citizens who sought to detain the cook, and ask him what he meant by it.

"I expect you've made a mistake," said the skipper, as they rapidly
reached the small street. "Don't run--we shall have a crowd."

"If it wasn't 'im it was his twin brother," said the cook. "Ah, there he
is! That's the man!"

He pointed to Henry's acquaintance of the previous day, who, with his
hands in his pockets, was walking listlessly along on the other side of
the road.

"You get back," said the skipper hurriedly. "You'd better run a little,
then these staring idiots 'll follow you."

The cook complied, and the curious, seeing that he appeared to be the
more irrational of the two, and far more likely to get into mischief,
set off in pursuit. The skipper crossed the road, and began gently to
overtake his quarry.

He passed him, and looking back, regarded him unobserved. The likeness
was unmistakable, and for a few seconds he kept on his way in doubt how
to proceed. Then he stopped, and turning round, waited till the old man
should come up to him.

"Good-morning," he said pleasantly.

"Morning," said the old man, half stopping.

"I'm in a bit of a difficulty," said the skipper laughing. "I've got a
message to deliver to a man in this place and I can't find him. I wonder
whether you could help me."

"What's his name?" asked the other.

"Captain Gething," said the skipper.

The old man started, and his face changed to an unwholesome white. "I
never heard of him," he muttered, thickly, trying to pass on.

"Nobody else seems to have heard of him either," said the skipper,
turning with him; "that's the difficulty."

He waited for a reply, but none came. The old man, with set face, walked
on rapidly.

"He's supposed to be in hiding," continued the skipper. "If you should
ever run across him you might tell him that his wife and daughter Annis
have been wanting news of him for five years, and that he's making all
this trouble and fuss about a man who is as well and hearty as I am.
Good-morning."

The old man stopped abruptly, and taking his outstretched hand, drew a
deep breath.

"Tell him--the--man--is _alive?_" he said in a trembling voice.

"Just that," said the skipper gently, and seeing the working of the
other's face, looked away. For a little while they both stood silent,
then the skipper spoke again.

"If I take you back," he said, "I am to marry your daughter Annis." He
put his hand on the old man's, and without a word