ed about him with interest for a likely victim, but in
vain.

"What are you looking at?" he demanded, impatiently, as Blundell suddenly
came to a stop and gazed curiously into the harbour.

"Jelly-fish," said the other, briefly. "I never saw such a monster. It
must be a yard across."

Mr. Turnbull stopped, but could see nothing, and even when Blundell
pointed it out with his finger he had no better success. He stepped
forward a pace, and his suspicions returned with renewed vigour as a hand
was laid caressingly on his shoulder. The next moment, with a wild
shriek, he shot suddenly over the edge and disappeared. Venia and the
sergeant, turning hastily, were just in time to see the fountain which
ensued on his immersion.

[Illustration: "With a wild shriek, he shot suddenly over the edge and
disappeared."]

"Oh, save him!" cried Venia.

The sergeant ran to the edge and gazed in helpless dismay as Mr. Turnbull
came to the surface and disappeared again. At the same moment Blundell,
who had thrown off his coat, dived into the harbour and, rising rapidly
to the surface, caught the fast-choking Mr. Turnbull by the collar.

"Keep still," he cried, sharply, as the farmer tried to clutch him; "keep
still or I'll let you go."

"Help!" choked the farmer, gazing up at the little knot of people which
had collected on the quay.

A stout fisherman who had not run for thirty years came along the edge of
the quay at a shambling trot, with a coil of rope over his arm. John
Blundell saw him and, mindful of the farmer's warning about kissing of
fingers, etc., raised his disengaged arm and took that frenzied gentleman
below the surface again. By the time they came up he was very glad for
his own sake to catch the line skilfully thrown by the old fisherman and
be drawn gently to the side.

"I'll tow you to the steps," said the fisherman; "don't let go o' the
line."

Mr. Turnbull saw to that; he wound the rope round his wrist and began to
regain his presence of mind as they were drawn steadily toward the steps.
Willing hands drew them out of the water and helped them up on to the
quay, where Mr. Turnbull, sitting in his own puddle, coughed up salt
water and glared ferociously at the inanimate form of Mr. Blundell.
Sergeant Daly and another man were rendering what they piously believed
to be first aid to the apparently drowned, while the stout fisherman,
with both hands to his mouth, was yelling in heart-rending accents