straight upon his nose, with an
unasked question on his hesitating lips.

For Septimus Marvin knew that Colville, in the name of the Marquis
de Gemosac, had asked Loo Barebone to go to France and institute
proceedings there to recover a great heritage, which it seemed must be
his. And Barebone had laughed and put off his reply from day to day for
three days.

Few knew of it in Farlingford, though many must have suspected the true
explanation of the prolonged stay of the two strangers at the "Black
Sailor." Captain Clubbe and Septimus Marvin, Dormer Colville and
Monsieur de Gemosac shared this knowledge, and awaited, impatiently
enough, an answer which could assuredly be only in the affirmative.
Clubbe was busy enough throughout the day at the old slip-way, where
"The Last Hope" was under repair--the last ship, it appeared likely,
that the rotten timbers could support or the old, old shipwrights mend.

Loo Barebone was no less regular in his attendance at the river-side,
and worked all day, on deck or in the rigging, at leisurely
sail-making or neat seizing of a worn rope. He was gay, and therefore
incomprehensible to a slow-thinking, grave-faced race.

"What do I want with a heritage?" he asked, carelessly. "I am mate of
'The Last Hope'--and that is all. Give me time. I have not made up my
mind yet, but I think it will be No."

And oddly enough, it was Colville who preached patience to his
companions in suspense.

"Give him time," he said. "There can only be one answer to such a
proposal. But he is young. It is not when we are young that we see the
world as it really is, but live in a land of dreams. Give him time."

The Marquis de Gemosac was impatient, however, and was for telling
Barebone more than had been disclosed to him.

"There is no knowing," he cried, "what that canaille is doing in
France."

"There is no knowing," admitted Colville, with his air of suppressing
a half-developed yawn, "but I think we know, all the same--you and I,
Marquis. And there is no hurry."

After three days Loo Barebone had still given no answer. As he
hoisted the sail and felt for the tiller in the dark, he was, perhaps,
meditating on this momentous reply, or perhaps he had made up his mind
long before, and would hold to the decision even to his own undoing, as
men do who are impulsive and not strong. The water lapped and gurgled
round the bows, for the wind was almost ahead, and it was only by
nursing the heavy boat that h