The landlord at the door silently recognized him, and led the way in. They crossed a room filled with sailors of all nations drinking; ascended a staircase at the back of the house, and stopped at the door of the room on the second floor. There the landlord spoke for the first time. "He has outrun his allowance, sir, as usual. You will find him with hardly a rag on his back. I doubt if he will last much longer. He had another fit of the horrors last night, and the doctor thinks badly of him." With that introduction he opened the door, and Turlington entered the room. On the miserable bed lay a gray-headed old man of gigantic stature, with nothing on him but a ragged shirt and a pair of patched, filthy trousers. At the side of the bed, with a bottle of gin on the rickety table between them, sat two hideous leering, painted monsters, wearing the dress of women. The smell of opium was in the room, as well as the smell of spirits. At Turlington's appearance, the old man rose on the bed and welcomed him with greedy eyes and outstretched hand. "Money, master!" he called out hoarsely. "A crown piece in advance, for the sake of old times!" Turlington turned to the women without answering, purse in hand. "His clothes are at the pawnbroker's, of course. How much?" "Thirty shillings." "Bring them here, and be quick about it. You will find it worth your while when you come back." The women took the pawnbroker's tickets from the pockets of the man's trousers and hurried out. Turlington closed the door, and seated himself by the bedside. He laid his hand familiarly on the giant's mighty shoulder, looked him full in the face, and said, in a whisper, "Thomas Wildfang!" The man started, and drew his huge hairy hand across his eyes, as if in doubt whether he was waking or sleeping. "It's better than ten years, master, since you called me by my name. If I am Thomas Wildfang, what are you?" "Your captain, once more." Thomas Wildfang sat up on the side of the bed, and spoke his next words cautiously in Turlington's ear. "Another man in the way?" "Yes." The giant shook his bald, bestial head dolefully. "Too late. I'm past the job. Look here." He held up his hand, and showed it trembling incessantly. "I'm an old man," he said, and let his hand drop heavily again on the bed beside him. Turlington looked at the door, and whispered back, "The man is as old as you are. And the money is worth having." "How much?" "A hundred pounds." The eyes of Thomas Wildfang fastened greedily on Turlington's face. "Let's hear," he said. "Softly, captain. Let's hear." * * * * * * * * *