s I was to go in search of Esau, I was obliged to obey, and I
was directly after left to myself to pass quite a couple of hours before
Gunson came back.

"No news yet," he said; "the police are trying what they can do, but if
he is in hiding they are not likely to succeed."

"Then he is not in prison?"

"Oh, no; as far as I can hear, nothing has been seen of him."

"I thought he might have got in some trouble, and been arrested. Then
those men must be at the bottom of it, Mr Gunson."

"Yes, I thought so, but what could I do? I told one of the chiefs of
the police that I was afraid he had been attacked, and the man looked
serious, and said `Very likely.' Then he asked me to describe the men,
and I did."

"Well?" I said eagerly.

"He told me that my description was like that of hundreds of scoundrels
about the place."

"Let's go and see if we can meet them anywhere about," I said. "They
were watching our hotel yesterday where we stayed."

"Yes, I know," said Gunson, thoughtfully. "It hardly seems likely. I
don't know, though, there are always men hanging about ports ready to do
anything for the sake of a few shillings, all the world over."

I felt a shiver run through me at his words, as my busy brain began to
suggest endless horrors that might have befallen poor Esau; and as I
followed Gunson out into the road, these thoughts grew and grew till I
found myself telling poor little Mrs Dean about the loss of her son,
and hearing her reproaches as she told me that it was all my fault, and
that if it had not been for me Esau would have stayed at home.

We went along the road, and down to the wharves, and to and fro about
the hotel where we had been staying, and there was no sign of either of
the men who had assailed us. There were, as the police had said, plenty
of a similar class, many of whom resembled them somewhat in appearance;
but our search was entirely in vain, while towards evening, as we came
out once more where we had a full view of the beautiful bay, I saw
something which made me start, and, full of misery and self-reproach, I
stopped and looked up at Gunson.

"Yes," he said, frowning heavily, "I see. There she goes, and with a
good wind too. Nice clean-sailing little vessel. We ought to have been
on board."

For there, a mile now from the shore, with her sails set, and looking
half-transparent in the light of the setting sun, was the
graceful-looking schooner, which I felt must be ours,