearedto have lost his temper again) growling that he took no stock inviews. But the distance was not far. We scrambled over two lowledges of rock and found ourselves looking down upon a beach evenprettier and more fairy-like than the one we had left--and uponsomething more--a ship's boat, drawn about thirty feet abovehigh-water, and resting there on her side. 

"Yours?" asked Captain Branscome, after a long stare at her. 

"Certainly not, " answered Dr. Beauregard. "And that is why I broughtyou here. "

CHAPTER XXX. 

THE SCREAM ON THE CLIFF. 

"A boat?" said Captain Branscome, staring again, and slowly rubbingthe back of his head. 

He took a step forward, to descend to the beach and examine her, butDr. Beauregard laid a hand on his arm. 

"Not so fast, my friend! _Qui dit canot dit canotier_--a glance willassure you that she did not beach herself in that position, abovehigh-water mark, still less furl her own sail and stow it. Further, if you study the country behind us, you will see that, whilewe came unobserved and stand at this moment in excellent cover, bycrossing the beach we expose ourselves to observation and the risk ofa bullet. "

"I take it, sir, " answered Captain Branscome, still puzzled, "youknew this boat to be here, and have brought us with some purpose. "

"I knew it, to be sure, and my purpose is simple. We cannot have arival party of treasure-seekers on the island. We have ladies in ourcharge--gentle, well-bred ladies--and of the crew of that boat, oneman, to my knowledge, is a pretty desperate ruffian. The othertwo--"

"You have seen them, then?"

Dr. Beauregard lifted his shoulders slightly, and took snuff. 

"My good friend, " he answered, "as lord proprietor of Mortallone, Ipay attention to all my visitors. Well, as I was saying, to crossthe beach just now would be venturesome and foolish to boot, seeingthat we hold all the cards and have only to wait. "

"What of the ladies?" asked the Captain. 

"We can return at once and join them at luncheon. But the ladies, asyou remind me, complicate the affair. Before you arrived, I had laidmy plans to let these rascals have the run of the island and amuse meby their activities. I had, in fact, prepared a little deception forthem--oh, a very innocent little trick! I don't know, my dear sir, if it has struck you how much simpler our amusements tend to becomeas we grow older. I had promised myself to watch them, lying perdu, and in the end to dismiss them with a quiet chuckle. You have readyour _Tempest_, Captain Branscome? Well, I have no obedient Ariel toplay will-o'-the-wisp with such gentry; yet I would have led them avery pretty dance. But the ladies--the ladies, to be sure!We cannot expose them to dangers, nor even to alarms. We must usemore summary methods. " He stood for a moment or two reflective, tapping his snuff-box. "Mr. Goodfellow is a carpenter, Iunderstand. "

"At your service, sir. "

Mr. Goodfellow's hand went halfway to his waistcoat pocket, as if toproduce his business card. 

"I seem to remember, Mr. Goodfellow that you carry a bag of tools inthe boat?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Including, no doubt, an auger, or, at any rate, a fair-sizedgimlet?"

"Both, sir. "

"You will greatly oblige me, then, Mr. Goodfellow--always withCaptain Branscome's leave--by returning to the boat and fetching yourauger; if possible, without attracting the ladies' observation. With this instead of returning direct to us, you will make your wayto the left, towards the head of the beach, keeping well under therocks, which will serve you from landward. At the head of the beachyou will bring us into sight a pace or two before you come abreast ofthe boat. There, at a signal from me, you will creep down to theboat--on hands and knees, or on your stomach if you will--and bore methree small holes close alongside her keelson, using as muchexpedition as may consist with neatness. You understand? Then thequicker you set about it, the less will be the risk. "

Mr. Goodfellow touched his forelock, and sped on his errand. Dr. Beauregard seated himself on the rocks, and loosing the gun fromhis bandolier, laid it across his knees. 

"A simple job, " he remarked. "Any one of us could do it as well asGoodfellow. But it is a practice of mine to take the smallest risksinto account; and if the honest fellow _should_ be detected, why, Iimagine he can be the most easily spared of the party. "

Mr. Goodfellow, however, reached the boat without misadventure. 

"Ah, he displays intelligence!" commented Dr. Beauregard, watchinghim as, before setting to work, he lifted the boat's gunwale andheaved her over on her other side, exposing the bilgepiece on whichshe had been resting. "Yes, decidedly, he displays intelligence. "

Mr. Goodfellow having stripped off his coat, picked up his auger andbored his three holes very neatly. This done be rubbed them overwith a handful of sand, and smoothed over with sand all traces ofsawdust, heaved the boat back, so that she rested again in heroriginal position; and retired, sweeping his coat behind him, andobliterating his footprints as he went. 

"Couldn't be bettered!" said Dr. Beauregard, smiling cheerfully andsmoothing his gun-barrel. "And now I think we may rejoin the ladiesand pray that these rascals will put off disturbing us until afterluncheon. At one time I feared they might have taken a panicyesterday morning at sight of your schooner; but they calculated, maybe, that the chances were all against your discovering theirpresence, which, of course, you never suspected. "

"I suspected something fast enough, " said Captain Branscome, "for inrunning along the coast I caught sight of smoke rising among thehills--from a camp-fire, as I reckoned--and no doubt from here orhereabouts, though I should have put it a mile or two farther south. "

"The born fools!" said Dr. Beau-regard, laughing. "Well, it's evenpossible that in their furious preoccupation they let the schoonercome close without spying her. Ah, Captain, you can hardly imagine--you, fresh from a civilized country, where folks must keep upappearances, while they prey upon one another--how this lust of goldbrutalizes a man when, as here, he pursues it without restraint. And what, after all, will gold purchase?"

"Not happiness, I verily believe, " said the Captain, "though to thepoor--and I speak as one who has been bitterly poor--it may bringhappiness for a while in the shape of relief from grindingdiscomfort. "

"Yes, yes; as pleasure lies in mere cessation from pain. But thatdoes not meet my question. We will take Master Harry here, who seemsa good, ordinary healthy boy. We will suppose him in possession ofthe treasure you are here to seek. What in the end can he purchasewith it better than the fun he is getting out of this expedition?He can indulge all his senses, but for a while only; in the endindulgence brings satiety, dulls the appetite, takes the savour fromthe feast, and so destroys itself. He can purchase power, you say?But that again moves one difficulty but a step further. For whatwill his power give him when he has won it? These are questions, Captain, which I have asked myself daily here on this island. I have been asking them ever since, and while I was yet a young manthey came to wear for me a personal application. 'Vanity ofvanities, ' Captain--what the Preacher discovered long ago Idiscovered again and of my own experience. "

"The Christian religion, sir--" began Captain Branscome. But hereour strange host laid a hand on his arm. 

"We forget our politeness, " he interrupted, yet gently, and withoutsuspicion of offence. "We keep the ladies waiting. "

"Captain Branscome and I, " said our host, as he seated himselfbeside Miss Belcher, and uncorked one of the green-sealed bottles, "have been talking platitudes, to which, however, our presentbusiness lends a certain fresh interest. You are here, manythousands of miles from home, on a hunt for treasure. Now, Heavenforbid that I should criticise your intentions, seeing thatincidentally I am in debt to them for this delightful picnic; butbefore I help you--as, believe me, I am disposed to help--may I askwhat you propose to do with this wealth when you get it?"

"Why, sir, " answered Miss Belcher, candidly, "we discussed that, youmay be sure, before starting. The bulk of it, after paying expenses, was to go to young Brooks, here. Circumstances had given him, as wesupposed--and for the matter of that, as we still believe--the clueto the treasure--"

"Pardon me, ma'am, for interrupting you; but did that clue take theform of a map of the island?"

