fted his head nervously to blink at me. It was Captain
Coffin.

While I stared at him Captain Branscome took the letter from me.
It contained some pieces of silver, as I knew from its weight
and the feel of it--five shillings, as I judged, or perhaps
seven-and-sixpence. As his hand weighed it I saw a sudden relief on
his face, and realized how grey and pinched it had been when he
opened the door to me.

He peised the envelope in his hand for a moment, then broke the seal
very deliberately, took out the coins, and, as if weighing them in
his palm, turned back to the table and laid Mrs. Stimcoe's letter
close under the lamp while he searched for his gold-rimmed
spectacles. (There was a tradition at Stimcoe's, by the way, that
the London merchants, finding a small surplus of subscriptions in
hand after purchasing the sword of honour, had presented him with
these spectacles as a make-weight, and that he valued them no less.)

"Brooks," said he, laying down the letter and pushing the spectacles
high on his forehead while he gazed at me, "I want to ask you a
question in confidence. Had Mrs. Stimcoe any difficulty in finding
this money?"

"Well, sir," said I, "I oughtn't perhaps to know it, but she pawned
Stim--Mr. Stimcoe's Cicero this morning, the six volumes with a
shield on the covers, that he got as a prize at Oxford."

"Good Lord!" said Captain Branscome, slowly. As if in absence of
mind, he stepped to a side-cupboard and looked within. It was bare
but for a plate and an apple. He took up the apple, and was about to
offer it to me, but set it back slowly on the plate, and locked the
cupboard again. "Good Lord!" he repeated quietly, and, linking his
hands under his coat-tails, strode twice backwards and forwards
across the room.

Captain Coffin looked up from his charts and stared at him, and I,
too, stared, waiting in the semi-darkness beyond the lamp's circle.

"Good Lord!" said Captain Branscome for the third time. "And it's
Saturday, too! You'll excuse me a moment."

With that he caught up the letter, and made a dart up the wooden
staircase, which led straight from a corner of the room through a
square hole in the ceiling to his upper chamber.

"Money again!" said Captain Coffin, turning his eyes upon me and
blinking. "Nothing like money!"

He picked up a pair of compasses, spread them out on the paper of
figures before him, and looked up again with a sly, silly smile.

"You won't guess what