of that. As Burns
fell back, colorless, Tom, the cook, brought into the tent the wire key
that Singleton had made.

That morning I took from inside of Singleton's mattress a bunch of
keys, a long steel file, and the leg of one of his chairs, carefully
unscrewed and wrapped at the end with wire a formidable club. One of
the keys opened Singleton's door.

That was on Saturday. Early Monday morning we sighted land.

CHAPTER XVIII

A BAD COMBINATION

We picked up a pilot outside the Lewes breakwater a man of few words. I
told him only the outlines of our story, and I believe he half
discredited me at first. God knows, I was not a creditable object.
When I took him aft and showed him the jolly-boat, he realized, at
last, that he was face to face with a great tragedy, and paid it the
tribute of throwing away his cigar.

He suggested our raising the yellow plague flag; and this we did, with
a ready response from the quarantine officer. The quarantine officer
came out in a power-boat, and mounted the ladder; and from that moment
my command of the Ella ceased. Turner, immaculately dressed, pale,
distinguished, member of the yacht club and partner in the Turner line,
met him at the rail, and conducted him, with a sort of chastened
affability, to the cabin.

Exhausted from lack of sleep, terrified with what had gone by and what
was yet to come, unshaven and unkempt, the men gathered on the
forecastle-head and waited.

The conference below lasted perhaps an hour. At the end of that time
the quarantine officer came up and shouted a direction from below, as a
result of which the jolly-boat was cut loose, and, towed by the tug,
taken to the quarantine station. There was an argument, I believe,
between Turner and the officer, as to allowing us to proceed up the
river without waiting for the police. Turner prevailed, however, and,
from the time we hoisted the yellow flag, we were on our way to the
city, a tug panting beside us, urging the broad and comfortable lines
of the old cargo boat to a semblance of speed.

The quarantine officer, a dapper little man, remained on the boat, and
busied himself officiously, getting the names of the men, peering at
Singleton through his barred window, and expressing disappointment at
my lack of foresight in having the bloodstains cleared away.

"Every stain is a clue, my man, to the trained eye," he chirruped.
"With an axe, too! What a brutal method! Brutal! Where is t