Hector was dead beat. He opened the door, he was so exhausted he fell fast asleep before he had time to undress. Brack sat ruminating until an early hour. This discovery that his guest was Hector Woodridge stunned him, he could not comprehend it. He recollected all about the celebrated trial which resulted in Hector Woodridge being condemned to death for the murder of the husband of the woman he had become entangled with. All Yorkshire signed the petition for a reprieve and the sentence was commuted to penal servitude for life. He remembered how the shock killed Admiral Woodridge, Hector's father. Brack went to the old black horse-hair sofa and lay down. He was soon asleep, dreaming in a few minutes, strange dreams in which convicts, Dartmoor, the _Sea-mew_, The Rascal, Carl Hackler, and divers and other persons and places were mixed up in the most extraordinary manner. A knocking at the door roused Brack. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes, yawned, struggled to his feet. He had his sailor clothes on. Another knock. "Comin'. Don't be in such a hurry. Leave the milk can, yer fool." Another knock. "Must be deaf. Drat the lad, what's he wakin' an honest man up at this hour for?" He went to the door, unlocked it, pulled back the bolt, opened it, and found Carl Hackler standing before him. As Brack said afterward: "I wish I could 'ave pushed him into the harbor, me a'top of him." "'Morning, Brack. I want a boat; can you come quick?" said Carl. Brack's relief was so great that he gave a loud, startling laugh. "What the deuce is the matter with you? Have you suddenly gone mad?" "Sane as you are, Mister Hackler," said Brack. "Maybe a bit saner at times." "I believe you fooled me about that man being rowed out to the tramp. Anyhow the tramp's here, put back for something I suppose, and I'm going to board her before she leaves again, and question the skipper. I particularly want you to row me out because I mean to tell him who gave me the information while you are alongside," said Hackler. "Now I call that nice of you," said Brack. "Here I gives you the best tip I can and you want to get me into trouble if it's correct. I did my best for yer, Mr. Hackler, on my honor." "Will you row me out?" said Hackler impatiently. "What's it worth?" "Five shillings." "I'll be with you in a minute," said Brack. "I'll just tell mother." "Let her know her little boy is going out in good company," said Hackler. "I'll tell her who I'm goin' with, then she can judge for herself, whether the company's good or bad," replied Brack. Hackler laughed as he said: "You're a smart chap, Brack." "Am I? Then perhaps you can find me a job out your way." "Better where you are," said Hackler, with what sounded very much like a sigh. Brack went into his mother's room. She was awake. "What is it, lad?" she asked.