“Emma,” said the mate, “I just put my hands up and dived in. When I came to the surface I struck out for him and tried to seize him from behind, but before I could do so he put his arms round my neck like—like—” “Like as if it was Emma’s,” suggested the voice by the door. Miss Smith rose with majestic dignity and confronted the speaker. “And who asked you in here, George Harris?” she inquired, coldly. “I see the door open,” stammered Mr. Harris—“I see the door open and I thought—” “If you look again you’ll see the handle,” said Miss Smith. Mr. Harris looked, and, opening the door with extreme care, melted slowly from a gaze too terrible for human endurance. “We went down like a stone,” continued the mate, as Miss Smith resumed her seat and smiled at him. “When we came up he tried to get away again. I think we went down again a few more times, but I ain’t sure. Then we crawled out; leastways I did, and pulled him after me.” “He might have drowned you,” said Miss Smith, with a severe glance at her unfortunate admirer. “And it’s my belief that he tumbled in after all, and when you thought he was struggling to get away he was struggling to be saved. That’s more like him.” “Well, they’re all right now,” said Mr. Smith, as Mr. Heard broke in with some vehemence. “And this chap’s going to ’ave the Royal Society’s medal for it, or I’ll know the reason why.” “No, no,” said the mate, hurriedly; “I wouldn’t take it, I couldn’t think of it.” “Take it or leave it,” said Mr. Smith; “but I’m going to the police to try and get it for you. I know the inspector a bit.” “I can’t take it,” said the horrified mate; “it—it—besides, don’t you see, if this isn’t kept quiet Mr. Heard will be locked up for trying to commit suicide.” “So he would be,” said the other man from his post by the door; “he’s quite right.” “And I’d sooner lose fifty medals,” said Mr. Dix. “What’s the good of me saving him for that?” A murmur of admiration at the mate’s extraordinary nobility of character jarred harshly on the ears of Mr. Heard. Most persistent of all was the voice of Miss Smith, and hardly able to endure things quietly, he sat and watched the tender glances which passed between her and Mr. Dix. Miss Smith, conscious at last of his regards, turned and looked at him. “You could say you tumbled in, Arthur, and then he would get the medal,” she said, softly. “_Say!_” shouted the overwrought Mr. Heard. “Say I tum—” Words failed him. He stood swaying and regarding the company for a moment, and then, flinging open the door, closed it behind him with a bang that made the house tremble. The mate followed half an hour later, escorted to the ship by the entire Smith family. Fortified by the presence of Miss Smith, he pointed out the exact scene of the rescue without a tremor, and, when her father narrated the affair to the skipper, whom they found sitting on deck smoking a last pipe, listened undismayed to that astonished mariner’s comments.