"It did, sir. "

"A map with three red crosses upon it and some writing on the back?Nay, I will not press the question. Your faces answer it. "

"I ought to tell you, Dr. Beauregard, in justice to the boy, that hecame by it honestly, though in very tragic circumstances. "

"Again, ma'am, your faces would answer for the honesty of yourbusiness. As for the circumstances you speak of, it may save time ifI tell you that I know the whole story. Why, truly, " he went on, aswe stared, "there is no mystery about it. I dare say, ma'am, the boyhas found an opportunity to whisper to you that he and I have metbefore. It was at Minden Cottage, in his father's garden, and by thevery spot where his father was murdered. He found me there takingmeasurements; for I had a theory about the crime--a theory of which Ineed only say here that, though right in the main, it missed certaindetails of which Harry's engaging conversation put me on the scent. I had read of the murder quite accidentally; but it happened that Iknew something of Coffin--enough to explain his fate--and of the manwho had murdered him. But of Major Brooks I knew nothing; and what Igathered by inquiry made the whole affair more and more puzzling. At length I hit on the explanation that Coffin--who had reasons, andstrong ones, for going in deadly terror of Aaron Glass--had in someway chosen this Major Brooks for his confessor, and journeyed toMinden Cottage to deposit the secret with him; and that Glass, following in pursuit, had surprised and murdered the both of them. The exact catena of the two crimes mattered less to me than thequestion: Had Glass possessed himself of the secret before makingoff? At first I saw no room to doubt it. But your young friend'saccount of himself sent me to Falmouth, and at Falmouth I began tohave my doubts. My earliest inquiries there were addressed to thepedagogue--the Reverend Something-or-other Stimcoe--a drunken idiot, who yielded no information at all; and to his wife, a lady whopersisted in regarding me as sent from heaven for no other purposethan to discharge her small debts. From her, again, I learnednothing. But from a talk with one of her pupils--his name was Bates, if I remember--I discovered that Master Harry had been a particularcrony of Coffin's, and this, of course, threw light on Coffin's visitto Minden Cottage. Still, there remained the question: Had Glassmanaged to lay hands on the chart, or had it found its way, afterall, into the possession of Master Harry Brooks? You'll excuse me, young sir"--Dr. Beauregard turned to me--"but during our talk in thegarden, your manner suggested to me that you had a card up yoursleeve. Well, whatever the answer, my obvious course was to returnto Mortallone and await it, as for fifteen years already I have beenawaiting it, though question and answer were but now beginning totake definite form. Here you are then at last, and here am I--_tout vient a point a qui sait attendre_. "

"Then our arrival, sir, did not altogether surprise you?" said MissBelcher. 

"On the contrary, ma'am--though for reasons you will not easilyguess--it surprised me as I have never been surprised in all my lifebefore; it confounded me, dumfounded me, made chaos of my plans, and--and--I am delighted to welcome you, ma'am! I desire to beallowed the honour of taking wine with you. "

"Willingly!" assented Miss Belcher, holding out her glass to bereplenished; "and the more so because I never drank better Rhone winein my life. "

Dr. Beauregard stood up and bowed, his fine features overspread witha flush of pleased astonishment. 

"Madam--" began Dr. Beauregard, and I have no doubt he had acompliment on his lips. But at that moment the hills and theamphitheatre of cliff behind us, rang out--rang out and echoed--withtwo terrible screams. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

AARON GLASS. 

The second scream followed the first almost before we could lift ourfaces to the cliff. Dr. Beauregard had risen to his feet quickly, without fuss, and was unstrapping his gun. But Miss Belcher wasquicker. A couple of muskets lay on the sand close beside theluncheon-cloth, and in a trice she had snatched up one of them, andheld our host covered. 

"You have deceived us, sir, " she said quietly. 

Dr. Beauregard looked along the barrel and into her eyes with anadmiring, half-quizzical smile. 

"Good, " said he. "Good, but unnecessary. That the island isinhabited I supposed you to know, since Captain Branscome tells me hereported catching sight of smoke yesterday when off the westerncoast; but the fellows--there are, or were, three of them, by theway--are no friends of mine. "

"We have only your word for it, " said Miss Belcher, without loweringher musket. 

"True, ma'am, " the Doctor assented, with a bow. "I am about to giveyou proof. But first of all oblige me by listening for anothermoment. "

He held up his hand, and while we all listened I looked around fromface to face. Captain Branscome had unslipped his gun, and stoodeyeing the Doctor with a puzzled frown. Plinny stared up at thecliffs. She was white to the lips, but the lips were firmly set;whereas Mr. Goodfellow's jaw hung as though loosed from itstacklings. 

So we waited for twenty seconds, maybe; but no third scream came downfrom the heights. 

"That makes one accounted for, " said Dr. Beauregard. "I have known, first and last, eleven parties who hunted treasure on this island. They all quarrelled. They quarrelled, moreover, every one of them, before getting their stuff--such as it was--to the boats. Now, ifyou will permit me to say so, your own success--when you obtain it--will be a fluke and an absurd fluke. It will stultify every rule ofprecaution and violate every law of chance. I have studied this gamefor close upon twenty years, and reduced it almost to mathematics;and I foresee that you will play--nay, you have already played--ninepins with my most certain conclusions. But you have asgentlefolks, with all the disabilities of gentlefolks, the one thingthat all these experts have fatally lacked. You have self-command. "

"It appears to me that we need it, at any rate, " said Miss Belcher, tartly, "if we are to be favoured just now with a lecture. "

Dr. Beauregard smiled. "The purport of my lecture, ma'am, was toprepare you for a question which I have to put. When these menarrive, Captain Branscome, Mr. Goodfellow, and I must deal with them. Are you ladies prepared to exercise strong self-control? Will you, with Harry Brooks, await us here until our business is over?"

"Excuse me, sir, but I must first know what your business is. "

"That, ma'am, will depend upon circumstances; but it is more thanlikely to be serious. "

"I must trouble you, now and always, to speak to me definitely. If you propose to shoot these men, kindly say so. "

"I do not, ma'am. But their boat lies on the next beach, and as soonas they launch her they will discover us; and as soon as theydiscover us it will be life for life. "

"But they need not discover us. In five minutes we can embarkourselves and our belongings; in less than fifteen we can round thepoint to the south'ard, and beyond it lie two or three small coveswhere, as I judged in passing, a boat can lie reasonably safe fromobservation. "

"Admirably reasoned, ma'am. By all means take the boat--take HarryBrooks with you, and Mr. Goodfellow for protection. But CaptainBranscome and I must stay and see it out with these men. "

"For my part, " put in Plinny, "I cannot see why these men have not asmuch right as we to the treasure; and, in any case, if we let them gothey leave us a clear coast to hunt for the rest. "

"Captain Branscome"--Dr. Beauregard turned to him--"do these ladies, as a rule, assert a voice in your dispositions?"

"They do, sir, " answered the Captain, with a tired smile; "and if youwill take my advice, the only way with them is to make a clean breastof everything. "

"I will. " The Doctor faced about, with a smile. "You must know then, ladies, that these two ruffians--for by this time there are twoonly--will presently be coming down to the next beach to launch theirboat and leave the island. How do I know this? Because my study oftreasure-hunters has given me a kind of instinct; or because, if youprefer it, I have observed that the moment--the crucial moment--whenthese fellows quarrel is always the moment when, having laid hands onas much as they can carry, they turn to retreat. You doubt mydiagnosis, ma'am?" he asked, turning to Miss Belcher. "Then I canconvince you even more simply. These men are not camping hereto-night; they will not return to-morrow to fetch a second load; andfor the sufficient reason that there is no second load. I know theamount of treasure hidden where they have been searching. Two mencan lift and carry it easily. "

"How do you happen to know this?" asked Miss Belcher, eyeing him fromunder contracted brows. 

"For the excellent reason, ma'am, that I put the treasure theremyself. "

The answer, staggering to the rest of us, seemed to brace hertogether. She had lowered her musket at the beginning of thediscussion; but now, throwing up her head with a sharp jerk, shelevelled her eyes on Dr. Beauregard's, as straight as though theylooked along a gun-barrel. 

"Then it can hardly be for the sake of the treasure, sir, that youpropose to deal with these men. "

"It is not, ma'am. "

"Nor solely to protect us from them, since you have brought us here, where we need never have come. "

"No, ma'am. I brought you here because I cannot be in two places atonce, and it was necessary to keep both parties under my eye. Having brought you, I am bound to protect you; but my main businesshere, and yours--or at any rate Captain Branscome's--is to punish. "

"To punish? But why to punish?"

Dr. Beauregard hesitated, with a glance at Plinny and at me, whostood beside her. 

"A word in your ear, ma'am--if you will allow me?"

He stepped close to Miss Belcher, and spoke a sentence or two which Icould not catch. But my eyes were on her face, and I saw it changecolour. The next moment her square mouth shut like a trap. 

"If that be so, I wait for him along with you, " she announced. "Oh, you may trust me, sir! I have a fairly strong stomach withcriminals, and no sentiment. "

"It shall be as you please, ma'am. But, for the others, I wouldsuggest their taking the boat and awaiting us around the point. See, the tide has risen, and within five minutes she will float. Mr. Goodfellow, will you accompany Miss Plinlimmon and the boy?Wait, please, until completely afloat before pushing off; for ourfriends must be near at hand by this time, and the grating of herkeel might give them the alarm. For the same reason, ma'am, unlessyou have any particular question to ask, we had best start at once, and, when we have started, keep the strictest silence. Shall I leadthe way?"

They set off very cautiously, the Doctor leading, Miss Belcher closeat his heels. Captain Branscome a couple of paces behind her; gainedthe ridge, and passed out of sight around an angle of the rocks. Now, to be left in this fashion was not at all to my mind. It seemed to me that, when serious business was on hand, every oneconspired to treat me as a baby. I had told Captain Branscomeyesterday that I would not put up with it; and though I stood in fargreater awe of Dr. Beauregard than of the Captain, I felt none theless mutinous now. Plinny, who in moments of agitation invariablyhad recourse to some familiar work for a sedative, was on her kneesrepacking the luncheon-baskets. Her back was turned to me, and fromher I glanced towards Mr. Goodfellow, who had stepped down to theboat, and was leaning over the gunwale to rearrange the gear. From him I looked up the beach, to the ridge behind which the othershad disappeared, and to the creepers overhanging the cliff. Suddenly it came into my head that by gaining the upper end of theridge, where it met the cliff, I could wriggle under these creepers, and observe from behind them all that went on, as well on the nextbeach as on this. And with another glance at Plinny's back I tiptoedaway. 

