The boarding-house, an old and dilapidated building, was in a bystreet convenient to the harbour. The front door stood open, and a couple of seamen lounging on the broken steps made way for him civilly as he entered and rapped on the bare boards with his stick. Mr. Smith, clattering down the stairs in response, had some difficulty in concealing his surprise at the visit, but entered genially into a conversation about the weather, a subject in which he was much interested. When the shipbroker began to discuss the object of his visit he led him to a small sitting-room at the back of the house and repeated the information he had given to Mr. Wilks. [Illustration: “In search of Mr. Smith.”] “That’s all there is to tell,” he concluded, artlessly; “the cap’n was that ashamed of hisself, he’s laying low for a bit. We all make mistakes sometimes; I do myself.” “I am much obliged to you,” said Mr. Swann, gratefully. “You’re quite welcome, sir,” said the boarding-master. “And now,” said the visitor, musingly—“now for the police.” “Police!” repeated Mr. Smith, almost hastily. “What for?” “Why, to find the captain,” said Mr. Swann, in a surprised voice. Mr. Smith shook his head. “You’ll offend the cap’n bitter if you go to the police about ’im, sir,” he declared. “His last words to me was, ‘Smith, ’ave this kept quiet.’” “It’ll be a little job for the police,” urged the shipbroker. “They don’t have much to do down here; they’ll be as pleased as possible.” “They’ll worry your life out of you, sir,” said the other. “You don’t know what they are.” “I like a little excitement,” returned Mr. Swann. “I don’t suppose they’ll trouble me much, but they’ll turn your place topsy-turvy, I expect. Still, that can’t be helped. You know what fools the police are; they’ll think you’ve murdered the captain and hidden his body under the boards. They’ll have all the floors up. Ha, ha, ha!” “’Aving floors up don’t seem to me to be so amusing as wot it does to you,” remarked Mr. Smith, coldly. “They may find all sorts of treasure for you,” continued his visitor. “It’s a very old house, Smith, and there may be bags of guineas hidden away under the flooring. You may be able to retire.” “You’re a gentleman as is fond of his joke, Mr. Swann,” returned the boarding-master, lugubriously. “I wish I’d got that ’appy way of looking at things you ’ave.” “I’m not joking, Smith,” said the other, quietly. Mr. Smith pondered and, stealing a side-glance at him, stood scraping his foot along the floor. “There ain’t nothing much to tell,” he grumbled, “and, mind, the worst favour you could do to the cap’n would be to put it about how he was done. He’s gone for a little trip instead of ’is son, that’s all.” “Little trip!” repeated the other; “you call a whaling cruise a little trip?”