t
spilled should tell tales. And so he went on and amused himself by
shifting the contents of the whole eighteen cases marked _Proserpine,_
etc., into eighteen cases marked _Shannon,_ etc., and refilling them with
the _Shannon's_ lead. Frolicsome Mr. Wylie! Then he sat down on one of
the cases _Proserpine'd,_ and ate a biscuit and drank a little rum; not
much; for at this part of his career he was a very sober man, though he
could feign drunkenness, or indeed anything else.

The gold was all at his mercy, yet he did not pocket an ounce of it; not
even a penny-weight to make a wedding-ring for Nancy Rouse. Mr. Wylie had
a conscience. And a very original one it was; and, above all, he was very
true to those he worked with. He carefully locked the gold cases up again
and resumed the screwdriver, for there was another heavy stroke of work
to be done; and he went at it like a man. He carefully screwed down
again, one after another, all those eighteen cases marked. _Shannon,_
which he had filled with gold dust, and then, heating a sailor's needle
red-hot over his burning wick, he put his own secret marks on those
eighteen cases--marks that no eye but his own could detect. By this time,
though a very powerful man, he felt much exhausted and would gladly have
snatched an hour's repose. But, consulting his watch by the light of his
lantern, he found the sun had just risen. He retired to his place of
concealment in the same cat-like way he had come out of it--that is to
say, he mounted on the high cases, and then slipped down behind them,
into the angle of the wall.

As soon as the office opened, two sailors, whom he had carefully
instructed overnight, came with a boat for the cases; the warehouse was
opened in consequence, but they were informed that Wylie must be present
at the delivery.

"Oh, he won't be long," said they; "told us he would meet us here."

There was a considerable delay, and a good deal of talking, and presently
Wylie was at their back, and put in his word.

Seaton was greatly surprised at finding him there, and asked him where he
had sprung from.

"Me!" said Wylie, jocosely, "why, I hailed from Davy Jones's locker
last."

"I never heard you come in," said Seaton, thoughtfully.

"Well, sir," replied Wylie, civilly, "a man does learn to go like a cat
on board ship, that is the truth. I came in at the door like my betters;
but I thought I heard you mention my name, so I made no noise. Well, here
I am, a