ilors. Then it bounded
toward the light.

A window of the cabin on the lee side had been left open. Clinging to
a piece of rigging before it sprang to the sill, the monkey's eyes
caught what seemed to be a shadow darker than that of the mist or of
the night, moving away from the sailor left at night watch. The man
now lay slumped in sleep, and the same heady scent of spices and
flowers that had overcome Chris when he had first entered Mr. Wicker's
shop blew away on the gusty fall wind.

The ship tugged and strained at her anchor, wind and turning tide
making taut the line that held her close to shore. The _Venture_, her
rigging and masts scarcely visible, so sombre was the night, lay
ominously silent, excepting for a murmur of voices from the cabin.
Abruptly aware of the passing of time and the approaching white cloud
on the water that was the _Mirabelle_, the monkey sprang to the side
of the open window and peered inside.

[Illustration]

A smoking lamp hung low over a center table, dropping a dusky round
glow on the larger circle beneath it. Claggett Chew was blearily
studying a paper spread out before him, leaning his ugly bare skull on
one hand. His eyes were blood-shot, and an empty wine bottle and glass
holding only wine dregs showed he had been drinking and was now half
asleep.

Osterbridge Hawsey, in a heavy silk robe and embroidered slippers,
lounged sideways in a chair with his legs hanging over the arm. His
hand trailed an empty glass on the floor, and a silly drunken smile
played over his face.

"Claggett," he was saying, "is the place marked?" He hiccuped
delicately. "Hup! Oh dear! the hiccups!" he complained with a frown.
"Let me have more wine!"

Claggett Chew did not reply nor rise to fetch another bottle.
Osterbridge Hawsey gave a hiccup and spoke again, "Mark
it--hic!--Claggett. You may forget. All those--hup!--walls, to get
over, or--hic! under." He sighed. "Oh dear! Hic! _Think_ of those
jewels, Claggett! Hup! Devil take these hiccups!" he exclaimed in a
flurry of annoyance, but made no motion to change his comfortable
position.

"Claggett!" Osterbridge Hawsey shrilled. "Are you asleep, or angry,
or--? Hic!--Put a cross where the Tree is, I say! I want
those--hup!--jewels, Claggett, and so do you! Hic!"

Befuddled, his perceptions hopelessly blurred by excessive wine,
Claggett Chew made a mark on the map. "There!" he growled, his upper
lip drawn back over his teeth, "will that shut you