I moved as swiftly as I dared, making no noise, nor looked behind meuntil I reached the rocks under the cliff--the path by which Mr. Goodfellow had crept round to scuttle the boat. 

I calculated that by working my way along for fifty yards betweenthem and the rock-face I should gain an opening which, observed frombelow, had seemed to promise me an excellent view of the next beach. But they hung so heavily that I found myself struggling in an almostimpenetrable thicket; and when at length I gained the opening, anddrew breath, above the splash of waves on the beach I heard a soundwhich caused me to huddle back like a rabbit surprised in the mouthof its burrow. 

Some three yards from my hiding the bank of low cliff bounding thebeach shelved upward and inland in a stretch of short turf, and fromthe head of this slope came the thud of footsteps--of heavy footstepsdescending closer and closer. 

I drew back under the creepers, and held my breath. Between theirthick woven strands my eyes caught only, to the right, a twinkle ofthe sea; in front, a yard or two of white shingle glittering beyondthe green shade; and, five seconds later, this patch was blotted outas two men plunged past my spyhole. They walked abreast, and carrieda box between them. I could hear them panting, so closely theypassed. 

They halted on the edge of the bank. 

"The boat's all right, " said one; and I heard him jump down upon theshingle. It seemed to me that I knew his voice. "Here, pass downthe blamed thing . . . D--n it all, man!"

"_I can't!_" whimpered the other. "S'help me, Bill, I can't. . . . I'm not used to it, and I ain't got the nerve. "

"Nerve? An' you call yourself a seaman! An' a plucky lot youboasted the night we signed articles. . . . Nerve? Why, you was thevery man to find fault with him. 'Couldn't stand his temper anotherday, ' you said; and must do something desprit. Those were your verywords. "

"I know it. I didn't think--"

"Oh, to hell with your 'didn't think'! The man's dead, an' cryin'won't bring him back. Much you'd welcome him, if he _did_ comeback!"

"_Don't_, Bill!"

"Now, look you here, Jim Lucky! Stand you up, and help me get thislot in the boat, and the boat to sea. After that you can lie quietand cry yourself sick. . . . You'll be all right to-morrow, fit as afiddle. I've been in this business before, and seen how it takesmen, even the strongest. It's the sight o' blood; but the stomachgets accustomed. . . . By this day week you'll be lively as a flea ina rug, and lookin' forward to drivin' in your carriage-an'-pair. I promise you that; but what you've to do at this moment is to standup, and help me get down the boat. For if _he's_ anywhere on thisisland, God help the pair of us!"

"_He!_" quavered Jim Lucky. 

"I shouldn't wonder. "

"But you told me he was dead!"

"Did I? Well, perhaps I did. That was to keep your spirits up. But now I don't mind tellin' you that I'm not sure. He _ought_ tobe dead by this time; but 'tis a question if the likes of him everdie. He's own cousin to the devil, I tell you; and if he's anywherealive, like as not he's watching us at this moment. "

Whatever this meant, it appeared to rouse Jim Lucky, and start him ina panic. I heard him sob as he helped to lower their burden upon thebeach. All this time they had been standing immediately beneath me, and I dared not lift my head for a look. But now, as they wentstaggering down the beach, I parted the creepers, and stared in theirwake. They carried a heavy sea-chest between them, but my eyes wereneither for the chest nor for Jim Lucky, but for his companion, theman he called Bill. 

I knew him before I looked; and as I had recognized his voice, so nowI recognized his narrow, foxy head, and sloping shoulders. 

It was Aaron Glass. 

The two men carried the chest along at a rate that perhaps cameeasily enough to Jim Lucky, who was a young giant of a seaman, butwas astonishing for a thin, windlestraw of a man such as Glass. He ploughed his way across the sands like a demon, and had scarcelyset down the chest, a little above the water's edge, before he wastugging at the boat. I heard him call to Lucky to help, and the pairheave-y-hoe'd together as they strained at the gunwale to lift herand run her down. 

From this ridge, as yet, came no sign. 

Presently from the boat--they had pulled her down to the water, andwere both stooping over her with their shoulders well inside, busy inarranging her bottom board--I heard a fearful oath; an oath that rosein a scream, as the two men faced each other, scared, incredulous. 

"_Scuttled, by God!_"

It was Glass who screamed it out, and with the sound of it a host ofsea-birds rose from the neighbouring rocks, whitening the sky. But Jim Lucky cast up both hands and ran. 

"Stop, you fool! Stop!"

I think the poor creature had no notion whither he ran; that he wasmerely demented. But, in fact, he headed straight for the ridge, not turning his head. Twice Glass called after him; then, in asudden fury, whipped out a pistol and fired. For the moment Isupposed that he had missed, for the man ran for another six strideswithout seeming to falter, then his knees weakened, and he pitchedforward on his face. 

I believe, on my word, that Glass had either fired in blind passionor with intent to stop the man rather than to kill him. He stood andstared; and, while the pistol yet smoked in his hand, I saw Dr. Beauregard step forth from his shelter, step delicately past thecorpse, and raise his musket; and heard his clear, resonant voicecall out--

"Both hands up, Mr. Glass, if you please!"

CHAPTER XXXII. 

WE COME TO DR. BEAUREGARD'S HOUSE. 

Glass's arm fell limp by his side, as though Dr. Beauregard hadactually pulled the trigger and winged him. He turned half-about asthe pistol slid from his fingers. He gave no cry; only there leachedus a loose, throttling sound such as a steam whistle makes beforefetching its note. It came to us in the lull between two waves thatbroke and raised up the sands to ripple round his feet. 

"_Both_ hands up, Mr. Glass!"

Dr. Beauregard advanced a step. 

But instead of lifting his arms, the man curved them before him, andheld them so, as if to protect his treasure, while he sank on hisknees beside the box. His face was yellow with terror. 

"You fool!" The Doctor, still holding him covered, advanced step bystep to the box, and bent over it, staring down at him. The rest ofus--that is to say, Miss Belcher, Captain Branscome, and I--under Iknow not what compulsion, followed and came to a halt a few pacesbehind him. Standing so, I felt, rather than saw, that Plinny andMr. Goodfellow, attracted by the report of the pistol, were peeringat us over the ridge of rocks on the right. 

"You fool!" Dr. Beauregard repeated, and suddenly dropped the butt ofhis musket upon the loose cover of the chest. 

"You fool!" said he, a third time, and tearing aside a splinteredboard, dipped his hand and held it up full of sparkling stones. Opening his fingers slowly, he let a few jewels rattle back upon theheap, and held out a moderate fistful towards the cowering Glass. "Did you actually suppose, having proved me once, that I would suffersuch a common cut-throat as you to march off with my treasure?Look up at me, man! I charge you with having murdered Coffin, evenas you have just murdered that other poor blockhead who trusted you. "He nodded sideways--but still keeping his eyes upon Glass--towardsthe body, which lay as it had fallen. "Answer me. Are you guilty?Yes or no?"

The man's mouth worked, but his tongue crackled in his mouth like aparched leaf. 

"Yes, I know what you would say; that you had some excuse--thatCoffin in his time had stuck at nothing to be quit of you; that hesold you to the press-gang; that through Coffin you spent eight, ten--how many years?'--in the war-prisons; that he believed you dead, as he had taken pains to kill you. Well, we'll grant it. As betweentwo scoundrels I'll not trouble to weigh the rights against thewrongs. But look at this boy, here. You recognize him, hey? Icharge you with having murdered his father, Major Brooks, as youmurdered Coffin. You have run up a pretty long account, my friend, for so clumsy a performer; but I think you have reached the end ofit. "

Aaron Glass looked at me and blinked. Terror of the man confrontinghim had twisted his dumb mouth into a kind of grin horrible to see. It lifted his lip, like the snarl of a dog, over his yellow teeth. Dr. Beauregard laughed softly. 

"And all for what? For an imperfect chart--and for _these!_"He thrust his hand close up to Glass's face, and spread his fingerswide, letting the gems drip between them, and rain back into thetreasure-chest. "What's wrong with them? That's what you'd beasking--eh?--if your poor tongue could find the words. Well, onlythis, my friend--yes, look well at them--that I hid them myself, andevery one of them is false. "

"False!" I could see Glass's mouth at work, his lips forming to theecho of the word, as it struck across his terror like a whip. But heachieved no articulate sound. 

