“Well, it doesn’t signify. I shall wait here till he comes,” said Mrs. Tipping. “What, Ananias?” cried Fraser, forgetting himself. Mrs. Tipping, scorning to reply, stood for some time gazing thoughtfully about her. Then, in compliance with her whispered instructions, her daughter crossed to the side and, brushing aside the outstretched hand of the watchman, reached the jetty and walked into the office. Two of the clerks were still working there, and she came back hastily to her mother with the story of the captain’s death unmistakably confirmed. Mrs. Tipping, loath to accept defeat, stood for some time in consideration. “What had Captain Flower to do with Mr. Robinson?” she asked at length, turning to Fraser. “Can’t say,” was the reply. “Have you ever seen Mr. Robinson?” enquired the girl. “I saw him one night,” said the other, after some deliberation. “Rather good-looking man, bright blue eyes, good teeth, and a jolly laugh.” “Are you likely to see him again?” enquired Miss Tipping, nodding in confirmation of these details. “Not now poor Flower’s gone,” replied Fraser. “I fancy we shipped some cases of rifles for him one night. The night you first came. I don’t know what it all was about, but he struck me as being rather a secretive sort of man.” “He was that,” sighed Miss Tipping, shaking her head. “I heard him say that night,” said the mate, forgetful of his recent longings after truth, “that he was off abroad. He said that something was spoiling his life, I remember, but that duty came first.” “There, do you hear that, mother?” said Miss Tipping. “Yes, I hear,” said the other, with an aggressive sniff, as she moved slowly to the side. “But I’m not satisfied that the captain is dead. They’d tell us anything. You’ve not seen the last of me, young man, I can tell you.” “I hope not,” said Fraser, cordially. “Any time the ship’s up in London and you care to come down, I shall be pleased to see you.” Mrs. Tipping, heated with the climb, received this courtesy with coldness, and having enquired concerning the fate of Captain Flower of six different people, and verified their accounts from the landlord of the public-house at the corner, to whom she introduced herself with much _aplomb_ as being in the profession, went home with her daughter, in whom depression, in its most chronic form, had settled in the form of unfilial disrespect. Two hours later the _Foam_ got under way, and, after some heated language owing to the watchman mistaking Mr. Green’s urbanity for sarcasm, sailed slowly down the river. The hands were unusually quiet, but their behaviour passed unnoticed by the new skipper, who was too perturbed by the falsehoods he had told and those he was about to tell to take much heed of anything that was passing. “I thought you said you preferred to keep for’ard?” he said to Ben, as that worthy disturbed his meditations next morning by bustling into the cabin and taking his seat at the breakfast table.