Mr. Wilks acquiesced eagerly, and tapping at the door passed through the room again into the street. A glance as he went through showed him that Jack Nugent was drinking, and he set off in a panic to get away from the scene which he had contrived. He slackened after a time and began to pace the streets at a rate which was less noticeable. As he passed the Kybirds’ he shivered, and it was not until he had consumed a pint or two of the strongest brew procurable at the Two Schooners that he began to regain some of his old self-esteem. He felt almost maudlin at the sacrifice of character he was enduring for the sake of his old master, and the fact that he could not narrate it to sympathetic friends was not the least of his troubles. The shops had closed by the time he got into the street again, and he walked down and watched with much solemnity the reflection of the quay lamps in the dark water of the harbour. The air was keen and the various craft distinct in the starlight. Perfect quiet reigned aboard the _Seabird_, and after a vain attempt to screw up his courage to see the victim taken aboard he gave it up and walked back along the beach. [Illustration: “It was not until he had consumed a pint or two of the strongest brew that he began to regain some of his old self-esteem.”] By the time he turned his steps homewards it was nearly eleven o’clock. Fullalove Alley was quiet, and after listening for some time at his window he turned the handle of the door and passed in. The nearly empty bottle stood on the table, and an over-turned tumbler accounted for a large, dark patch on the table-cloth. As he entered the room the kitchen door opened and Mr. Nathan Smith, with a broad smile on his face, stepped briskly in. “All over,” he said, rubbing his hands; “he went off like a lamb, no trouble nor fighting. He was a example to all of us.” “Did the cap’n see ’im aboard?” inquired Mr. Wilks. “Certainly not,” said the other. “As a matter o’ fact the cap’n took a little more than I told ’im to take, and I ’ad to help ’im up to your bed. Accidents will ’appen, but he’ll be all right in the morning if nobody goes near ’im. Leave ’im perfectly quiet, and when ’e comes downstairs give ’im a strong cup o’ tea.” “In my bed?” repeated the staring Mr. Wilks. “He’s as right as rain,” said the boarding master. “I brought down a pillow and blankets for you and put ’em in the kitchen. And now I’ll take the other two pound ten and be getting off ’ome. It ought to be ten pounds really with the trouble I’ve ’ad.” Mr. Wilks laid the desired amount on the table, and Mr. Nathan Smith placing it in his pocket rose to go. “Don’t disturb ’im till he’s ’ad ’is sleep out, mind,” he said, pausing at the door, “else I can’t answer for the consequences. If ’e should get up in the night and come down raving mad, try and soothe ’im. Good-night and pleasant dreams.”