“No, I ca’n’t let you out again!” he said, before the children could speak. “The Vice-Warden gave it me, he did, for letting you out last time! So be off with you!” And, turning away from them, he began digging frantically in the middle of a gravel-walk, singing, over and over again, “‘Poor thing,’ he said, ‘poor silly thing! It’s waiting to be fed!’” but in a more musical tone than the shrill screech in which he had begun. The music grew fuller and richer at every moment: other manly voices joined in the refrain: and soon I heard the heavy thud that told me the boat had touched the beach, and the harsh grating of the shingle as the men dragged it up. I roused myself, and, after lending them a hand in hauling up their boat, I lingered yet awhile to watch them disembark a goodly assortment of the hard-won ‘treasures of the deep.’ When at last I reached our lodgings I was tired and sleepy, and glad enough to settle down again into the easy-chair, while Arthur hospitably went to his cupboard, to get me out some cake and wine, without which, he declared, he could not, as a doctor, permit my going to bed. And how that cupboard-door _did_ creak! It surely could not be _Arthur_, who was opening and shutting it so often, moving so restlessly about, and muttering like the soliloquy of a tragedy-queen! No, it was a _female_ voice. Also the figure—half-hidden by the cupboard-door—was a _female_ figure, massive, and in flowing robes. Could it be the landlady? The door opened, and a strange man entered the room. “What _is_ that donkey doing?” he said to himself, pausing, aghast, on the threshold. The lady, thus rudely referred to, was his wife. She had got one of the cupboards open, and stood with her back to him, smoothing down a sheet of brown paper on one of the shelves, and whispering to herself “So, so! Deftly done! Craftily contrived!” Her loving husband stole behind her on tiptoe, and tapped her on the head. “Boh!” he playfully shouted at her ear. “Never tell me again I ca’n’t say ‘boh’ to a goose!” My Lady wrung her hands. “Discovered!” she groaned. “Yet no—he is one of us! Reveal it not, oh Man! Let it bide its time!” “Reveal _what_ not?” her husband testily replied, dragging out the sheet of brown paper. “What are you hiding here, my Lady? I insist upon knowing!” My Lady cast down her eyes, and spoke in the littlest of little voices. “Don’t make fun of it, Benjamin!” she pleaded. “It’s—it’s—don’t you understand? It’s a DAGGER!” “And what’s _that_ for?” sneered His Excellency. “We’ve only got to make people _think_ he’s dead! We haven’t got to _kill_ him! And made of tin, too!” he snarled, contemptuously bending the blade round his thumb. “Now, Madam, you’ll be good enough to explain. First, what do you call me _Benjamin_ for?” “It’s part of the Conspiracy, Love! One _must_ have an alias, you know——” “Oh, an _alias_, is it? Well! And next, what did you get this dagger for? Come, no evasions! You ca’n’t deceive _me_!”