"I give you my word--" resumed Dr. Beauregard; but a thud interruptedhim. Glass had fallen forward in a faint, striking his foreheadagainst the edge of the chest, and lay face downward--with the bloodoozing from his temple and discolouring the sand. As the Doctorpaused and bent over him, another wave came rippling up the beach, throwing a long, thin curve of foam before it, and washed out thestain. 

"Is--is he dead?" I heard Plinny's voice quavering. 

"Not yet, ma'am, " answered the Doctor, grimly; and, taking theinanimate body by the collar, he drew it above reach of the waves, and turned it over. 

"You are a doctor, sir?"

"Yes, ma'am, and have some small skill. " He put up a hand to hisbreast-pocket, half withdrew it, and hesitated. "You have baulked meof a pretty little scheme, " he said quietly. And still while headdressed us he seemed to be considering. "Think of this fellow'sface when he got his treasure across to the mainland and attempted totrade it! To be sure, he gave us some fun for our pains--"

"If you call it fun, sir, " protested Plinny. 

"Well, yes, ma'am, " he answered quietly, kneeling and lifting Glass'shead, and resting it across his thigh. "My humour may be of aprimitive sort, but I confess it tickled by shocking a murderer intoa fainting fit. " He felt in his breast-pocket and drew forth a smallphial. "No, sir, "--he turned to Captain Branscome, who had steppedforward to offer his help--"let me alone, please. I prefer to treatmy patient in my own way. It will be best, on the whole, foreverybody. "

He forced Glass's mouth wide open, and with one hand poured abouthalf of the contents of the phial between the patient's teeth, dropby drop, very patiently, with the other smoothing the gullet betweenfinger and thumb. 

We all stood watching while he administered the dose, Miss Belcherclose beside me, with her hand on my shoulder. At the twentieth dropor so I felt her give a start, as though a thought had suddenlyoccurred to her, and I looked up into her face. Her eyes were fixedinquiringly on Dr. Beauregard, and he, happening also to look up, metthem with a smile. 

"You will see in a moment, " he said, as if answering her thought, and, reaching forward, he laid two fingers on Glass's pulse. "Yes, in a moment now. "

Sure enough, in a moment Glass's eyelids fluttered a little, and hecame back to life with an audible catch of the breath. 

"In two minutes' time, sir"--the Doctor turned to CaptainBranscome--"I shall be glad of your services, and of Mr. Goodfellow's, to carry the fellow down to the boat--that is to say, if, in deference to the ladies, you have really decided not to leavehim here to his fate. He will sleep after this; nay, if you willlisten, he is sleeping already. The other man is dead, I suppose?"

"He must have died instantly, " answered Captain Branscome, who hadstepped across to the body to assure himself. 

"I had no doubt of it, by the way he dropped. Well, there is no needto fetch a spade. Their thoughtfulness provided one. You will findit in the boat there. "

Half an hour later we embarked, leaving behind us on the beach ascuttled boat, a mound of sand, and a chest of false jewellery, overthe top of which the rising tide had already begun to lap. 

Aaron Glass lay along the bottom boards, asleep and breathingapoplectically. I pulled the stroke paddle, Mr. Goodfellow the bow, and the Captain steered. Dr. Beauregard addressed himself to theladies, of whom Miss Belcher sat with a corrugated brow, as thoughturning a thought over and over in her mind, and Plinny with scaredeyes, staring into vacancy. 

"I am sorry, indeed, ladies, " said the Doctor, "that I could not havespared you this. The fool shot his mate--you saw it yourselves--without rhyme or reason. Against madness, and the impulses ofmadness, no man can calculate. I might plead, too, that in anundertaking like this you match yourselves against forces with whichit is not given to ladies to cope. I grant admiringly the couragethat brought you across thousands of miles to Mortallone, as I grant, and again admiringly, the steadiness of your behaviour thisafternoon. But one thing you did not know--that in the nature ofthings you were bound to meet with such men and see such things done. I have not lived beside treasure all these years without learningthat it attracts such men as carrion attracts the vultures. Hide itwhere you will, from the end of the earth _some_ bird of prey willspy it out, or at least some scent of it will lie and draw suchprowlers as this fellow. " Dr. Beauregard touched the sleeping mancontemptuously with the toe of his boot. "I myself have been--shallwe say?--fortunate. I have emptied, or assisted to empty, two cachesof treasure in this island. A third remains, of which you have thesecret, and I believe it to be the richest of all. But before youattempt it, I have a mind to tell you something of the other two, that at least you may not attempt it unwarned. "

"You may spare yourself the pains, sir, " said Miss Belcher, decisively; "since our minds are made up. You might, I doubt not, succeed in frightening us; but since you will not deter us, I suggestthat the less we hear the better. "

The Doctor bowed. "Ah, madam, " sighed he, "if only Fate had timedyour adventure two years ago; or if, departing with the treasure, youcould even now leave me to regrets--in peace!"

"My good sir, " said Miss Belcher, sharply, "I haven't a doubt youmean something or other; but what precisely it is, I cannotconceive. "

"You will go, madam, leaving my island twice empty. That is Fate, and I consent with Fate. But the devil of it is, ma'am--if I may usethe expression--your removing the treasure will not prevent otherscoming to look for it, and annoying an old age which has ceased toset store on wealth, or on anything that wealth can purchase. "

She looked at him oddly. "Well, now, " she confessed, "you are amystery to me in half a dozen ways; but if on top of all you mean toturn pious--"

He laughed, and when the laugh was done it seemed to prolong itselfinside him for fully half a minute. 

"You are right, ma'am. Let us be practical again; and, as the firstpractical question, let me ask you, or Captain Branscome, what youpropose to do with this man? Obviously, we cannot take him alongwith us after the treasure. "

"Well, I imagine we are returning to the schooner. He can be left onboard, in charge of Mr. Rogers. "

"But I was about to suggest that we take Mr. Rogers along with us. In some ways, he is the most active of the party, and we can hardlyspare him. "

"Of Goodfellow, then, or whomsoever Captain Branscome may appoint totake charge of the ship. "

The Doctor sat silent, as though busy with a thought that hadsuddenly occurred to him. After a minute, he lifted his head andthrew a quick glance upward at the sky. 

"The breeze is freshening again, Captain, " he announced. "If youcare to hoist sail, the rowers can take a rest, at least until wereach Cape Fea. "

Captain Branscome gave permission to hoist sail, and soon we wererunning homeward with as much as we could carry. There was nodanger, however, for beyond the northern point of Try-again Inlet thewater lay smooth all along the shore. Dr. Beauregard here called onPlinny to admire the scenery, and, borrowing her sketchbook andpencil, dashed off a bold drawing of Cape Fea as, rounding a littleto the westward, we caught sight of it standing out boldly againstthe afternoon sun. As he drew it, he guided the talk gently back toordinary topics--to England and English scenery, to the charm ofEnglish domestic architecture, and particularly of our great countryseats, to gardens and gardening, of which he professed himself adevotee. 

"Ah, " he sighed at length, drawing a long breath; "if you, myfriends, only knew how much of what is happiest in life you carry inyour own breasts! I used--forgive me--to laugh at such pleasures asI am enjoying at this moment, I see that nothing but gaiety and asimple heart can bring a man peace at the last--and now it is toolate to begin!"

Plinny, not understanding in the least, opened wide eyes upon him. His tone seemed to ask for her pity. 

"Yes, yes. I have sought hard for pleasure and grudged no price forit; but the stuff I bought was all flash and sham--like this fool'sdiamonds--flash and sham, and the end of it weariness. Well, thereis money left. You shall take it and endow a hospital if you choose, and that no doubt will increase your happiness and make it thrive. But the root of the plant lies within you. Pardon me, ma'am"--helooked towards Miss Belcher--"the question sounds an impudent one, Iknow, but are you not, even for England, a well-to-do lady?"

"I have a trifle more than my neighbours, " owned Miss Belcher. "But it's almost more plague than blessing; at least I call it so, sometimes, which is a different thing from being ready to give itup. "

"And you, ma'am?" He turned to Plinny. 

"I have enough for my needs, I thank God, " she answered. "But I haveknown what it is to be poor. "

"Quite so, " he nodded. "And yet you have come thousands of miles, you two, in search of treasure!"

At the entrance of Gow's Gulf we downed sail and took to our paddlesagain. The tide helped us against the breeze and within half an hourwe came in sight of the schooner lying peacefully at anchor as we hadleft her. 

So, at least, and at first glance, it seemed; but as we drew near, Captain Branscome stood up suddenly, the tiller-lines in his hands. 

"Hallo! Where's the dinghy?"

It was gone; and--what was worse--our repeated hails fetched noanswering hail from the ship. But just as we were beginning to feelseriously alarmed a voice shouted from the opposite shore, and Mr. Rogers came sculling out from the shadow of the woods, working thedinghy towards us with a single paddle overstern. 

