“I've got a good head,” said Mr. Benn, “else I shouldn't 'ave got my rating as boatswain as soon as I did; and I've been turning it over in my mind, over and over agin, till my brain-pan fair aches with it. Now, if you do what I want you to to-night and it comes off all right, damme I'll make it a quid.” “Go on, Vanderbilt,” said Mr. Travers; “I'm listening.” The boatswain gazed at him fixedly. “You meet me 'ere in this spot at eleven o'clock to-night,” he said, solemnly; “and I'll take you to her 'ouse and put you through a little winder I know of. You goes upstairs and alarms her, and she screams for help. I'm watching the house, faithful-like, and hear 'er scream. I dashes in at the winder, knocks you down, and rescues her. D'ye see?” “I hear,” corrected Mr. Travers, coldly. “She clings to me,” continued the boatswain, with a rapt expression of face, “in her gratitood, and, proud of my strength and pluck, she marries me.” “An' I get a five years' honeymoon,” said the soldier. The boatswain shook his head and patted the other's shoulder. “In the excitement of the moment you spring up and escape,” he said, with a kindly smile. “I've thought it all out. You can run much faster than I can; anyways, you _will_. The nearest 'ouse is arf a mile off, as I said, and her servant is staying till to-morrow at 'er mother's, ten miles away.” Mr. Travers rose to his feet and stretched himself. “Time I was toddling,” he said, with a yawn. “Thanks for amusing me, mate.” “You won't do it?” said the boatswain, eyeing him with much concern. “I'm hanged if I do,” said the soldier, emphatically. “Accidents will happen, and then where should I be?” “If they did,” said the boatswain, “I'd own up and clear you.” “You might,” said Mr. Travers, “and then again you mightn't. So long, mate.” “I—I'll make it two quid,” said the boatswain, trembling with eagerness. “I've took a fancy to you; you're just the man for the job.” The soldier, adjusting his bundle, glanced at him over his shoulder. “Thankee,” he said, with mock gratitude. “Look 'ere,” said the boatswain, springing up and catching him by the sleeve; “I'll give it to you in writing. Come, you ain't faint-hearted? Why, a bluejacket 'ud do it for the fun o' the thing. If I give it to you in writing, and there should be an accident, it's worse for me than it is for you, ain't it?” Mr. Travers hesitated and, pushing his cap back, scratched his head. “I gives you the two quid afore you go into the house,” continued the boatswain, hastily following up the impression he had made. “I'd give 'em to you now if I'd got 'em with me. That's _my_ confidence in _you_; I likes the look of you. Soldier or sailor, when there is a man's work to be done, give 'em to me afore anybody.” The soldier seated himself again and let his bundle fall to the ground. “Go on,” he said, slowly. “Write it out fair and square and sign it, and I'm your man.”