upon me; and he said--

"Is it for the likes of me to be advisin' yer honor? 'Sure,' says he,
'if the gentleman has the moind to wroite he'll wroite, if he has the
moind to come aboard me--meanin' his yacht--he'll come aboard; and
we'll be swimming in liquor together as gents should. And if so be as
the gentleman' (which is yer honor), says he, 'will condescend to wipe
his fate on me cabin shates, let him be aboard at Dieppe afore seven
bells,' says he, 'and we'll shame the ould divil with a keg, and heave
at daybreak'--which is yer honor's pleasure, or otherwise, as it's me
juty to larn!"

It needed no very clever penetration on my part to read danger in every
line of this invitation--not only danger to myself, who had been
dragged by the heels into the business, but danger to Hall, whose
disguise could scarce be preserved when mine was unmasked. And yet he
had left Paris, and even then, perhaps, was in the power of the man
Black and his crew! What I could do to help him, I could not think; but
I determined if possible to glean something from the palpably cunning
rogue who had come on the errand.

"I'll give you the answer to this in a minute," said I; "meanwhile,
have a little whisky? A seaman like yourself doesn't thrive on cold
water, does he?"

"Which is philosophy, yer honor--for could wather never warmed any man
yet--me respects to the young lady"--here he looked deep into his
glass, adding slowly, and as if there was credit to him in the
recollection, "Oi was priest's boy in Tipperary, bedad"--and he drank
the half of a stiff glass at a draught.

"Do you find this good weather in the Channel?" I inquired suddenly,
looking hard at him over the table.

He made circles with his glass, and turned his eyes upon Mary, before
he answered; and when he did, his voice died away like the fall of a
gale which is tired. "Noice weather, did ye say--by the houly saints,
it depends."

"On what?" I asked, driving the question home.

"On yer company," said he, returning my gaze, "and yer sowl."

"That's curious!"

"Yes, if ye have one to lose, and put anny price on it."

His meaning was too clear.

"Tell your master, with my compliments," I responded, "that I will come
another time--I have business in Paris to-day!"

He still looked at me earnestly, and when he spoke again his voice had
a fatherly ring. "If I make bold, it's yer honor's forgiveness I
ask--but, if it was me that was in Paris I'd stay there," and p