descended to
the river; Sir Amyas silent between suspense, dismay and shame for his
mother, and Betty trying to keep Eugene quiet by hurried answers to his
eager questions about all he saw. They had to get out at London Bridge,
and take a fresh boat on the other side, a much larger one, with
two oarsmen, and a grizzled old coxswain, with a pleasant honest
countenance, who presently relieved Betty of all necessity of attending
to, or answering, Eugene's chatter.

"Do you know where this garden is?" said she, leaning across to Sir
Amyas, who had engaged the boat to go to Greenwich.

He started as if it were a new and sudden thought, and turning to the
steersman demanded whether he knew Mrs. Darke's garden.

The old man gave a kind of grunt, and eyed the trio interrogatively,
the young officer with his fresh, innocent, boyish face and brilliant
undisguised uniform, the handsome child, the lady neither young, gay,
nor beautiful, but unmistakeably a decorous gentlewoman.

"Do you know Mrs. Darke's?" repeated Sir Amyas.

"Aye, do I? Mayhap I know more about the place than you do."

There was that about his face that moved Betty and the young man to
look at one another, and the former said, "She has had to do with--evil
doings?"

"You may say that, ma'am."

"Then," they cried in one breath, "you will help us!" And in a very
few words Betty explained their fears for her young sister, and asked
whether he thought the warning possible.

"I've heard tell of such things!" said the old man between his teeth,
"and Mother Darkness is one to do 'em. Help you to bring back the poor
young lass? That we will, if we have to break down the door with our
fists. And who is this young spark? Her brother or her sweetheart?"

"Her husband!" said Sir Amyas. "Her husband from whom she has been
cruelly spirited away. Aid me to bring her back, my good fellow, and
nothing would be too much to reward you."

"Aye, aye, captain, Jem Green's not the man to see an English girl
handed over to they slave-driving, outlandish chaps. But I say, I wish
you'd got a cloak or summat to put over that scarlet and gold of yourn.
It's a regular flag to put the old witch on her guard."

On that summer's day, however, no cloak was at hand. They went down the
river very rapidly, for the tide was running out and at length Jem Green
pointed out the neat little garden. On the step sat a woman, apparently
weeping bitterly. Could it be the object of their searc