As he spoke, the Commander of the ship, which had borne so odious an imputation, directed the eyes of his companion to the form of a third individual, who had entered the cabin with the freedom of a privileged person, but with a tread so light as to be inaudible. As this unexpected form met the quick, impatient glance of the pretended officer of the Crown, he arose involuntarily, and, for half a minute, that admirable command of muscle and nerve, which had served him so well in maintaining his masquerade, appeared entirely to desert him. The loss of self-possession, however, was but for a time so short as to attract no notice; and he coolly returned the salutations of an aged man, of a meek and subdued look, with that air of blandness and courtesy which he so well knew how to assume. “This gentleman is your chaplain, sir, I presume, by his clerical attire,” he said, after he had exchanged bows with the stranger. “He is, sir—a worthy and honest man, whom I am not ashamed to call my friend. After a separation of thirty years, the Admiral has been good enough to lend him to me for the cruise; and, though my ship is none of the largest, I believe he finds himself as comfortable in her as he would aboard the flag.—This gentleman, Doctor, is the _honourable_ Captain Howard, of his Majesty’s ship ‘Antelope.’ I need not expatiate on his remarkable merit, since the command he bears, at his years, is a sufficient testimony on that important particular.” There was a look of bewildered surprise in the gaze of the divine, when his glance first fell upon the features of the pretended scion of nobility; but it was far less striking than had been that of the subject of his gaze, and of much shorter continuance. He again bowed meekly, and with that deep reverence which long use begets, even in the best-intentioned minds, when brought in contact with the fancied superiority of hereditary rank; but he did not appear to consider the occasion one that required he should say more than the customary words of salutation. The Rover turned calmly to his veteran companion, and continued the discourse. “Captain Bignall,” he said, again wearing that grace of manner which became him so well, “it is my duty to follow your motions in this interview. I will now return to my ship; and if, as I begin to suspect we are in these seas on a similar errand, we can concert at our leisure a system of co-operation, which, properly matured by your experience, may serve to bring about the common end we have in view.”