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"I don't quite understand," said Captain Acton, gazing with friendly interest at the jolly, round, weather-dyed face of Sir William, whose looks certainly at this moment did not wear the jocund complexion they were used to carry.,

"I know, Jacobs, that you and your henchmen, Tom Standish and Jack Blake, robbed Twin Oaks store and blew the safe; also that you were disappointed. There was no will there. Where you made your big mistake, my friend, was in misjudging Pennsylvania Scroggie. For instance, when you lied to him and told him that you had found the will, and threatened to turn it over to the rightful heir, providing he did not give you a clear deed to Lost Man's Swamp—what did he say to you?",

"'That's just where I don't want it left,' he says. 'I want it kept safe. I'll take a chance on dying suddenly.' And by George! the old fellow got up and shambled out, leaving a twenty-dollar gold piece on the table.",

He was Mr Walter Lawrence, a son of Admiral Lawrence, and down to a recent period a lieutenant in the Royal Navy. He was something over thirty years of age, but drink, dissipation, the hard life of the sea and some fever which had got into his blood and proved intermittent, had worked in his face like time, and he might have passed for any age between thirty-five and forty-five. Nevertheless he was an extremely handsome man, of the classic Greek type in lineament, but improved, at least to the British eye, by the Saxon colouring of hair, skin, and eyes. His teeth were extraordinarily white and good for a sailor who had lived on gun-room fare in times when the ship's biscuit was flint, and the peas which rolled about in the discoloured hot water called soup, fit only for loading a blunderbuss with to shoot men dead. His eyes told their tale of drink, but they were large and fine and spirited; his light brown hair, according to the fashion of[Pg 39] the age, was combed down his back and lay in a rope-shaped tail there. He wore a wide-brimmed round hat, and his attire, a little the worse for wear, consisted of a blue coat, white waistcoat, sage-green kerseymere breeches, and, needless to say, the cravat was high and full. He stood about six feet, his figure was extremely well proportioned, and in addition to these merits his carriage had the easy elegance which the flow of the billow and the heave of the deck infuse into all human figures not radically vile and deformed. His voice was soft, winning, and somewhat plaintive, and no man, whether on or off the stage, not even Incledon, sang a song with more exquisite feeling and sweeter sincerity of passion.

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"Poor old Daddy," Erie laughed, coming around to sit on the arm of his chair. "It does seem too bad you can't have your smoke. I'm sure you miss it dreadfully; but you see you are so much stronger and better I—well, I simply won't let you smoke just yet, that's all.",

Av the gurril ye loved on the Isle 'cross the sea—,

Billy chuckled. "Then you got my message off of Croaker, Maurice?",

Hinter was still seated on the fence when Billy turned the curve in the road. "I wonder what he wants of Lost Man's Swamp," mused the boy. "An' I wonder what he's scared somebody'll find there?"