at occurred to her. A brave secret-service
officer who had aided her--that's what Mr. Heatherbloom was to the
governor and his better half. Hence the distinct formality of Sir
Charles' note to Mr. Heatherbloom, indited at Miss Dalrymple's special
request and somewhat against the good baronet's own secret judgment. A
police agent may be valiant as a lion, but he is not a gentleman.

Something of this axiomatic truth the excellent hosts strove to instill
by means, more or less subtle, in the mind of their young guest; but she
clung with odd tenacity to her own ingenuous point of view. Whereupon
Sir Charles figuratively shrugged. Reprehensible democracy of the new
world! She, with the perversity of American womankind, actually spoke
of, and, no doubt, desired to treat the fellow as an equal.

She found him one morning, a day or two later. She came down to the
wharf, alone, and on foot. He held a note-book and pencil, but that he
had not been above lending physical assistance, on occasion, to the
natives bearing bags and other merchandise, was evident from his hands
which were grimy as a stevedore's. His shirt was open at the throat, and
his face, too, bore marks of toil. Betty Dalrymple stepped impetuously
toward him; she looked as fresh as a flower, and held out a hand gloved
in immaculate white.

"Dare I?" he laughed.

"If you don't!" Her eyes dared him not to take it.

He looked at the hand, such a delicate thing, and seemed still in the
least uncertain; then his fingers closed on it.

"You see I managed to find you," she said. "Who is that man who stares
so?"

"That," answered Mr. Heatherbloom smiling, "is my boss."

"Well," she observed, "I don't like his face."

"Some of the darkies he's knocked down share, I believe, your opinion,"
he laughed. "Excuse me a moment." And Mr. Heatherbloom stepped to the
dumfounded person in question, handed him the note-book and pencil,
with a request to keep tab for a moment, and then returned to the girl.
"Now, I'm at your command," he said with a smile.

"Suppose we take a walk?" she suggested. "We can talk better if we do."

A moment Mr. Heatherbloom wavered. "Sorry," he then said, "but I've
promised to stick by the job. You see the old tub sails to-morrow for
South America and it'll be a task to get her loaded before night. Some
of the hands, as well as the supercargo, have been bowled over by
fire-water."

"I see." There was a strained look about her lips. Before th