“Very good, indeed, Solomons; very good. I shall double what I promised you, and make it thirty pounds, and if you are inclined in a month or so to come up here from Liverpool, I will promise you a good berth. But it is time for you to be at work. Remember, you are very likely to be closely watched when you leave the police-station, so take a four-wheel cab, and leave your bag in it, and change your things as you go to the station. Don’t take the cab all the way, but pay him beforehand, and tell him to stop whenever you get into a lock, so that you can slip out and join in the crowd without being noticed; then take another cab to the station, and take your ticket only as far as Crewe: get out there, and go on by the next train.” Events turned out as Solomons had predicted. The police had been all day closely watching the ship “Louisa,” which, with several others, was lying in the stream ready for a start in the morning; but in the evening word came down that from information obtained during the day, there was no doubt that David Symes was not going to America, as had been supposed, but to Australia or some other part. Consequently, the sharp watch which had been kept up over the “Louisa” all day was relaxed, and the vigilance of the police was directed to the other vessels preparing for a start. The foreign sailor, therefore, who was going out as a passenger in her to New York to take command of a French vessel lying there, passed under their eyes almost unheeded, and by eight o’clock next morning, the “Louisa,” with all sail set, and a strong ebb tide underneath her, was running past Woolwich, to stop no more till she furled her sails in New York harbour. Mr. Barton was very busy all day, sitting like a spider in his den, and throwing his threads skilfully abroad to entangle the human flies; which, some buzzing gaily in the sunshine unsuspicious of danger, some hiding in nooks and corners, were yet equally sure, sooner or later, to be caught in the meshes. At a quarter to five Mr. Barton left his office and took his way homeward, in great content at the day’s proceedings. “Rachel,” he said to his wife, on entering, “we will have a bottle of that old crusted port to-day.” “That means you have done a good day’s work, Robert?” “Yes, indeed; the best I have done this many a month. Five hundred pounds clear.” “That is good indeed, Robert. What was it—a cross, I suppose?” “Just so, Rachel. One very seldom makes five hundred in a day’s work by working on the square.” And Mr. Barton told his wife with great glee the day’s incidents. “Four more years, Rachel, and we shall give it up. By the way, that puts me in mind of something,” and he consulted his pocket-book. “It is rather more than six months since I called to see that boy. I will go in there to-morrow night.” “I suppose, Barton, you cannot do anything with him till he gets of age?”