"Sorry, Captain!" he hailed. "Two deserters in two days! Oh, we'rea cheerful team to drive! But I have my excuse ready. The factis--" Here, catching sight of Dr. Beauregard, Mr. Rogers stoppedshort. 

"I fancy, " said the Doctor, amiably, turning to Captain Branscome, "your friend has not his excuse so ready as he supposed. Doubtlesshe'll impart it to you later on. Meanwhile, I would suggest that wetake him along with us. "

"But where are we going?" asked Captain Branscome. 

"To my house. Ah, it is news to you that I have one? You supposed, perhaps, that the Lord Proprietor of Mortallone roosted at night inthe trees? But where, in that case, would he stack his wine?My dear sir, I have a house, _and_ cellarage, to the both of whichyou shall be made welcome. Even if you decline my hospitality wehave the invalid here to dispose of, and surely you won't condemn aman of my years to carry him home pick-a-back!"

"But the schooner--"

"I give you my word of honour, sir, that your ship shall not bevisited nor tampered with in any way. Return when you will, youshall find her precisely as she lies now. In another two hours eventhis faint breeze will have died down, as you are seamen enough toknow. The anchorage is land-locked; the bottom is perfect holding;and as for unwelcome visitors, there can be none. I am the soleresident on this island!"

I looked up at Dr. Beauregard sharply; and so, it seemed to me, didMr. Rogers, who had fallen alongside. 

"That is to say, " continued the Doctor, quietly, without regardingeither of us, "the only male resident. "

"All the same I don't like it, " persisted the Captain, and shook hishead, at the same time lifting his eyes towards Miss Belcher; "andit's clear against my rule. "

"Stuff and nonsense!" said Miss Belcher. "We ought to be gratefulto Dr. Beauregard for taking this creature Glass off our hands. I was thinking a moment ago that for a thousand pounds I'd rather hewas anywhere than on board our ship. The least we can do is to beara hand with him; and if we don't like the house we can come away. "

"And before nightfall, if you insist, " added Dr. Beauregard, genially. "But the afternoon is young, and between now and nightfallyou may all have made your fortunes. Who knows?"

Captain Branscome yielded, after a look at Plinny, who backed up MissBelcher, declaring herself ardent for new adventures. I began to seethat the Captain was wax in the hands of these two, and it puzzledme, who had some experience of him both in school and on shipboard. 

Instead, then, of heading for the ship, we rowed past her and up thecreek--Mr. Rogers following in his dinghy--and disembarked at thelanding-place under the green knoll. While Dr. Beauregard and Mr. Goodfellow lifted out Aaron Glass, and while the Captain explained toMr. Rogers where and how we came by such a passenger, I stared aboutme, wondering where the Doctor's house might be and where theapproach to it. For I remembered the narrow gorge leading up to thewaterfalls and the thick, precipitous woods on either hand; and how, such a party as ours, including two ladies and a sick man, could hopeto penetrate those woods or climb those waterfalls was a puzzle. 

In ten minutes Mr. Goodfellow had patched up a fairly serviceablelitter with the boat's sail and a couple of paddles. Dr. Beauregardbestowed the patient in it carefully enough, and when all was ready, led the way. The two carriers, Mr. Rogers and Mr. Goodfellow, camenext with the litter between them, and at a nod from the former Ifell in beside him. The Captain and the two ladies brought up therear. 

"Harry, " whispered Mr. Rogers, as we wound our way round the knoll, "is this really the man who--"

"This is Aaron Glass, " I said. 

He stared down--for he carried the hinder end of the litter--upon thevillainous, unconscious face. 

"He looks a pretty bad one, " said Mr. Rogers, after a pause. 

"You should have seen him on the beach, " said I. 

"I've seen something myself, " said he. "Closer, boy--there was awoman came down to the shore just now, waving to the ship and crying. At first I took her for a child. She was dressed all in white--whitemuslin and ribbons, you know--the sort of rig you see at a children'sparty; but when I rowed over close to her--"

"I know her, " I said. "I met her in the woods yesterday. "

"That explains; though I call it an infernal shame you didn't tell. I rowed across to find out what ailed her: she stood waving her armsso, and crying--like a child in distress. When I came near shecalled on to me to stop. 'Not you, ' she said, 'the little boy!Where is the little boy?' I told her that we had a boy on board, butthat just now you were off on a cruise; and with that she turnedright about, and ran up through the woods and out of sight; but forsome way I could hear her crying and calling out just as before:'The little boy!' it was; 'Where is the little boy?'--meaning you, Isuppose. "

We were now come to the foot of the first waterfall, an obvious_cul de sac_ for a party which included two ladies and a sick man ona litter. I stood gazing up at the wet, slippery rocks by which Ihad made my ascent yesterday, and searching in vain for a morepracticable path. Dr. Beauregard halted and turned upon me with asmile. 

"A moment, " said he, "and you will grant that my privacy is ratherneatly protected. But first"--he pointed to the water pouring pastus from the pool beneath the fall--"you may remark that the streamhere has more than twice the volume of the stream you see coming downthe rocks. "

I looked. The difference was plain enough, and I had been a fool infailing to observe it. 

"The reason being, " he went on, "that a second and larger streamflows into the pool under the very stones on which you are standing. I myself laid that channel for it, almost ten years ago, and Naturehas very kindly helped to disguise it. Now, if you will follow me--"

He drew aside a mat of creepers overhanging a bush to the left of thepath, and, stooping, disappeared into a dim, green tunnel, soartfully contrived that even without its curtain of creepers itsuggested no more than a chance gap in the undergrowth. The tunnelzigzagged twice at a sharp angle, and then, quite suddenly, thedimness changed to warm sunlight, and we emerged at his heels upon aprospect that well excused my gasp of astonishment. 

We stood at the lower end of a smooth, green glade, through which abroad stream--a river, almost--came swirling, its murmur drowned inthe thunder of the waterfall behind us, which the bushes nowconcealed. The glade was, in fact, a valley-bottom, thinned ofundergrowth and set with tall trees; and the stream such a stream astumbles through many an English deer-park. The whole scene mighthave been transplanted from England but for a wall of naked cliff, sharply serrated, which enclosed the valley on the left. And underit, like a smooth military terrace at the foot of a fortress, theglade curved upward and out of sight. 

The scene, I have said, was almost typically English--but to the eyeonly. 

"Faugh!" exclaimed Miss Belcher, looking about her and sniffingsuspiciously. "A pretty place enough, but full of malaria, or I'm aDutchwoman! And what a horrible silence!"

"Malaria?" said Mr. Rogers, quietly. "There's better scent thanmalaria in this valley, and we're hot on it. Here's the river, and--What does the chart say, boy? Five trees, a mile and a half from thecreek-head? We must have come a mile already. Keep your eyesskinned, and give me a nudge if you see such a clump. "

But there was no need to keep my eyes skinned. At the next bend ofthe glade he and I caught sight of it simultaneously--a clump ofnoble pines that would have challenged notice even had we not beensearching for them. My heart stood still as I counted them. Yes; there were five!

"I haven't often wanted to put a knife into a man's back, " gruntedMr. Rogers, with a gloomy glance ahead at Dr. Beauregard. 

For an instant I made sure the Doctor had overheard him. He haltedsuddenly, and turned to us with a proprietary wave of the handtowards the trees. 

"A fine group, sirs, is it not? I have often regretted thatthe cliff yonder just cuts off the view of it from my windows. Indeed, I had almost altered the site of the house to include it. But health before everything--hey, ladies? There is always a certainamount of fever in these valleys, and you will own, presently, thatthe site I prepared has its compensations. "

He resumed his way past the trees, and--a quarter of a mile beyondthem--past an angle of the cliff where the ridge bent sharply backfrom the river and revealed a narrow gorge, its entrance choked withpines, running up towards the mountain. Here he paused again, andwith another wave of the hand. 

High on the right of the gorge, on a plateau above the darkpine-tops, a white-painted house looked down on us--a long, low housewith a generous spread of shadow under its verandah and a dazzle oflight where the upper windows took the sun. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

WE FIND THE TREASURE. 

"I've a strong sense of the right of property, " said Miss Belcher, sipping her tea. 

We had gathered in Dr. Beauregard's deep verandah, at the cornerwhere it took the late afternoon sunshine. The level rays sparkledon the silver and delicate Worcester china of the Doctor's teaequipage, and fell through the open French window into the Doctor'sdrawing-room. A wonderful room it was, as everything in the housewas wonderful, a spacious, airy room, furnished in white and gold, with Dresden figures on the mantelshelf; Venetian mirrors, daintywater-colours sunk into the panels, cases of rare books (among them, as I remember, a set of the Cabinet des Fees, bound in rose-colouredmorocco and stamped with the Royal arms of France), stands of music, and a priceless harpsichord inlaid with ivory. Next to the airinessof the house, which stood high above reach of the valley mists withtheir malaria, what most sharply impressed me, and the ladies inparticular, was its exquisite cleanliness. Yet Dr. Beauregardassured us that he kept but one servant--the negress Rosa. 

