hat he would have thought of Mr. Chalk's. Tredgold and Stobell
bought papers on the station, but Mr. Chalk was in too exalted a mood for
reading. The bustle and life as the train became due were admirably
attuned to his feelings, and when it drew up and they embarked, to the
clatter of milk-cans and the rumbling of trolleys, he was beaming with
satisfaction.

"I feel that I can smell the sea already," he remarked.

Mr. Stobell put down his paper and sniffed; then he resumed it again and,
meeting Mr. Tredgold's eye over the top of it, sniffed more loudly than
before.

"Have you told Edward that you are going to sea?" inquired Mr. Chalk,
leaning over to Tredgold.

"Certainly not," was the reply; "I don't want anybody to know till the
last possible moment. You haven't given your wife any hint as to why you
are going to Biddlecombe to-day, have you?"

Mr. Chalk shook his head. "I told her that you had got business there,
and that I was going with you just for the outing," he said. "What
she'll say when she finds out--"

His imagination failed him and, a prey to forebodings, he tried to divert
his mind by looking out of window. His countenance cleared as they
neared Biddlecombe, and, the line running for some distance by the side
of the river, he amused himself by gazing at various small craft left
high and dry by the tide.

A short walk from the station brought them to the mouth of the river
which constitutes the harbour of Biddlecombe. For a small port there was
a goodly array of shipping, and Mr. Chalk's pulse beat faster as his gaze
wandered impartially from a stately barque in all the pride of fresh
paint to dingy, sea-worn ketches and tiny yachts.

Uncertain how to commence operations, they walked thoughtfully up and
down the quay. If any of the craft were for sale there was nothing to
announce the fact, and the various suggestions which Mr. Chalk threw off
from time to time as to the course they should pursue were hardly
noticed.

"One o'clock," said Mr. Stobell, extracting a huge silver timepiece from
his pocket, after a couple of wasted hours.

"Let's have something to eat before we do any more," said Mr. Tredgold.
"After that we'll ferry over and look at the other side."

They made their way to the "King of Hanover," an old inn, perched on the
side of the harbour, and, mounting the stairs, entered the coffee-room,
where Mr. Stobell, after hesitating for some time between the rival
claims of r