fternoon light was falling dim, and I stood up to walk around
the edge of the table for a better look. As I pushed back my chair
he clutched his treasure away, and hid it away again in the breast of
his jumper, at the same moment falling back and passing a hand over
his damp forehead.

"No, no, Brooks! You mustn't think--Only you took me sudden.
But my promise I've passed, and my promise I'll stand by.
Come to-morrow, lad."

Outside in the back yard I could hear Mr. Goodfellow, the slave of
love, sawing for dear life and Martha.

CHAPTER VII.

ENTER THE RETURNED PRISONER.

Strange to say, although I paid six or eight visits after this to
Captain Coffin, and by invitation, and watched his whaleboat
building, and ate more of his delectable guava-jelly, I saw nothing
more of the chart for several months.

On each occasion he treated me kindly, and made no secret of his
having chosen me for his favourite and particular friend; but
somehow, without any words, he contrived to set up an understanding
that further talk about the chart and the treasure must wait until
the boat should be ready for launching. In truth, I believe, a kind
of superstitious terror restricted him. He trusted me, yet was
afraid of overt signs of trust. You may put it that during this
while he was testing, watching me. I can only answer that I had no
suspicion of being watched, and that in discussing the boat's
fittings with me--her tanks, wells, and general storage capacity--he
took it for granted that I followed and understood her purpose.
If indeed he was testing me, in my innocence I took the best way to
reassure him; for I honestly looked upon the whole business as
moonshine, and made no doubt that he was cracked as a fiddle.

Christmas came, and the holidays with it. As Miss Plinlimmon sang--

"Welcome, Christmas! Welcome, Yule!
It brings the schoolboy home from school.
[N.B.--Vulgarly pronounced 'schule' in the West of England.]
Puddings and mistletoe and holly,
With other contrivances for banishing melancholy:
Boar's head, for instance--of which I have never partaken,
But the name has associations denied to ordinary bacon."

Dear soul, she had been waiting at the door--so Sally, the cook,
informed me--for about an hour, listening for the coach, and greeted
me with a tremulous joy between laughter and tears. Before leading
me to my father, however, she warned me that I should