At her master's call she had appeared in the verandah above us as wemounted the last terrace towards the house, and had stood therewatching our ascent with no trace of surprise, or, indeed, of anyemotion whatever, on her black, inscrutable face. Her eyes met mineas though she had never seen me before. To her care Dr. Beauregardhad given over the still unconscious Glass, and, with a sign to Mr. Rogers and Mr. Goodfellow to follow her with their burden, she hadled the way through the house to the bedroom at the back. There, in a bed between spotlessly clean sheets, they had laid thepatient, and been dismissed by her. It was she who, less than tenminutes later, had brought our tea to us in the verandah, and withour tea many little plates heaped with small cakes and sweetmeats--all fresh, as though she had been expecting us for hours, and couldcommand the resources of a city. I kept a sharp look-out, but of thestrange lady--the lady of the graveyard--I could detect no trace. Nothing indicated her presence, unless it were the dainty femininefurniture of the drawing-room. 

"I've a strong sense of the right of property, " said Miss Belcher, sipping her tea and touching the oilskin wrapper, which lay in herlap unopened as Captain Branscome had handed it to her; and so hasJack Rogers here. You tell me, sir, that you hold Mortallone bygrant, and doubtless you can show your title. "

"Willingly, madam. " Dr. Beauregard rose, and stepped to the Frenchwindow. "You can read Spanish?" he asked, turning there and pausing. 

"Not a word", answered Miss Belcher. The Doctor smiled. "It wouldimpart nothing it you could, " said he, with a smile, "for I will ownto you frankly that Mortallone has always been under suspicion ofcontaining treasure, and in the grant all treasure-trove is expresslyreserved. I cannot say, " he added, smiling again, "that I havestrictly observed the clause; but, as between you and me, it legallydisposes of my claim. "

"Thank you, " said Miss Belcher; "but I don't own an equally tenderconscience towards Governments. " Here Mr. Rogers winked at me, foras a patron of smugglers Miss Belcher enjoyed some reputation, evenfor a Cornish landowner. "We will leave Government out of thequestion; but as proprietor--lord of the manor, as we should say athome--you have a right to your share; and that, by English law--whichI suggest we follow--is one-third. "

Dr. Beauregard bowed. "I'm infinitely obliged to you, ma'am, and Imake no doubt that what you so generously promise you will ashonourably give--when I claim it. In truth, I have something morethan enough for my needs. There was a time (I will confess) when Ihad sold my soul, if I possessed such a thing, for a glimpse of whatlies written on that parchment. But I am old; and old age--"He broke off the sentence and did not resume it, but went onpresently, with a change of tone: "However, I still keep a sportinginterest in the treasure, which has baffled me all these years, themore so because I have a shrewd suspicion that it has lain all thewhile within a mile or so of where we sit at this moment. "

"It does, sir, " said Miss Belcher, unfolding the chart and pointing. 

Dr. Beauregard adjusted a pair of gold-rimmed eyeglasses and benttowards it. The writing was indistinct, and he put out a hand as ifto take hold of the edge of the parchment and steady it. The hand, Inoticed, did not tremble at all. 

"Stay a moment, sir. " Miss Belcher turned the chart over. "The clueis given here, upon the back. Listen. " And she translated:--

 "'Right bank of river a mile and a half up from Gow Creek. Centre tree in clump of five: branch bearing north and half a point east: two forks--'"

"My trees!" exclaimed the Doctor. "You remember my halting andpointing them out to you? Ah, yes, and I, too, remember now that youappeared to be disconcerted. You recognized them, of course?"

"Yes, we recognized them, " Miss Belcher admitted. But let mefinish:--"

 "'Right fork, four feet. Red cave under hill, four hundred and seventy-five yards from foot of tree, N. N. W. The stones here, under rock four spans, left side'"

"--Which means, I suppose, that the cave lies some way up the face ofthe rock, and can only be seen by climbing out upon the right fork ofthe tree; and that the stones--that is to say, the jewels--are hiddenunder a rock to the left; which rock either measures four spans orlies, four spans within the entrance of the cave. "

"I know of no such cave, ma'am, " said Dr. Beauregard, bending hisbrows. "Though, to be sure, the cliff is of a reddish colourthereabouts, due to a drip of water and the growth of some smallfungus. "

"I was a fool, " said Captain Branscome, "to leave the tools in thegig. If we go back to fetch them, sunset will be upon us before weget to work. "

The Doctor rose, with a smile. 

"You might have guessed, sir, that I am not unprovided with spadesand picks, or with ropes and a ladder, which also I foresee we shallneed. Come; if you have drunk your tea, I will ask you to follow meinto the house--the ladies included--and choose your outfit. "

They went in after him. I was in the act of following--I had, infact, taken a couple of steps towards the French window--when aslight shiver seemed to run through my hair, and I stood still. 

"Little boy!"

The words came in a whisper from the end of the verandah. I stoleback, and, leaning well across the rail, peered around the corner ofthe house. 

"Little boy!" whispered the voice again, and I saw the little lady ofthe graveyard. She was standing close back against theside-boarding, her body almost flattened against it. "Come, " shewhispered, beckoning with a timid glance over her shoulder towardsthe rear of the house. 

I looked at her for a second or two, and shook my head. 

"But you must come, " she insisted, still in a whisper, and took astep or two as if to entice me after her. Then she halted, and, seeing that I made no motion to follow, came tip-toeing back. 

"If you do not come, " she said, "he will kill you! He willsar-tain-ly kill you all!"

She nodded vehemently, and so, after another glance to right andleft, beckoned to me once again. Her face was white, almost as hermuslin frock, and something in it persuaded me to climb over theverandah-rail and follow her. 

About thirty yards from the corner of the house stood a clump ofodorous laurels, the scent of which we had been inhaling while we satat tea. For these she broke away at a run, nor looked back until shewas well within their shadow and I had overtaken her. 

"Good boy!" she said, nodding again and smiling at me with herdesperately anxious face. "I would wish--I would very much wish--tokiss you. But you mus' not come a-near"--she sighed--"it is nothealthy. Only you come with me. I dream of you, sometimes, all las'night. 'What a pity!' I dream, 'and you so pe-ritty boy!'Now you come with me, and I take you away so he never find you. "

The woman was evidently mad. 

"Please tell me what you have to say, " I urged, "and let me go back. They will be missing me in a minute or so. "

"If they miss you, it is no matter now. He will kill them all, he isso strong . . . As he killed all those others . . . You remember?See, now, pe-ritty boy, what I have done for you, to save you fromhim! He shut me up, in his other house--he has another house away upin the woods, beyond where we met. " She waved a hand towards thehills. "But I break out, and come here to save you. He would killme also, if he knew. "

Mad though I believed her, I was growing pretty thoroughlyfrightened, remembering the graveyard under the trees. "You forgetmy friends, " said I, speaking very simply, as to a child. "If hemeans to kill them, I ought to carry them warning. "

"He will not kill them till to-night, " she answered, shaking herhead. "It is always at night-time, when they are at supper. Thereis no hurry, little boy; but he will sar-tain-ly kill them, all thesame. "

I turned my head, preparing to run, for I heard Captain Branscome'svoice in the verandah, calling my name. 

"They are starting after the treasure. I must go, " I stammered. 

She drew close, and laid a hand on my arm. Again a dreadful odourwas wafted under my nostrils--an odour as of tuberoses, and I knownot what of corruption--and, as before in the graveyard, it turned meboth sick and giddy. 

"They will not find it, " she said, nodding with an air of childishtriumph. "Shall I tell you why? _I_ have hidden it!" Here she fellback on her old litany. "He would kill me if he knew . . . I hidit--oh, years ago! But come, and I will show you; and you shall takea great deal--yes, as much as you can carry--if only you will goaway, and never be rash again. "

A second time I heard Captain Branscome's voice calling to me, demanding to know where I had disappeared. 

She put a finger to her lips, smiling. "Such treasure you never didsee. . . . Even Rosa does not know. . . . Come, little boy!"

She pushed her way through the laurels, and I followed her. The edgeof the shrubbery overhung the dry bed of a torrent, in the cleft ofwhich, when we had lowered ourselves over the edge, we werecompletely hidden from the house. From the edge a slope of loosestones ran down to the bottom of the cleft, where a thin stream ofwater trickled. The stones slid with me, but not dangerously; and aswe scurried down--I in my thick boots, she in her diminutivedancing-shoes--I heard Plinny's voice join with Captain Branscome'sin calling my name. But by this time I was committed to theadventure, and by-and-by they desisted, supposing (as Plinny told melater) that I had taken French leave again, and run off to be firstat the clump of trees. 

