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"Certainly; it's young Billy Wilson. You know—the lad who is always roaming the woods.",

"'Gimme the money,' says Johnston.,

"My intention is," Captain Acton went on, "to fit out the Aurora at once for a chase. We know where the Minorca is bound to. Mr Lawrence's course must necessarily be yours. Your vessel can sail two feet to his one. If we are unfortunate enough to miss him on the high seas, we shall be at Rio a week or a fortnight before the Minorca arrives, to receive him. When can you get your ship ready for sea?",

"To me it is impossible to suppose," said Sir William, "that my son could have written the letter which Mr Adams saw your daughter reading. Captain Weaver told us plainly that my son was aft on the quarterdeck of the Minorca at the time that she was hauling out[Pg 187] from the wharf. It is perfectly clear therefore that no accident could have befallen him. Nor is it imaginable that, even if he had met with a disaster, he would dream of communicating with your daughter. Why your daughter, sir? If they are on bowing terms we may take it that their intimacy scarcely goes farther. Depend upon it, there is some man in connection with this business, in whom your daughter is interested—of course, sir, you will understand me to mean as a sweet and beautiful Christian sympathiser, as one to whom every sort of misfortune appeals, to whom suffering and misery are quick to make themselves known, being sure of heartfelt, womanly pity. The moment I have had a peck, after hearing whether Miss Lucy has arrived at home, I will devote the rest of the day to enquiries about this person who wrote the letter which Mr Adams saw delivered."

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Mrs. Wilson nodded. "It is. Two pieces of bread an' butter an' a doughnut an' a tart fer each of you. Is it enough?",

A little smile curled the corners of Maddoc's stern mouth. "Well, that's Pennsylvania Scroggie," he said, as though to himself. "Hard, bull-headed and a sharper in every legitimate sense but square as they make 'em. And you," he asked, pointedly, "what did you do?",

"Then s'posin' we try an' find out something 'bout 'em fer ourselves, eh?",

Billy laid down his knife and fork and smiled reminiscently. "I was jest thinkin' of ol' Harry O'Dule," he said, answering the question in her eyes. "He's quit a bad habit, too. He's quit drinkin'; don't touch a drop any more—hasn't fer over a month now."