ps an hour out of
town."

"What would you do in my place? It may be a joke, and then again it
may not. She knew that I was a rank impostor."

"But she knew that a man must have a certain kind of daredevil courage
to play the game you played. Well, you ask me what I should do in your
place. I'd go."

"I shall. It will double discount fishing. And the more I think of
it, the more certain I become that she and I have met somewhere.
By-by!"

Cathewe lingered in the reading-room, pondering. Here was a twist to
the wager he was rather unprepared for; and if the truth must be told,
he was far more perplexed than Fitzgerald. He knew the girl, but he
did not know and could not imagine what purpose she had in aiding
Fitzgerald to win his wager or luring him out to an obscure village in
this detective-story manner.

"Well, I shall hear all about it from her father," he concluded.

And all in good time he did.

CHAPTER IV

PIRATES AND PRIVATE SECRETARIES

It was a little station made gloomy by a single light. Once in so
often a fast train stopped, if properly flagged. Fitzgerald, feeling
wholly unromantic, now that he had arrived, dropped his hand-bag on the
damp platform and took his bearings. It was after sundown. The sea,
but a few yards away, was a murmuring, heaving blackness, save where
here and there a wave broke. The wind was chill, and there was the
hint of a storm coming down from the northeast.

"Any hotel in this place?" he asked of the ticket agent, the telegraph
operator, and the baggageman, who was pushing a crate of vegetables off
a truck.

"Swan's Hotel; only one."

"Do people sleep and eat there?"

"If they have good digestions."

"Much obliged."

"Whisky's no good, either."

"Thanks again. This doesn't look much like a summer resort."

"Nobody ever said it was. I beg your pardon, but would you mind taking
an end of this darned crate?"

"Not at all." Fitzgerald was beginning to enjoy himself. "Where do
you want it?"

"In here," indicating the baggage-room. "Thanks. Now, if there's
anything I can do to help you in return, let her go."

"Is there a house hereabouts called the top o' the hill?"

"Come over here," said the agent. "See that hill back there, quarter
of a mile above the village; those three lights? Well, that's it.
They usually have a carriage down here when they're expecting any one."

"Who owns it?"

"Old Admiral Killigrew. Didn't you know