The waiter said this in a tone which showed that he deemed that fact sufficient to render Jones altogether unworthy of human interest; "but I believe," he added slowly, "that he is said to 'ave plenty of money, bears a bad character, and is rather fond of his bottle, sir." "You know nothing more?" "Nothing, sir." "Ham and eggs, dry toast and shrimps," said the keen-eyed traveller in reply to the reiterated question. Before these viands were placed on the table the brief twilight had passed away and darkness en-shrouded land and sea. After they had been consumed the traveller called for the latest local paper, to which he devoted himself for an hour with unflagging zeal--reading it straight through, apparently, advertisements and all, with as much diligence as if it were a part of his professional business to do so. Then he tossed it away, rang the bell, and ordered a candle. "I suppose," he said, pointing towards the sea, as he was about to quit the room, "that that is the floating light?" "It is one of 'em, sir," replied the waiter. "There are three lights on the sands, sir; the Northsan 'ead, the Gull-stream, and the Southsan 'ead. That one, sir, is the Gull." "How far off may it be?" "About four miles, sir." "What is the mate's name?" "Welton, sir, John Welton." "Is he aboard just now?" "Yessir, it's the master's month ashore. The master and mate 'ave it month an' month about, sir--one month afloat, next month ashore; but it seems to me, sir, that they have 'arder work w'en ashore than they 'ave w'en afloat--lookin' after the Trinity stores, sir, an' goin' off in the tender to shift and paint the buoys an' such like; but then you see, sir, w'en it's their turn ashore they always gits home to spend the nights with their families, sir, w'ich is a sort of compensation, as it were,--that's where it is, sir." "Humph! d'you know what time it is slack water out there in the afternoon just now?" "About three o'clock, sir." "Call me at nine to-morrow; breakfast at half-past; beefsteaks, coffee, dry toast. Good-night." "Yessir--good-night, sir--Number 27, sir, first floor, left-hand side." Number 27 slammed his door with that degree of violence which indicates a stout arm and an easy conscience. In less than quarter of an hour the keen grey eyes were veiled in slumber, as was proved unmistakably to the household by the sounds that proceeded from the nose to which these eyes belonged.