“How are you?” The fisherman straightened his spare old figure and looked at the young man. His face was brown above the beard, and crisscrossed with innumerable fine wrinkles. Beveridge knew, in meeting those faded blue eyes with their patient, subdued expression, that he was facing a man whom he could trust. “I have something to say to you, Captain, that may be a surprise,--I want Annie.” “You want her?” “Yes. You may think I've not known her very long, but it has been long enough to show me that I can't go on any longer without her.” Captain Fargo stood for a moment without replying, then asked simply, “What does she say?” “It isn't settled; I have told her how I feel, and asked her for an answer to-morrow night.” “Isn't she a little young?” “I don't think so.” “And you--you're a student?” “No, I'm not.” “Do you think you could support her? I'm afraid we have taught her to expect more than our position would seem to make right.” “Yes, I can support her comfortably. You see, I--” “Hasn't Annie told me you were a student?” “Yes, I told her that, myself. There was a reason for it, Captain. The situation is unusual, and my only chance of keeping her out of what is to come lies in talking it out plainly with you.” He swept the beach with a swift glance, stepped close to the older man, and spoke rapidly and eagerly in a subdued voice. The Captain removed his hat, and looked out over the water with a distressed expression. “Are you sure you are right about this?” he asked, when Beveridge had finished. “Perfectly.” “You know, it is generally easy to prove a thing when your mind's set on it.” “There is no doubt whatever. My mind is set on nothing but carrying out my orders. Do you think I would tell you this if I didn't have the whole case right in my hands--cold? I tell you, I've got it. It's the end of one of the worst cases in fifty years.” “Well, I don't know. I hate to think it.” “In my business we learn not to think anything. I always thought Maxwell would live and die in the work. If there was a clean man and a good friend to me anywhere on earth, it was Tommy Maxwell. But he had this work before me, and they paid him I don't know how much to cover the scent and skip to Mexico. After all his experience, Tommy couldn't walk by that offer, and now he must end up in Mexico for it. If I told you about the men and the methods that I have had to fight in this business, you would find it hard to believe me. In some ways it has been even a dangerous case.” This was Beveridge's first opportunity to free his mind, and his tongue was threatening to run loose. He was speaking with a certain pride. “You know there is one of us shot, on the average, every year, in this work.” “I don't know,” said Fargo again. “Maybe you are right about her going. It wouldn't be pleasant for her. I 'll speak to her mother about it.” “Of course, the sooner the better.” “Yes. I 'll go in now.”