There was a certain relief, and, I think, an odd touch of triumph in Grandfather Nat's face and manner that night as he kissed me, and bade me good-night. As for myself, I did not realise the change, but I had a vague idea that my grandfather had sent away his customer on my account; and for long I lay awake, and wondered why. CHAPTER XXI IN THE BAR-PARLOUR Stephen was sound asleep, and the Hole in the Wall had closed its eyes for the night. The pale man had shuffled off, with his doubts and apprehensions, toward the Highway, and Mr. Cripps was already home in Limehouse. Only the half-drunken sailor was within hail, groping toward some later tavern, and Captain Nat, as he extinguished the lamps in the bar, could hear his song in the distance-- The grub was bad an' the pay was low, Leave her, Johnny, leave her! So hump your duds an' ashore you go For it's time for us to leave her! Captain Nat blew out the last light in the bar and went into the bar-parlour. He took out the cash-box, and stood staring thoughtfully at the lid for some seconds. He was turning at last to extinguish the lamp at his elbow, when there was a soft step without, and a cautious tap at the door. Captain Nat's eyes widened, and the cash-box went back under the shelf. The tap was repeated ere the old man could reach the door and shoot back the bolts. This done, he took the lamp in his left hand, and opened the door. In the black of the passage a man stood, tall and rough. Just such a figure Captain Nat had seen there before, less distinctly, and in a briefer glimpse; for indeed it was Dan Ogle. "Well?" said Captain Nat. "Good evenin', cap'en," Dan answered, with an uncouth mixture of respect and familiarity. "I jist want five minutes with you." "O, you do, do you?" replied the landlord, reaching behind himself to set the lamp on the table. "What is it? I've a notion I've seen you before." "Very like, cap'en. It's all right; on'y business." "Then what's the business?" Dan Ogle glanced to left and right in the gloom of the alley, and edged a step nearer. "Best spoke of indoors," he said, hoarsely. "Best for you an' me too. Nothin' to be afraid of--on'y business." "Afraid of? Phoo! Come in, then." Dan complied, with an awkward assumption of jaunty confidence, and Captain Nat closed the door behind him. "Nobody to listen, I suppose?" asked Ogle. "No, nobody. Out with it!" "Well, cap'en, just now you thought you'd seen me before. Quite right; so you have. You see me in the same place--just outside that there door. An' I borrowed your boat." "Umph!" Captain Nat's eyes were keen and hard. "Is your name Dan Ogle?" "That's it, cap'en." The voice was confident, but the eye was shifty. "Now you know. A chap tried to do me, an' I put his light out. You went for me, an' chased me, but you stuck your hooks in the quids right enough." Dan Ogle tried a grin and a wink, but Captain Nat's frown never changed.