Fortune favored them, or rather Money did. Money is a great magician. No wonder it is sometimes fatally mistaken for a god, and more fatally worshiped as one. In answer to their inquiries, they were told of a swift-sailing, schooner-rigged yacht, owned by a company that were in the habit of letting it out to parties of pleasure for excursions to the Channel Isles or along the coast. And they were directed to the spot where the “Flying Foam” lay idly at anchor, and were told that the master of the crew was also the agent of the company. Encouraged by this information, our party engaged a row-boat, and went out into the harbor, and boarded the “Flying Foam.” The master happened to be on deck. He came forward to meet the boarding-party. “Is this yacht disengaged?” inquired the General. “Yes, sir.” “Can we engage it for immediate service?” “For immediate service—that is very sudden, sir?” remarked the master, looking suspiciously at the speaker. “I know it is, but so is our business sudden, being a matter of life and death. We cannot wait for the sailing of the steamer. But we are willing to pay extra price for extra haste,” replied the General. And there was that about his stately form and fine face, and martial manner which rebuked the suspicion, while the words, and particularly the promise of extra pay appealed to the interest of the agent. “You want the yacht immediately, you say, sir?” he inquired. “Immediately, or as soon as the tide will serve.” “The tide will serve in half an hour, sir.” “Can she be got ready?” “For what port, sir?” “St. Aubins.” The master rubbed his forehead and looked down at his shoes, as if in deep cogitation. “My friend, while you are deliberating, time is flying,” said the General impatiently. “She can be got ready fast enough, sir. It isn’t that. Why, sir, you are strangers to us, and we don’t know anything of what you are in such a hurry for.” “We go to arrest a party, and prevent a duel, if you must know!” exclaimed the General, impatiently disregarding the signals of the detective, who would have cautioned him. “Oh! beg pardon, sir; but this is—is going to cost a pretty penny—and——” “And you don’t feel safe as to the payment, eh? If that is all, you may weigh anchor and hoist sail at once, for I have not come unprovided,” said General Lyon, taking out his pocket-book and displaying a large roll of hundred pound Bank of England notes. “You do not suspect them to be counterfeits, I hope?” laughed the General. “Oh, no! beg pardon, sir. It is all right now, I am only an agent, sir, and held responsible by my employers.” “To be sure. And now I hope you can set your crew to work.” “Are you going just as you are, sir? Would you like to go on shore first?” “We have no time to lose in going on shore. We shall go to St. Aubins just as we are. I suppose there are shops in that town where one may procure the necessaries of life?” “Oh, certainly, sir.”