There was a long row of sheds at the far end of the town of Hull, open towards the Humber, and enclosed on three sides towards the town. A little patch of green lay on one side the city wall; on the other, between the sheds and the river, ran a small footpath, and behind rose a good-looking dwelling of two stories high. With a quick but quiet step--unusually quiet, indeed, for he generally displayed his high opinion of himself in the elasticity of his toes--Captain Barecolt pursued the little path till he came in front of the sheds, and then paused to reconnoitre the ground. He first looked into the open side of the buildings; but nothing did he see only sundry stockfish hanging up in rows by the tails, together with a heap of coals in one corner, and two large bales or packages covered with canvass in another. He then looked over the Humber, where the sun was struggling with some misty clouds, gilding the sky, and glittering on the calm, unruffled waters. There was nothing of great importance to be discovered on that side either, and the only object that seemed to attract the attention of the worthy captain was the top of a boat's mast, which rose over the bank between him and the river. As soon as he perceived it, he turned an ear in that direction, and thought he heard people speaking, upon which he advanced quietly to the top of the bank and looked down. There was a man in the boat, apparently about to push off, and another standing on the shore, giving him some directions; and the first sight of the latter showed our friend that he had not mistaken his way; for there he beheld the stout, tall, good-looking elderly man whom he had seen with Mrs. White on the preceding evening. His back was turned to Captain Barecolt, and, as the latter stood waiting till the boat had pushed off, he heard him say, "Well, don't make a noise about it. Do everything easily and quietly." The man in the boat, however, at once caught a sight of the intruder upon their conversation, and pointed towards him with his hand, upon which Mr. Hugh O'Donnell turned quickly round, with an inquiring and somewhat stern expression, and then advanced straight up to Captain Barecolt, while the boat rowed away. "Pray, sir, are you wanting me?" demanded Mr. O'Donnell, with a strong touch of that peculiar percussion of the breath which has acquired--why or wherefore who can tell?--the name of "brogue," regarding the captain, at the same time, with not the most amicable glance in the world. "Yes, Master O'Donnell," replied Barecolt, in good plain English, "I am wanting you; and by your leave we must have a little conversation together."