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"No, sir. If we took a fortnight to fit the clipper for sea, we should overhaul the Minorca or be ahead of her long before she heaves her port into sight." "Glad to see you safely back, Captain Weaver," cried Miss Acton. "Do you think Miss Acton mad?" said Mr Lawrence, speaking with an effort, but determined to have an independent opinion and willing to believe that the wretch who stood humped, pallid, and terrified before him might be able to distinguish clearly what[Pg 305] was obscured by his own prejudices, wishes, and dread..

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"Ol' Rabbit-foot charm," he said, aloud. "I jest might need you bad today." Then he turned and walked quickly across the fallow toward the causeway. "The French Flotilla!" exclaimed Miss Acton. "In sight, do you say?" With that, and looking round about her with insane cunning glittering in her eyes as diamonds tremble in the dancer's ear, as though she feared she might be watched by another in that berth, albeit her manner persuaded Mr Lawrence that she did not know he was looking on, she went to the locker, lifted the lid and disclosed her treasure-hidings of rings, soap, and the rest of it, looking up meanwhile as though into the face of a person who was bending a little to catch a sight of that nest of feathers, but looking up with such marvellous vitality in the composition of her lineaments, and in the penetrating glare of those eyes of hers which in hours of repose and content seemed to brood upon what they viewed, that Mr Lawrence could almost swear that he beheld the spectral shadow of the Royal apparition into whose face she gazed, stooping and peering into the nest at the end of the locker. "Go an' tell Croaker an' Ringdo the whole business, an' let that crow an' swamp-coon 'tend to you.".