o had been posted outside the harbour as a lookout, came
hurrying in to report that he had seen a naval launch steaming in that
direction.

The emergency for which Cabot had been planning ever since he consented
to become the responsible head of the concern was close at hand, and he
at once began to take measures to meet it.

"Draw your fires," he shouted. "Empty the kettles and cool them off.
Pass all cans, empty or full, up into the loft, and then every one of
you clear out. Remember that you are not to know a thing about the
factory, if anybody asks questions, and you don't even want to give any
one a chance to ask questions if you can help it. Run up to the
house," he added, turning to the boy who had brought tidings of the
enemy's approach, "and tell Mrs. Baldwin, with my compliments, that the
carriage is ready for her drive."

So thoroughly had everything been explained and understood beforehand,
and so promptly were these orders obeyed, that, half an hour later,
when a jaunty man-of-war's launch, flying a British Jack, entered the
little harbour, every preparation had been made for her reception. The
factory, closed and silent, presented no outward sign that it had been
in operation for months. Those who had recently worked so
industriously within its weather-stained walls now lounged about their
own house doors, or on the village street, as though they had nothing
to do, and limitless leisure in which to do it. White Baldwin, with
his mother and sister, had driven away in a cart, leaving their
tenantless house with closed doors and tightly shuttered windows.
Cabot Grant, with hands thrust into his trousers pockets, leaned
against a wharf post and surveyed the oncoming launch with languid
curiosity. The Yankee schooner swung gracefully at her moorings, and
from her a boat was pulling towards shore; while on the deck of the
"Sea Bee," also anchored in the stream, David Gidge placidly smoked a
pipe.

The launch slowed down as it neared him, and an officer inquired in the
crisp tones of authority:

"What place is this?"

Deliberately taking the pipe from his mouth, and looking about him as
though to refresh his memory, Mr. Gidge answered:

"I've heard it called by a number of names."

"Was one of them Pretty Harbour?"

"Now that you mention it, I believe it were."

"What kind of a building is that?" continued the officer, sharply,
pointing to the factory as he spoke.

David gazed at the buildin