business."

Mr. Mortimer emitted a tragic laugh.

"I will, madam--I will: if it please you witness to what base uses we
may return, Horatio. Allow me first remove mishunderstanding.
Preshumed you to be searching for something--hairpin for exshample.
Common occurrence with my Arabella. No offensh--merely proffered my
shervices . . . The deuce! What's _that?_"

The woman seemed inclined to run, but stood hesitating.

"You heard it? There! close under the wall--"

Mr. Mortimer stepped forward and peered into the shadow. He was
standing close above the manhole, and to the confusion of all his senses
he saw the cover of the manhole lift itself up; saw the rim of it rise
two, three inches, saw and heard it joggle back into its socket.

"For God's sake go away!" breathed the woman.

"Norrabit of it, ma'am. Something wrong here. Citizen's duty, anything
wrong--"

Here the cover lifted itself again. Mr. Mortimer deftly slipped three
fingers under its rim, and reaching back with his other hand produced
from his pocket the second of Sam's two matches.

"Below there!" he hailed sepulchrally, at the same moment striking the
match on the tense seat of his trousers and holding it to the aperture.
"Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness . . . Eh? . . . Good Lord!"--
he drew back and dropped the match--"it's a clergyman!"

He clapped down the cover in haste, sprang to his feet, and lifting his
hat, made her the discreetest of bows. He was sober, now, as a judge.

"A thousand pardons, madam! I have seen nothing--believe me, nothing."

He strode in haste to Old Jubilee's headstall and began to back him
towards the boat. The woman gazed at him for a moment in mere
astonishment, then stepped quickly to his side.

"I didn' know," she stammered. "You don't look nor talk like a bargee."

Here her voice came to a halt, but in the dusk her eyes appeared to
question him.

"Few of us are what we seem, ma'am," Mr. Mortimer sighed. "Bargee for
the nonce I am, yet gentleman enough to understand a delicate situation.
Your secret is safe with me, and so you may tell your--your friend."

"Then you must a-seen them?" she demanded.

"Them?" echoed Mr. Mortimer.

"No," she went on hurriedly, mistaking his hesitation. "They made you
promise, an' I don't _want_ to know. If I knew, he'd force it out o'
me, an' then he 'd cut my heart out."

She glanced over her shoulder, and Mr. Mortimer, interpreting the
glance, nod