his shoulders, he opened the unlocked
door and went into the hall, intending to walk back and forth a
little, believing that the easy exercise would induce desire for
sleep.

He was surprised to find a thread of light in the dusk of the hall, at
a time when he was quite sure everybody in the house except himself
was buried in slumber, and when he traced it he found it came from
another room farther down. It was, upon the instant, his belief that
robbers had entered. In a port like New York, where all nations come,
there must be reckless and desperate men who would hesitate at no risk
or crime.

He moved cautiously along the hall, until he reached the door from
which the light shone. It was open about six inches, not allowing a
look into the room except at the imminent risk of discovery, but by
placing his ear at the sill he would be able to hear the footsteps of
men if they were moving within. The sound of voices instead came to
him, and as he listened he was able to note that it was two men
talking in low tones. Undoubtedly they were robbers, who were common
in all great towns in those days, and this must be a chamber in which
Master Hardy kept many valuables. Doubtless they were assured that
everybody was deep in slumber, or they would be more cautious.

Driven by an intense curiosity, Robert edged his head a little farther
forward, and was able to look into the room, where, to his intense
amazement, he saw no robbers at all, but Willet and Master Hardy
seated at a small table opposite each other, with a candle, account
books and papers between. Hardy had been reading a paper, and stopping
at intervals to talk about it with the hunter.

"As you see, David," he said, "the list of the ships is three larger
than it was five years ago. One was lost to the Barbary corsairs,
another was wrecked on the coast of the Brazils, but we have five new
ones."

"You have done well, Benjamin, but I knew you would," said the hunter.

"With the help of Jonathan. Don't forget him, David. In name he is my
head clerk, and he pretends to serve me, but at times I think he is my
master. A shrewd Massachusetts man, David, uncommonly shrewd, and
loyal too."

"And the lands, Benjamin?"

"They're in abeyance, and are likely to be for some years, their title
depending upon the course of events which are now in train."

"And they're uncertain, Benjamin, as uncertain as the winds. But give
me your honest opinion of the lad, Benjamin. Ha