ream.
Opium had been his downfall. How he lived I never knew, but Harley
believed he had some small but settled income, sufficient to enable him
to kill himself in comfort with the black pills.

As he stood there before me in the early morning light, I was aware of
some subtle change in his appearance. It was fully six months since I
had seen him last, but in some vague way he looked younger. Haggard
he was, with an ugly cut showing on his temple, but not so lined as
I remembered him. Some former man seemed to be struggling through the
opium-scarred surface. His eyes were brighter, and I noted with surprise
that he wore decent clothes and was clean shaved.

"Good morning, Jim," he said; "you remember me, don't you?"

As he spoke I observed, too, that his manner had altered. He who had
consorted with the sweepings af the doss-houses now addressed me as
a courteous gentleman addresses an inferior--not haughtily or
patronizingly, but with a note of conscious superiority and self-respect
wholly unfamiliar. Almost it threw me off my guard, but remembering in
the nick of time that I was still "Jim":

"Of course I remember you, Cap'n," I said. "Step inside."

"Thanks," he replied, and followed me into the little room.

I placed for him the arm-chair which our friend the fireman had so
recently occupied, but:

"I won't sit down," he said.

And now I observed that he was evidently in a condition of repressed
excitement. Perhaps he saw the curiosity in my glance, for he suddenly
rested both his hands on my shoulders, and:

"Yes, I have given up the dope, Jim," he said---"done with it for ever.
There's not a soul in this neighbourhood I can trust, yet if ever a man
wanted a pal, I want one to-day. Now, you're square, my lad. I always
knew that, in spite of the dope; and if I ask you to do a little thing
that means a lot to me, I think you will do it. Am I right?"

"If it can be done, I'll do it," said I.

"Then, listen. I'm leaving England in the Patna for Singapore. She sails
at noon to-morrow, and passengers go on board at ten o'clock. I've got
my ticket, papers in order, but"--he paused impressively, grasping my
shoulders hard--"I must get on board to-night."

I stared him in the face.

"Why?" I asked.

He returned my look with one searching and eager; then:

"If I show you the reason," said he, "and trust you with all my papers,
will you go down to the dock--it's no great distance--and ask to see
Marryat, th