“Yes, of course. I'm not going off anywhere.” There was apparently no further need for quiet, yet she was half a minute closing the front door after her. Again she looked up and down the beach. She could see the street now on the low bluff; but no one appeared within the light of the corner gas lamp. Then she hurried along the beach, climbed up on the pier by some rough steps that she knew, and walked rapidly out toward the schooner, stepping on the balls of her feet, and avoiding loose planks. CHAPTER VIII--THE EVENING OF THE SAME DAY [Illustration:0206] ONCE within the shadow of the lumber Annie paused. Not a sound came from the two schooners. She knew that the _Merry Anne_ lay to leeward, on the north side, and after a moment of listening and a glance behind she turned toward it, making her way by feeling the lumber until she found an opening. In another moment she stood at the edge of the pier, looking down on the schooner. At first she thought Dick must be asleep, for there was no light in the cabin; then she saw him sitting on the cabin trunk, his hands clasped about his knees, his pipe between his teeth, his eyes fixed on the dark water. The night was still, the lapping of the ripples was the only sound. “Dick,” she whispered. He turned with a start and removed his pipe. Though he looked directly toward her, he evidently could not see her, for her black dress blended with the shadows. “Dick,” she said again. This time he ducked under the boom and came across to the rail. “Who's there?” “It's me, Dick. I'm coming down.” “No, wait.” He stepped up beside her, and added, in a low, uncertain voice, “You might wake Pink; he's sleeping below.” And before she knew it, his pipe lay on a plank and he had taken both her hands. “You came out to see me, Annie?” “Yes, but wait, Dick; I don't know how to tell you--I couldn't help coming--” He waited for her to go on, but she could not. She could not even withdraw her hands, but stood motionless, her wits fluttering. Finally he spoke:-- “You said you came to tell me--” “Not that, Dick--not what you think. It's something else.” He released her hands. He even, in his bewilderment, took up his pipe again. “I've found something out, Dick. I couldn't let it go by without telling you. It's about--Mr. Beveridge.” “Oh,” said Dick. “Did you think he was a student?” “Yes, I thought so.” “Well, he isn't at all.” “Oh,” said Dick again. And then, “Isn't he?” “No, he has something to do with--don't you understand what I'm getting at, Dick?” He shook his head. “Are you going to make me tell you?” “You needn't tell me anything you don't want to, Annie.” “O dear, I don't understand it myself, much of it; but I thought you would if what he says is true.” “It's something about me, then?” “Yes, Dick,--and the revenue cutter.” “The revenue cutter?” “Yes, the _Foote_. He has something to do with her.” “He's a revenue officer, then?”