dessert. Not a tin
had been opened; and save for the oil and vinegar in the salad, and some
green spears of onion which Attwater cultivated and plucked with his own
hand, not even the condiments were European. Sherry, hock, and claret
succeeded each other, and the _Farallone_ champagne brought up the rear
with the dessert.

It was plain that, like so many of the extremely religious in the days
before teetotalism, Attwater had a dash of the epicure. For such
characters it is softening to eat well; doubly so to have designed and
had prepared an excellent meal for others; and the manners of their host
were agreeably mollified in consequence. A cat of huge growth sat on his
shoulder purring, and occasionally, with a deft paw, capturing a morsel
in the air. To a cat he might be likened himself, as he lolled at the
head of his table, dealing out attentions and innuendoes, and using the
velvet and the claw indifferently. And both Huish and the captain fell
progressively under the charm of his hospitable freedom.

Over the third guest the incidents of the dinner may be said to have
passed for long unheeded. Herrick accepted all that was offered him, ate
and drank without tasting, and heard without comprehension. His mind was
singly occupied in contemplating the horror of the circumstances in
which he sat. What Attwater knew, what the captain designed, from which
side treachery was to be first expected, these were the ground of his
thoughts. There were times when he longed to throw down the table and
flee into the night. And even that was debarred him; to do anything, to
say anything, to move at all, were only to precipitate the barbarous
tragedy; and he sat spellbound, eating with white lips. Two of his
companions observed him narrowly, Attwater with raking, sidelong glances
that did not interrupt his talk, the captain with a heavy and anxious
consideration.

"Well, I must say this sherry is a really prime article," said Huish.
"'Ow much does it stand you in, if it's a fair question?"

"A hundred and twelve shillings in London, and the freight to
Valparaiso, and on again," said Attwater. "It strikes one as really not
a bad fluid."

"A 'undred and twelve!" murmured the clerk, relishing the wine and the
figures in a common ecstasy: "O my!"

"So glad you like it," said Attwater. "Help yourself, Mr. Whish, and
keep the bottle by you."

"My friend's name is Huish and not Whish, sir," said the captain, with a
flush.

"I b