Two or three times a week a fussy little steamer passes to and fro between Jersey and France. The two French ports at which it touches are St. Malo and St. Brieuc. One journey it takes to St. Malo, the next to St. Brieuc. On this occasion it was about to voyage to St. Brieuc. St. Brieuc, as some people may not know, is the chief town of the department of Cotes-du-Nord, in Brittany--about as unpretending a chief town as one could find. That Captain Loftus had some preconceived end in view, and had not started on a wild-goose chase, not, as might have at first appeared, going hither and thither as his fancy swayed him, seemed plain. A more roundabout route to France he could scarcely have chosen. Had he simply desired to reach the Continent, fast steamers which passed from Southampton to Havre in little less than half the time which the journey had already occupied, were at his disposal. Very many people, some of them constant travellers, are ignorant of the fact that a little steamer is constantly plying between Jersey and Brittany. It is dependent on the tides for its time of departure. Only in the local papers are the hours advertised. Captain Loftus must have been pretty well posted on the matter to have been aware that on this particular day the little steamer, _La Commerce_, would be starting for St. Brieuc about the time the mail-boat entered Jersey. He must have had some particular object in making for that remote corner of Breton France. No sooner did the boat enter the little harbour than he made a dash for the railway station. Bertie seemed to have passed into another world. He had not the faintest notion where he was. He was not even sure that they had reached Jersey. He heard strange tongues sounding in his ears; saw strange costumes before his eyes. In his then state of bewilderment he would have been quite ready to believe anybody who might have chosen to tell him that he had arrived in Timbuctoo. Some light was thrown upon the subject when they reached the station. The captain took some money out of his pocket and held it out to Bertie. "Go and ask for the tickets," he said. Bertie stared. If he had been told to go and ask the man in the moon for a lock of his hair he could not have been more puzzled. "Do you hear what I say? Go and ask for the tickets." "Tickets? Where for?" The captain hesitated a moment, then said: "Two first-class tickets for Constantinople." He handed Bertie some silver coins. "Two first-class tickets for Constantinople." Bertie stammeringly repeated the words. Could the captain be in earnest? "I want to catch the train; look alive, or----" The captain touched the pocket where the revolver was. Bertie doubtfully advanced to the booking office, gazing behind him as he went to make quite sure that the captain had meant what he said. There was an old lady taking tickets, so he waited his turn. "Two first-class tickets for Constantinople." "_Comment?_"