But, on further reflection, he decided that his proper course was to take no notice at all. He must behave as if the man and his movements were absolutely nothing to him. The weak spot was Doggett. If the detective got on to him, the Old Man was bound to give away the fact that Felix was the chap who had traveled from London with him. How could he warn him, without exciting suspicion? He bitterly blamed himself for sleeping upon the barge. He might have had the common intelligence to reflect that, if inquiries were made, it was likely the barge would be traced, and that the place to which anybody in need of information would come would be that precise spot. What would happen in the morning? Doggett usually appeared when Felix had done breakfast, and was starting for the wood-yard at half-past six. To reach his barge, he must pass the man on the wharf, and he would be questioned. On the other hand, if Felix pushed matters forward and hurried off in time to intercept Doggett, the man on the wharf might join him, and insist on walking beside him. He thought over this, long and carefully, and a brilliant idea suggested itself. Rising in the gray dawn, he washed and dressed carefully. He put on a collar and tie, a height of elegance which the wood-yard had hitherto never dreamt of. No matter, it was easily removed when he got there. The suit he had purchased with the money earned by his secretarial labors was tidy and quiet, and gave him the appearance of a very respectable young clerk. He was not at all like the gaunt, starved scarecrow in his grimy jersey and greasy trousers. His hair and beard were trim, though he had not shaved. He cooked his bloater, made his tea, and set all ready for breakfast. But before beginning it he slipped out upon the wharf, and approached the cabin of the night-watchman, whose habit was to breakfast at six before leaving his post for home and bed. It was half-past five when Felix peeped into his cabin, and not yet fully light. The detective's form could be dimly seen for a moment, huddled a little sideways. He had yielded for an hour to an ungovernable drowsiness. "There's a poor chap out there," said Felix, softly, "who's what they call a right-to-worker. He wants a job on this wharf. We ain't got no jobs, but you might, when your coffee's ready, mate, give him a bite if you felt like it. I would meself, only I'm afraid of getting hindered and fined up at the yard." The night-watchman sat staring. He was a stupid man, but kind. "A'right," said he, huskily, at last. "In a quarter of a hour." "Look here, mate, thankye kindly for that. I'm buying baccy to-day, and I won't forget you. But your ear one moment. Don't let him get pumping you about the work on this here wharf, or Old Man Doggett'll be jumping on us. Just tell him there's no work going, and if there is you don't know anything about it. Last night he wanted to know the family history of every barge owner in the place."