on had been telegraphed far and wide. And when it
should be fruitful of results, what would become of his theory?
Nevertheless, he would go on, while he could, to the last.

If he tried to explain they would consider it but a paltry blind to
cover his own criminality. He could expect no help from them; he had to
triumph or fail through his own efforts. To fail, certainly; it was
decreed.

For the moment something in his breast pocket seemed to burn there, a
tiny object, now without the frame. Involuntarily he raised his hand;
then his figure swayed; the street waved up and down. He had eaten
little during the last two or three days. Scornfully in his own mind he
berated that momentary weakness and steadied himself. His eyes, cold and
clear, now returned to the colored man; he groped for and took up the
thread of the talk where he had left it.

"Old hulks and brigs! You don't ever happen to have any really fine
boats come in here, do you? Like Mr. Morgan's big private yacht, for
example?"

"No; we ain't never seen dat craft yere. Dis port's more for lumber
and--"

Mr. Heatherbloom looked down. "I saw an item in the paper"--he strove to
speak unconcernedly--"a Marconigram--that a certain Russian prince's
private yacht--the _Nevski_--had damaged her propeller, or some other
part of her gear, and was being towed into this harbor for emergency
repairs."

"Oh, yes, boss!" said the man. The listener took a firmer grip on the
parapet. "You done mean de big white boat w'at lies on de odder side ob
de island; can't see her from yere. Dey done fix her up mighty quick an'
she gwine ter lebe to-night."

"Leave to-night!" Mr. Heatherbloom's face changed; suppressed eagerness,
expectancy shone from his eyes; he turned away to conceal it from the
other. "Looks like good fishing over there near the island," he observed
after a pause.

"Tain't so much for fishin' as crabbin'," returned the other.

"Crabbing!" repeated Mr. Heatherbloom. "A grand sport! Now if--are you a
crabber?" The darky confessed that crabbing was his main occupation; his
boat swung right over there; for a dollar he would give the other
several hours' diversion.

Mr. Heatherbloom accepted the offer with alacrity. A few moments later,
seated in a dilapidated cockle-shell, he found himself slamming over the
water. The boat didn't ship the tops of many seas but it took in enough
spray over the port bow to drench pretty thoroughly the passenger. In
the stern,