“Not a word, Phil, my boy,” said the Captain, in a hoarse whisper—“till sich time as you gets a drop of summink warmin’ inside yer. You’ve ’ad sich an uncommonly lively time lately, an’ ’ave bin tumbled about to that extent, as it’s a marvel ter me if you ’ave any system left at all. So down with it, Phil, my lad—with the noble sentiment—(I feels like a boy-pirate meself!)—‘Confusion to the perlice!’” “I am more grateful to you, old friend, than I can say,” said Philip, “and, if I can get these bracelets off, I shall be able to drink, or to do anything else with greater ease. However, I’ll drink to the toast with all my heart.” He raised the glass in both his manacled hands, with a laugh. “We’ll ’ave them little ornyments orf in ’arf a jiffy,” said the Captain, diving into the locker again. “We guessed you might ’ave summink of that sort, as a little delicate attention from your friends—so we got pervided accordin’. ’Ere’s a file from our ’andy-man’s tool-bag; an’ I reckon I’d best ’ave a go at the rivets.” The Captain set to work at once; nor would he utter a word, in reply to any questions, until the handcuffs were removed. It took some considerable time, and while the filing went on, Philip noticed that the melancholy man kept his eyes fixed upon the floor—only occasionally indulging in that extraordinary cough, with which he had been afflicted at the Chater Arms. At last, the handcuffs being safely put out of sight, the Captain, turning to the melancholy man, said abruptly—“Now then, Skerritt, my boy—let’s know ’ow this ’ere affair was brought orf for the infermation of Mr. Chater. This, Phil,” he added, “is a man as is to be trusted with anythink—from untold gold to w’iskey—a man as formerly sailed under me, an’ ’as joined me, as a sort of depitty clown. I’ll own,” added the Captain, in a hoarse whisper behind his hand to Philip—“I’ll own as ’e don’t look it—but ’e’s got a way with ’im, w’en ’e’s painted up, as would fairly astonish yer.” Mr. Skerritt immediately plunged into an account of his doings, and of how he contrived to meet Philip; explaining it all with many of those curious sounds before referred to, and with much rolling of one melancholy eye. He had a curious funereal voice, as though it had sunk below the usual level at some period, of great depression, and had never been got up again.