still
clear in the grey dawn. Next his gaze turned to the triumphal arch
in the road below, which wore a peculiarly dissipated look at this
hour. Then it strayed back to the garden below him and beyond the
party hedge; and was suddenly arrested.

On a rustic seat, in the far corner, sat Captain Barker, trying to
read in a book.

The little man, too, had obviously passed the night out of his bed.
His clothes were dishevelled and his attitude was one of extreme
dejection. He kept his head bowed over the book and was wholly
unaware of the eyes that watched him from the opposite pavilion.

But his friend above on the balcony displayed the most nervous
apprehension of being seen. He took his hand from the rail, as if
fearful of making the slightest sound, and stole back through the
window into the lumber-room. Once within the house, however, he
behaved with the briskest determination. Descending first of all to
his own room, he washed his face and towelled it till it glowed.
Then, changing his coat and wig, he took up hat and cane, descended
to the front-door, and crossing the grass-plot, let himself into
Captain Barker's garden.

Captain Barker still sat and read in his book; and as he read the
tears coursed down his wrinkled cheeks. For it was the first of the
famous green volumes.

He looked up as his friend advanced; and Captain Jemmy was forced to
regard the weathercock on the roof for a minute or so to make sure of
the quarter in which the wind lay.

"It's due west," said Captain John, as he stared up; "and it's
ebb-tide till nine o'clock. They'll sail early."

"H'm; I shouldn't wonder. You're early out of bed."

"Well, for the matter of that, so are you--eh?"

"I haven't been to bed."

"Nor have I."

"I've been thinking," said Captain Runacles.

"And I've been trying not to think."

"Well, but I've come to a conclusion. Go and get your hat, Jack."

"Why?"

"We've got to fetch Tristram back."

"How?"

"By tossing our consciences over the hedge and going to see King
William."

The little man shook his head.

"No, Jemmy. You mean it kindly, and God bless you! But I can't do
it."

"Why not? If _I_ can do it--"

"You'd repent it, Jemmy. You're letting your love for me carry you
too far."

"What put it into your head that I'd do this for love of _you_?"

"For Tristram, then."

"Damn Tristram! That youngster strikes me as causing a fuss quite
out of proportion to his intrinsi