We might not climb the slope directly in face of us; for, by so doing(even if it had been accessible, which I doubt), we should haveemerged into view. We therefore bent our way to the right up thebottom of the gorge, to a narrow tongue of rock dividing it, in theshelter of which we mounted the rough stairway of the torrent bedfrom one flat rock to another until we stepped out upon a shallowplateau where the contour of the hills shut off the house and itsterraces. We stood, as I judged, upon the reverse or northern sideof that ridge which to the south and west overlooked the valley ofthe treasure. Above the plateau a stone-strewn scarp of earth led tothe forest, which reached to the very summit of the ridge; andtowards the summit, after pausing for a second or two to pant andcatch her breath, my strange guide continued her climb. 

"What is your name, little boy?"

I told her, and she repeated it once or twice, to get it by heart. 

"You may call me 'Metta, " she said. "_He_ calls me 'Metta always, when he is pleased with me, and that is almost every day. He is kindto me; oh, yes, very kind--though terrible, of course. . . . Keep onmy left hand, Harry Brooks; so the breeze here will not blow from meto you. "

I drew up in a kind of giddiness, for that dreadful scent of deathhad touched me again. She, too, halted with a little cry of dismay, and a feeble motion of the hands, as if to wring them. 

"Ah, you must keep wide of me. . . . That is my suffering, HarryBrooks. I cannot bend over a flower but it withers, and thebutterflies die if they come near my breath . . . And that, too, is_his_ doing. He would be kind to me, he said, and would een-oculateme; yes, that is his word--een-oculate me, so that no poison couldever harm me. He knows the secrets of all the plants, and why peopledie of disease. Months at a time he used to leave me alone withRosa, and go to Havana, to the hospitals; and there he would studytill his body was wasted away with work; but at the end he would comeback, bringing visitors. Oh, many visitors! for he was rich, and thehouse had room for all. There were singers--he loves music--and menwho played all day at cards, and women who made me jealous. But hewould only laugh and say, 'Wait, little one. ' So I waited, and inthe end they all died. Rosa said it was the yellow fever; but no. "She held up both hands, and made pretence to pour something from animaginary bottle into an imaginary glass. "He can kill with one tinydrop. In his study he keeps a machine which makes water into ice. Rosa would carry round the ice with little glasses of curacoa, afterthe coffee was served; and all would say: 'What wonders are these?Ice in Mortallone!' and would drink his health. But _he_ nevertouched the ice. You tell that to your friends, little boy. But itwill not save them: for he will find some other way. "

As we went up the woods these awful confidences poured from her likechildish prattle, interrupted only by little ripples of laughter, half shy, half silly, and altogether horrible to hear. I hung back, divided between the impulse to tear myself away and the fearfulfascination of listening--between the urgent need to find and warn myfriends, and the forlorn hope to extract from her something thatmight save them. The toil of the climb had bathed me in sweat, andyet I shivered. 

I halted. We were close under the summit of the ridge, and hadreached a passing clearing where, between the trees, as I turnedabout, I could see the whole gorge in shadow at my feet, the sunlightwarm on its upper eastern slopes, and beyond these the sea. In halfan hour--in twenty minutes, maybe--I might reach the valley therebelow, and at least cry my warning. I faced round again to mycompanion. 

She had vanished. 

My mouth grew dry of a sudden. Was she a ghost? And her prattlingtalk--the voice yet singing in my brain--

"Little boy! Little boy!"

I parted the tall ferns. Beyond them a small hand beckoned, and, following it, I came face to face with a wall of naked rock fromwhich she lifted aside the creepers over a deep cleft--a cleft wideenough to admit a man's body if he turned sideways and stooped alittle. 

She clapped her hands at my astonishment. "You like my bower?" sheasked gleefully. "Ah, but wait, and I will show you wonders! No oneknows of it, not even Rosa. "

She wriggled her way through the cleft. I peered in, and went afterher cautiously, expecting, as the curtain of creepers fell behind me, to find myself in a dark cave or grotto. Dark it was, to be sure, but not utterly dark; and to my amazement, as my eyes grew accustomedto the gloom, the faint light came from ahead of me and seemed tostrike upwards from the bowels of the earth. 

"Do not be afraid, little boy! But hold your head low; and look toyour feet now, for it is steep hereabouts. "

Steep indeed it was. A kind of shaft, floored for the most part withslippery earth, but here and there with an irregular stairway ofrock; and still at the lower end of the tunnel shone a faint light. I would have given worlds by this time to retrace my steps. A slightdraught, blowing up the tunnel from my companion to me, bore theodour of death upwards under my nostrils; but this, while it dizziedand sickened me, seemed to clog my feet and take away all will toescape. I had nearly swooned, indeed, when my feet encountered levelearth again, and she put out a hand to steady me. 

"Is--is--this the end?"

"It goes down--down, little boy; but we need not follow it. See, there is light, to the left of you; light, and fresh air, _and_ my pretty bower. "

I turned as her hand guided me. A puff of wind blew on my cheek, cold and infinitely pure. I stood blinking in a short gallery thatended suddenly in blue sky, and, staggering forward, I cast myselfdown on the brink. 

It was as though I lay on the sill of a great open window. Belowme--far below--waved great masses of forest, and beyond these--farbeyond--shone the blue sea. I cannot say to what depth the clifffell away below me. It was more than sheer--it was undercut. I lay as one suspended over the void. 

"But see, pe-ritty boy! did I not promise you wonders?"

As I faced around to the darkness of the gallery, she held aloftsomething which, for the moment, I mistook for a great green snakewith lines of fire running from scale to scale and sparkling as shewaved it before me. I rolled over upon my elbow and stared. It wasa rope of emeralds. 

She flung an end over one shoulder and looped it low over her breast;then, passing the other end about her neck, she brought it forwardover the same shoulder and let it dangle. It reached almost to herfeet. 

"Does it become me, little boy?" She made me a mock curtsey that setthe gems dancing with fire. "Come and choose, then!" She put outboth hands to the darkness by the wall, and a whole cascade of jewelscame sliding down and poured themselves with a rush about her feetand across the floor of the gallery. She laughed and thrust herhands again into the heap. 

"All these I found--I myself--and carried up here from the darkness. Take what you will, little boy, and run back to your ship. Is it diamonds you will choose, or rubies, or--see here--this chainof pearls? I do not like pearls, for my part; they mean sorrow. But--see here, again!--there were boxes and boxes, all heaped to thebrim, and long robes sown all over with pearls. Take what you like--_he_ will not know. He gives me diamonds sometimes. I adored themin the old days, in opera. And he remembers and gives me a stonefrom time to time, to keep me amused. I laugh to myself, then, whenI think of the store I keep, here in my bower. And he so clever!But he does not guess. Ah, child, if I had had but these to wearwhen I used to sing Eurydice!"

She held out two handfuls of diamonds, and began to sing in a high, cracked voice, while she let them rain through her fingers. 

"But listen!" I cried suddenly. 

She ceased at once, and stood with her face half turned to thedarkness behind her, her arms rigid at her sides, the gems droppingas her hand slowly unclasped them. Below, where the tunnel ran downinto darkness, a voice hailed--

"'Metta! Is that 'Metta?"

It was the voice of Dr. Beauregard. The poor creature gazed at mehelplessly and ran for the stairway. But her feet sank in the looseheap of jewels; she stumbled; and, as she picked herself up, I sawthat she was too late; for already a light shone up from the tunnelbelow, and before she could gain the exit the Doctor stood there, lifting a torch, in the light of which I saw Mr. Rogers close behindhis shoulder. 

"'Metta!"

I do not think he would have hurt her. But as the torch flared inher face and lit up the shining heap of jewels, she threw up bothhands and doubled back screaming. I believed that she called to meto hide. I put out a hand to catch her by the skirt, seeing that sheran madly; but the thin muslin tore in my clutch. 

"'Metta!"

On the ledge, against the sky, the voice seemed to overtake andsteady her for a second; but too late. With a choking cry, she putout both hands against the void, and toppled forward; and in theentrance was nothing but the blue, empty sky. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

DOCTOR BEAUREGARD. 

"Glass? My dear madam, pardon my remissness; he is dead. Rosa brought me the news before we sat down to table. "

I opened my eyes. In the words, as I came back to consciousness, Ifound nothing remarkable, nor for a few seconds did it surprise methat the dark gallery had changed into a panelled, lighted room, withcandles shining on a long, white table, and on flowers and crystaldecanters, and dishes heaped with fruit. The candles were shaded, and from the sofa where I lay I saw across the cloth the faces ofMiss Belcher and Captain Branscome intent on the Doctor. He was leaning forward from the head of the table and speaking toPlinny, who sat with her back to me, darkly silhouetted against thelight. Mr. Rogers, on Plinny's left, had turned his chair sidewaysand was listening too; and at the lower end of the board a tallepergue of silver partially hid the form of Mr. Goodfellow. 

