to divulge a word of the cruise to anybody. When it does leak out it
must be understood we are just going for a little pleasure jaunt. Mind,
you've sworn to keep the whole affair secret."

Mr. Chalk screwed up his features in anxious perplexity, but made no
comment.

"The weather's fine," continued Tredgold, "and there's nothing gained by
delay. On Wednesday we'll take the train to Biddlecombe and have a look
round. My idea is to buy a small, stout sailing-craft second-hand; ship
a crew ostensibly for a pleasure trip, and sail as soon as possible."

Mr. Chalk's face brightened. "And we'll take some beads, and guns, and
looking-glasses, and trade with the natives in the different islands we
pass," he said, cheerfully. "We may as well see something of the world
while we're about it."

Mr. Tredgold smiled indulgently and said they would see. Messrs.
Stobell and Chalk, after a final glance at the map and a final perusal of
the instructions at the back, took their departure.

"It's like a dream," said the latter gentleman, as they walked down the
High Street.

"That Vickers girl ud like more dreams o' the same sort," said Mr.
Stobell, as he thrust his hand in his empty pocket.

"It's all very well for you," continued Mr. Chalk, uneasily. "But my
wife is sure to insist upon coming."

Mr. Stobell sniffed. "I've got a wife too," he remarked.

"Yes," said Mr. Chalk, in a burst of unwonted frankness, "but it ain't
quite the same thing. I've got a wife and Mrs. Stobell has got a
husband--that's the difference."

Mr. Stobell pondered this remark for the rest of the way home. He came
to the conclusion that the events of the evening had made Mr. Chalk a
little light-headed.

CHAPTER VIII

Until he stood on the platform on Wednesday morning with his brother
adventurers Mr. Chalk passed the time in a state of nervous excitement,
which only tended to confirm his wife in her suspicions of his behaviour.
Without any preliminaries he would burst out suddenly into snatches of
sea-songs, the "Bay of Biscay" being an especial favourite, until Mrs.
Chalk thought fit to observe that, "if the thunder did roar like that she
should not be afraid of it." Ever sensitive to a fault, Mr. Chalk fell
back upon "Tom Bowling," which he thought free from openings of that
sort, until Mrs. Chalk, after commenting upon the inability of the late
Mr. Bowling to hear the tempest's howling, indulged in idle speculations
as to w