rning, and
when I asked him where he'd been he nearly bit my head off. I'd been
walking the floor all night, and I shall never forget his remarks when he
opened the door to the police, who'd come to say they couldn't find him.
Never."

A ghostly grin flitted across the features of Mr. Wilks, but he passed
the back of his hand across his mouth and became serious again as he
thought of his position. He was almost dancing with anxiety to get away
to Mr. Nathan Smith and ask for an explanation of the proceedings of the
night before.

"I'll go and have a look round for the cap'n," he said, eagerly; "he
can't be far."

"I'll come with you," said Nugent. "I should like to see him too. There
are one or two little things that want explaining. You take aunt home,
Kate, and I'll follow on as soon as there is any news."

As he spoke the door opened a little way and a head appeared, only to be
instantly withdrawn at the sight of so many people. Mr. Wilks stepped
forward hastily, and throwing the door wide open revealed the interesting
features of Mr. Nathan Smith.

"How do you do, Mr. Wilks?" said that gentleman, softly. "I just walked
round to see whether you was in. I've got a message for you. I didn't
know you'd got company."

He stepped into the room and, tapping the steward on the chest with a
confidential finger, backed him into a corner, and having got him there
gave an expressive wink with one eye and gazed into space with the other.

[Illustration: "Tapping the steward on the chest with a confidential
finger, he backed him into a corner."]

"I thought you'd be alone," he said, looking round, "but p'r'aps it's
just as well as it is. They've got to know, so they may as well know now
as later on."

"Know what?" inquired Jack Nugent, abruptly. "What are you making that
face for, Sam?"

Mr. Wilks mumbled something about a decayed tooth, and to give colour to
the statement continued a series of contortions which made his face ache.

"You should take something for that tooth," said the boarding-master,
with great solicitude. "Wot do you say to a glass o' whisky?"

He motioned to the fatal bottle, which still stood on the table; the
steward caught his breath, and then, rising to the occasion, said that he
had already had a couple of glasses, and they had done no good.

"What's your message?" inquired Jack Nugent, impatiently.

"I'm just going to tell you," said Mr. Smith. "I was out early this
morning