"Yes, indeed, I ought to have told you, " went on the Doctor's voice. "But really no recovery could be expected. The man's heart wasutterly diseased. "

His gaze, travelling past Plinny, wandered as if casually towards me, where I lay in the penumbra. I felt it coming, and closed my eyes;and on the instant my brain cleared. 

Yes; Glass was dead, of course, poisoned by this man as ruthlessly asthese my friends would be poisoned if I cried out no warning. . . . Or perhaps it had happened already. 

I opened my eyes again, cautiously, little by little. The Doctor wasfilling Plinny's glass. Having filled it, he pushed the decanterstowards Mr. Rogers, and turned to say a word to Miss Belcher, on hisright. No; there was time. _It_ had not happened--yet. 

I wanted to start up and scream aloud. But some power, stronger thanmy will, held me down against the sofa-cushion. I had lost all gripof myself--of my voice and limbs alike. I could neither stir norspeak, but lay watching with half-closed eyes, while the room swamand in my ears I heard a thin voice buzzing: "Tell your friends-theice--_he_ never touches the ice. But it will not save them. He willfind some other way. "

The door opened, and its opening broke the spell. On the thresholdstood the tall negress with a tray of coffee-cups, and on the tray asalver with a number of little glasses and a glass bowl--a bowl ofice. Her master pushed back the decanters to make room for the traybefore him. She set it down, and the little glasses jingled softly. 

"Upon my word, sir, " said Miss Belcher, "what wonder upon wonders isthis? Ice? And in Mortallone?"

"It is Rosa's little surprise, madame, and she will be gratified byyour--"

He pushed back his chair and, leaving the sentence unfinished, roseswiftly and came to me as I staggered up from the sofa. A cry workedin my throat, but before I could utter it his two hands were on myshoulders, and he had appealed to the company with a triumphantlittle laugh. 

"Did I not tell you the child would come to himself all right? Asimple sedative--after the fright he had. He's trembling now, poorboy. No, ma'am"--he turned to Plinny, who had risen, and was comingforward solicitously; "let him sit upright for a moment, while hecomes to his bearings. Or, better still, when you have finished yourcoffee--if Miss Belcher will be kind enough to pour it out for me--we will take him out into the fresh air. Yes, yes, and the soonerthe better, for I see that Mr. Rogers is fidgeting to be out andassure himself that the treasure has not taken wings. "

He forced me gently back to my seat, and walked to the table. 

"What were we saying? Ah, yes--to be sure--about the ice. "He lifted his coffee-cup with a steady hand, and, his eyes travellingover it, fixed themselves on me, as though to make sure I wasrecovering. "The ice is a surprise of Rosa's, and I assure you sheis proud of it. But (you may go, Rosa) I advise you to contentyourselves with wondering; for the water on these hills, strange tosay, is not healthy. "

They voted the Doctor's advice to be good, and, having finished theircoffee, wandered out into the fresh air. Plinny took my arm, and, leading me to the verandah, found me a comfortable seat, where Icould recline and compose myself, for I was trembling yet. 

"They have stacked the treasure there beyond the last window, " Plinnyinformed me, nodding towards the end of the verandah, where CaptainBranscome, Mr. Rogers, and Mr. Goodfellow were already gathered andbusy in conversation. "In bulk it is less than we expected, but invalue (the Doctor says) it goes beyond everything. Threehundredweight, they say, and in pure gems! He is to choose hisshare, by-and-by; and then we have to contrive how to take it down tothe ship. "

"Miss Plinlimmon, " said the Captain, coming towards us, "you promisedme a word yesterday. I should wish to claim it now--that is, ifHarry can spare you. "

I observed that his voice shook a little, but this I set down toexcitement. 

"Did I? Yes, I remember. "

Miss Plinlimmon's voice, too, was tremulous. She hesitated, and hereyes in the dim light seemed to seek mine. 

I assured her that I was recovering fast, here in the fresh air, andthat it would be a kindness, indeed, to leave me alone. She bentquickly and kissed me. I wondered why, as she stepped past theCaptain and he followed her down the verandah steps. 

I wished to be left alone. I was puzzled, and what puzzled mewas that neither Miss Belcher nor Dr. Beauregard had left thedining-room. In fact, as I passed out through the window, happeningto turn my head, I had caught sight of his face, and it had signalledto her to stay. I knew not why he should intend harm to Miss Belcherrather than to any other of our party. But I distrusted the man; andPlinny had scarcely left me before, having made sure that Mr. Rogersand Mr. Goodfellow were within easy call, I rose up softly, crept tothe dining-room window, and, dropping upon hands and knees close bythe wall, peered into the room. 

The Doctor and Miss Belcher had reseated themselves, He had pouredhimself out another glass of wine and was holding it up to the lightwith a steady hand, while she watched him, her elbows on the tableand her firm jaw resting on her clasped fingers. Her face, though itshowed no sign of fear, was pallid. 

"Yes, " he was saying slowly; "it is too late at this hour to bediscussing what the priests would call the sin of it. You wouldnever convince me; and if you convinced me, I am too old--and tooweary--for what the priests call repentance. I am Martin--the sameman that outwitted Melhuish and his crew--the same that played Harrywith this Glass, and the man Coffin, and a drunken old ruffian theybrought with them from Whydah! The fools! to think to frighten _me_, that had started by laying out a whole ship's crew! And now you comealong; and I hold you all in the hollow of my palm. But I open myhand--so--and let you go. "

"Why?"

"Why? I have told you. I am tired. "

"That is not all the truth, " answered Miss Belcher, eyeing himsteadily. 

"No; it is not all the truth. No one tells all the truth in thisworld. But I am glad you challenge me, for you shall have a littlemore of the truth. I let you go because you were simpletons, and Ihad not dealt with simpletons before. "

"Is _that_ the truth?" she persisted. 

He laughed and sipped his wine. 

"No; I let you go because I saw in you--I who have killed many forwealth and more for the mere pleasure of power--something which toldme that, after all, I had missed the secret. From an outcast childin Havana I had made myself the sole king of this treasure ofMortallone. I went back and made slaves of men and women who hadtossed that child their coppers in contemptuous pity. I brought themhere, to Mortallone, to play with them; and as soon as they tired me, they--went. It was power I wanted; power I achieved; and in power, as I thought, lay the secret. The tools in this world say that apoisoner is always a coward: it is one of the phrases with whichfools cheat themselves. For long I was sure of myself; and then, when the thought began to haunt me that, after all, I had missed thesecret, I sought out the man who, in Europe, had made himself morepowerful than kings; and I found that _he_ had missed the secret too. Then I guessed that the secret is beyond a man's power to achieve, unless it be innate in him; that the gods themselves cannot help aman born in bastardy, as I was, or born with a vulgar soul, as wasNapoleon. One chance of redemption he has--to mate with a woman whohas, and has known from birth, the secret which he has missed. I guessed it--I that had wasted my days with singing-women, such aspoor 'Metta! Then I met you, and I knew. Yes, madam, you--you, whose life to-night I had almost taken with a touch--taught me that Ihad left women out of account. Ah, madam, if the world were twentyyears younger! . . . Will you do me the honour to touch glasses anddrink with me?"

"Not on any account, " said Miss Belcher, rising. "Not to put toofine a point upon it, you make me feel thoroughly sick; but"--shehesitated on the threshold of the window"--the worst of it is, Ithink I understand you a little. "

I drew back into the shadow. Her stiff skirt almost struck me on thecheek as she passed, and, crossing the verandah, leant with bothhands on the rail, while her face went up to the sky and the newlyrisen moon. 

A voice spoke to her from the moonlit terrace below. 

"Hallo!" she answered. "Is that Captain Branscome?"

"It is, ma'am: _and_ Miss Plinlimmon--Amelia--as she allows me tocall her. "

Miss Belcher cut him short with a laugh. It rang out frank and freeenough, and only I, crouching by the wall, understood the hystericalsprings of it. 

"You two geese!" she exclaimed, and ran down the steps to them. 

"Was that Lydia?" demanded Mr. Rogers, a moment later, as he camealong the verandah. 

"It was, " I answered. 

"I don't understand these people, " grumbled Mr. Rogers, pausing andscratching his head. "There was to have been a meeting outside here, directly after supper, to divide off Doctor Beauregard's share; butconfound it if every one don't seem to be playing hide-and-seek!Where's the Doctor?"

"In the dining-room, " said I, nodding towards the window. . . . 

He stepped towards it. At that moment I heard a dull thud within theroom, and Mr. Rogers, his foot already on the threshold, drew backwith a cry. I ran to his elbow. 

On the floor, stretched at her master's feet, lay the negress Rosa. Dr. Beauregard stood by the corner of the table, and poured himself asmall glassful of curacoa. While we gazed at him he reached out ahand to the icebowl, selected a small piece, and dropped itdelicately into the glass. I heard it tingle against the rim. 

"Your good health, sirs!" said Dr. Beauregard. 

He sat back rigid in his chair. 

THE END.