"Heaven alone knows. Yet one thing I can imagine, can guess from Granger's manner. He is a strong, resolute man, as is easy to see. If, as I do believe is the case, that other ruined him, he would never forgive. He helped to lead him towards Anne's vengeance; he would not falter in exacting his own." "Yet what could he do against Bufton here? In such a place as this?" "I cannot guess. Indeed, all I can hazard is but guess-work. Still, I cannot understand that fellow being here." "Suppose," said Ariadne, "that he himself, this man Bufton, were here on a mission of revenge. Against----" "Against whom, child?" "Against Anne. Doubtless he has never forgiven her for what he must regard as the ruin of his existence. Suppose that! And, perhaps, he hates you for obtaining the wife he thought he was himself going to possess." But at this latter Geoffrey laughed loud and long. Was he not, he asked his wife, the most powerful man in the neighbourhood at the present moment? Did not the _Mignonne_ lie armed in the river, and was she not manned by a stalwart crew? "As well," he said, "might the rogue meditate harm against the old Tower of London lying farther up the stream. While as for Anne," he continued; "well! Anne is aboard my ship, and, when ashore, is able to take her own part, especially as she never goes on land at night. And, dear heart," he concluded, "this is not Naples nor any part of Italy, where people can be hired for a handful of silver pieces to take the lives of others." Yet, all the same, his girl-wife was not convinced, and although she would not say so, she dreaded the time when she and Anne should be left behind, and Geoffrey gone to join the fleet. Meanwhile, not a mile away from where the frigate lay, namely, at Granger's house, a different conversation was taking place between that person and Algernon Bufton, who (true to his word and his deep desire for revenge, which he had been brooding over ever since he had had the idea instilled into his mind) had now returned to the neighbourhood of Blackwall. And here he meant to remain, or, at least, in the locality, though farther down the river, until midnight next day (Sunday). By which time he hoped to see the topsails of the _Nederland_ fill, and the schooner depart with, on board of her, Anne Pottle, his wife, and Lady Barry, her mistress, bound for the American plantations. "All is arranged, all settled now," said Granger. "I protest," and he laughed a little as he spoke, "that you in your most brilliant days--and you were good at schemes in those days--never could have arranged anything more cleverly." "Tell me the scheme," Bufton almost growled now, wishing at the same time that his old dupe would not for ever be harping upon his whilom aptitude for tricking other people. "Tell it to me," he said. "Though," he continued, "I must aver that, if I was once good at schemes, I found an apt pupil in you. You have profited by my instructions."