For a short space there was silence in the office, broken only by the half-audible interjections of the reader. Then he spoke. “Simmons!” he said sharply. The old clerk slipped from his stool, and obeying the motions of his employer inspected, in great astonishment, the first disbursement sheet which had ever entered the office. He read through every item in an astonished whisper, and, having finished, followed the governor’s example and gazed at the heavy figure by the window. “Captain Fazackerly,” said his employer, at length, breaking a painful silence. “Sir,” said the captain, turning his head a little. “I’ve been talking with Simmons about these disbursement sheets,” said the owner, somewhat awkwardly; “Simmons is afraid they’ll give him a lot of extra trouble.” The captain turned his head a little more, and gazed stolidly at the astonished Simmons. “A man oughtn’t to mind a little extra trouble if the firm wishes it,” he said somewhat severely. “He’s afraid it would throw his books out a bit,” continued the owner, deftly avoiding the gaze of the injured clerk. “You see, Simmons’ book-keeping is of the old-fashioned kind, cap’n, star-fishes and all that kind of thing,” he continued, incoherently, as the gaze of Simmons, refusing to be longer avoided, broke the thread of his discourse. “So I think we’ll put the paper on the fire, cap’n, and do business in the old way. Have you got the money with you?” “I have, sir,” said Fazackerly, feeling in his pocket, as he mournfully watched his last night’s work blazing up the chimney. “Fire away, then,” said the owner, almost cordially. Captain Fazackerly advanced to the table, and clearing his throat, fixed his eyes in a reflective stare on the opposite wall and commenced:— “Blown away fore lower topsail, fore-staysail, and carried away lifts to staysail. To sailmaker for above, eleven pounds eighteen shillings and ten-pence,” he said, with relish. “Tug out to the bar, three pounds. To twenty-eight pounds black soot, I mean paint—” RULE OF THREE The long summer day had gone and twilight was just merging into night. A ray of light from the lantern at the end of the quay went trembling across the sea, and in the little harbour the dusky shapes of a few small craft lay motionless on the dark water. The master of the schooner _Harebell_ came slowly towards the harbour, accompanied by his mate. Both men had provided ashore for a voyage which included no intoxicants, and the dignity of the skipper, always a salient feature, had developed tremendously under the influence of brown stout. He stepped aboard his schooner importantly, and then, turning to the mate, who was about to follow, suddenly held up his hand for silence. “What did I tell you?” he inquired severely as the mate got quietly aboard. “About knocking down the two policemen?” guessed the mate, somewhat puzzled. “No,” said the other shortly. “Listen.”