He was keenly watching Andrius, and as the skipper of the _Pike_ suddenly moved, he drew Spurge further into the alley. "He's coming out of that hatchway!" whispered Copplestone. "If he comes ashore he'll see us, and then--" "No matter, guv'nor," said Spurge reassuringly. "They can't get out o' Scarvell's Cut into the river till the tide serves. Yes, that's Cap'n Andrius right enough--and he's coming ashore." Andrius had by that time drawn himself out of the hatchway and now revealed himself in the jersey, the thick leg-wear, and short sea-boots of an oceangoing man. Copplestone's recollection of him as he showed himself on board the _Pike_ was of a very smartly attired, rather dandified person--only some deep scheme, he knew, would have caused him to assume this disguise, and he watched him with interest as he rolled ashore and disappeared within the lower story of the sail-loft. Spurge, too, watched with all his eyes, and he turned to Copplestone with a gleam of excitement. "Guv'nor!" he said. "We've trapped 'em beautiful! I know that place--I've worked in there in my time. I know a way into it, from the back--we'll get in that way and see what's being done. 'Tain't worked no longer, that sail-loft--it's all falling to pieces. But first--help!" "How are we to get that?" asked Copplestone, eagerly. "I'll go it," replied Spurge. "I know a man just aback of here that'll run up to the town with a message--chap that can be trusted, sure and faithful. 'Bide here five minutes, sir--I'll send a message to Mr. Vickers--this chap'll know him and'll find him. He can come down with the rest--and the police, too, if he likes. Keep your eyes skinned, guv'nor." He twisted away like an eel into the crowd of workers and idlers, and left Copplestone at the entrance to the alley, watching. And he had not been so left more than a couple of minutes when a woman slipped past the mouth of the alley, swiftly, quietly, looking neither to right nor left, of whose veiled head and face he caught one glance. And in that glance he recognized her--Addie Chatfield! But in the moment of that glance Copplestone also recognized something vastly more important. Here was the explanation of the mystery of the early-morning doings at the old tower. The footprints of a woman who wore fashionable and elegant boots? Addie Chatfield, of course! Was she not old Peter's daughter, a chip of the old block, even though a feminine chip? And did not he and Gilling know that she had been mixed up with Peter at the Bristol affair? Great Scott!--why, of course. Addie was an accomplice in all these things!