Grigge gave the note to Anastasius Grubb and watched him as he read it. He was not thinking so much about the note, or what Anastasius would do, as he was about the man himself, for he was the oddest man that he had ever seen; his beard was so rich and full and brown, his voice so deep, so like a bellows, and his eyebrows so thick and frowning. After he had read the note he looked Grigge over as though he thought he was rather curious also. Then he destroyed the note. It was the one that Humphrey had written, and that Dian had sent, with his own, to Grigge, first by Raoul and then by Champar. Champar had gone back to Paris. Grigge was watching for him every day now, and he knew that the little party of fugitives in the forsaken barn near the city were watching, too. Anastasius knew some French, having picked it up while carrying on his trade back and forth, and he used it now on Grigge. “I’ll be waiting every night with a rowboat by the willow woods three miles south of the light-house station. I’ll keep hidden, and I’ll see that the schooner doesn’t bring suspicion on itself. Tell them I’ll be waiting. I’d do that and more for Humphrey Trail. We’ve played together as lads and, please Heaven, we’ll continue friends this many a year to come.” Anastasius relapsed into English at the last, but Grigge understood about the willow woods and the boat. He thought of Dian and that he would soon be seeing him and he smiled. That made him look so different that the skipper exclaimed: “Th’art na so ugly when tha smiles; that th’art not!” Then Grigge left him and went back through long circuitous ways through the country roads to the barn. He walked slowly and with the satisfied air of one who has at last accomplished something of moment. He had waited patiently day after day near the docks at Calais for a glimpse of the skipper of the _Sandlass_. Champar had been gone over a week and still there was no sign of this Anastasius Grubb, who alone, of all the owners of fishing crafts in and around the harbor, could take safely to England the little band of people who were at his mercy in Champar’s uncle’s barn, near the coast.