chair, "but I'm
sure he'll be pleased to see you when he comes in."

"And I shall be pleased to see him," said the innocent skipper.

Miss Pilbeam kept her doubts to herself and sat in a brown study,
wondering how the capture was to be effected. She had a strong
presentiment that the appearance of her father at the front door would be
the signal for her visitor's departure at the back. For a time there was
an awkward silence.

"Lucky thing for me I upset that policeman," said the skipper, at last.

"Why?" inquired the girl.

"Else I shouldn't have come into your yard," was the reply. "It's the
first time we have ever put into Woodhatch, and I might have sailed away
and never seen you. Where should we have been but for that fat
policeman?"

Miss Pilbeam--as soon as she could get her breath--said, "Ah, where
indeed!" and for the first time in her life began to feel the need of a
chaperon.

"Funny to think of him hunting for me high and low while I am sitting
here," said the skipper.

Miss Pilbeam agreed with him, and began to laugh--to laugh so heartily
that he was fain at last to draw his chair close to hers and pat her
somewhat anxiously on the back. The treatment sobered her at once, and
she drew apart and eyed him coldly.

"I was afraid you would lose your breath," explained the skipper,
awkwardly. "You are not angry, are you?"

He was so genuinely relieved when she said, "No," that Miss Pilbeam,
despite her father's wrongs, began to soften a little. The upsetter of
policemen was certainly good-looking; and his manner towards her so
nicely balanced between boldness and timidity that a slight feeling of
sadness at his lack of moral character began to assail her.

"Suppose you are caught after all?" she said, presently. "You will go to
prison."

The skipper shrugged his shoulders. "I don't suppose I shall be," he
replied.

"Aren't you sorry?" persisted Miss Pilbeam, in a vibrant voice.

"Certainly not," said the skipper. "Why, I shouldn't have seen you if I
hadn't done it."

Miss Pilbeam looked at the clock and pondered. It wanted but five
minutes to nine. Five minutes in which to make up a mind that was in a
state of strong unrest.

"I suppose it is time for me to go," said the skipper, watching her.
Miss Pilbeam rose. "No, don't go," she said, hastily. "Do be quiet.
I want to think."

Captain Bligh waited in respectful silence, heedless of the fateful
seconds ticking from the mant