olice and be quit of the whole business. But always
there was this enveloping cloak of ignorance baffling him at every turn.
He did not know what was wrong, and any step he attempted might just
precipitate the calamity he most desired to avoid.

Suppose he went and asked her? This idea had occurred to him many times
before, and he had always rejected it as impracticable. But suppose he
did? The danger was that she might be alarmed or displeased, that she
might refuse to admit there was anything wrong and forbid him to refer
to the matter again or even send him away altogether. And he felt he was
not strong enough to risk that. No, he must know where he stood first.
He must understand his position, so as not to bungle the thing. Hilliard
was right. They must find out what the syndicate was doing. There was no
other way.

So the hours dragged slowly away, but at last after interminable ages
had gone by, Merriman noticed two faint spots of light showing at his
eyeholes. Seating himself on his footstool, he bent forward and put his
eye first to one and then to the other.

It was still the cold, dead light of early dawn before the sun had come
to awaken color and sharpen detail, but the main outlines of objects
were already clear. As Merriman peered out he saw with relief that no
mistake had been made as to his outlooks. From one hole or the other he
could see the entire area of the wharf.

It was about five a.m., and he congratulated himself that what he hoped
was the most irksome part of his vigil was over. Soon the place would
awaken to life, and the time would then pass more quickly in observation
of what took place.

But the three hours that elapsed before anything happened seemed even
longer than those before dawn. Then, just as his watch showed eight
o'clock, he heard a key grind in a lock, a door opened, and a man
stepped out of the shed on the wharf.

He was a young fellow, slight in build, with an extremely alert and
intelligent face, but a rather unpleasant expression. The sallowness
of his complexion was emphasized by his almost jet black hair and dark
eyes. He was dressed in a loose gray Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers,
but wore no hat. He moved forward three or four feet and stood staring
downstream towards Hull.

"I see her, Tom," he called out suddenly to someone in the shed behind.
"She's just coming round the point."

There was another step and a second man appeared. He was older and
looked like