“We’ve both been deceiving you,” interrupted Mr. Heard, loudly. “I didn’t jump into the harbor the other night, and I didn’t tumble in, and Mr. Fred Dix didn’t jump in after me; we just went to the end of the harbor and walked in and wetted ourselves.” There was a moment’s intense silence and all eyes turned on the mate. The latter met them boldly. “It’s a habit o’ mine to walk into the water and spoil my clothes for the sake of people I’ve never met before,” he said, with a laugh. “For shame, Arthur!” said Mr. Smith, with a huge sigh of relief. “’Ow can you?” said Mrs. Smith. “Arthur’s been asleep since then,” said the mate, still smiling. “All the same, the next time he jumps in he can get out by himself.” Mr. Heard, raising his voice, entered into a minute description of the affair, but in vain. Mr. Smith, rising to his feet, denounced his ingratitude in language which was seldom allowed to pass unchallenged in the presence of his wife, while that lady contributed examples of deceitfulness in the past of Mr. Heard, which he strove in vain to refute. Meanwhile, her daughter patted the mate’s hand. “It’s a bit too thin, Arthur,” said the latter, with a mocking smile; “try something better next time.” “Very well,” said Mr. Heard, in quieter tones; “I dare you to come along to the harbor and jump in, just as you are, where you said you jumped in after me. They’ll soon see who’s telling the truth.” “He’ll do that,” said Mr. Smith, with conviction. For a fraction of a second Mr. Dix hesitated, then, with a steady glance at Miss Smith, he sprang to his feet and accepted the challenge. Mrs. Smith besought him not to be foolish, and, with a vague idea of dissuading him, told him a slanderous anecdote concerning Mr. Heard’s aunt. Her daughter gazed at the mate with proud confidence, and, taking his arm, bade her mother to get some dry clothes ready and led the way to the harbor. The night was fine but dark, and a chill breeze blew up from the sea. Twice the hapless mate thought of backing out, but a glance at Miss Smith’s profile and the tender pressure of her arm deterred him. The tide was running out and he had a faint hope that he might keep afloat long enough to be washed ashore alive. He talked rapidly, and his laugh rang across the water. Arrived at the spot they stopped, and Miss Smith looking down into the darkness was unable to repress a shiver. “Be careful, Fred,” she said, laying her hand upon his arm. The mate looked at her oddly. “All right,” he said, gayly, “I’ll be out almost before I’m in. You run back to the house and help your mother get the dry clothes ready for me.” His tones were so confident, and his laugh so buoyant, that Mr. Heard, who had been fully expecting him to withdraw from the affair, began to feel that he had under-rated his swimming powers. “Just jumping in and swimming out again is not quite the same as saving a drownding man,” he said, with a sneer. In a flash the mate saw a chance of escape.