“The Cap’n ’avin’ passed the word as there were a shipmate in distress, I started out fer ter sight ’im; got wind that ’e might be expected in Bamberton—wind an’ tide bein’, so ter speak, favourable. The Cap’n ’ere come as far as the cross-roads wi’ me an’ we arranged signals. Then I ’eard a fair rumpus in the village, an’ got up jus’ in time to see the perliceman a bein’ pounded in the ribs by a ole gent in his stockin’ feet, an’ Mr. Chater a layin’ about proper among the lubbers as was a tryin’ to ’old ’im. I shoves meself for’ard, an’ manages ter git with ’im an’ the perliceman, w’en they starts fer Chelmsford. The rest ’e knows.” Here Mr. Skerritt laughed again, in that peculiar fashion of his, and looked more melancholy than ever. “But, Captain,” urged Philip—“you don’t seem to realise what a risk you run, in thus defying the Law, and befriending a man who is an outlaw. My debt to you is greater than I can pay; and I cannot permit you to run any further danger on my account.” “’Old ’ard—’old ’ard, mess-mate,” cried the Captain. “’Osses or no ’osses—circuses or no circuses—I stan’ by a friend. I confess I don’t understan’ the business—an’ I don’t like you a runnin’ under false colours; but you’ve give me yer word as ’ow you’re innocent; an’ I’ll continue for to rescue yer, once a week, if necessary—till further orders. I don’t take no notice of objections or risks; rescue yer I will, agin yer will or with it. An’ now, Phil, as we starts early to-morrer mornin’, I’d advise yer to turn in, an’ git wot sleep yer can. An’ in order that yer may sleep with a easy mind, there’s some one as I’d like yer ter see, afore I battens yer down for the night.” So saying, the worthy Captain opened the door cautiously, and crept down the steps. In a few moments, the door was opened again, by another hand; and a light figure darted in, and fell at Philip’s feet. It was Clara Siggs. He was so astonished and so delighted at this unexpected meeting, that, as he raised her from the floor, and looked into her eyes, he bent his head, and kissed her, quite on an impulse. “My dear girl,” he said—“this is the best part of all—to know that you are safe and well, and in good hands. Tell me—how did you come here?” “Mrs. Quist, with whom I lodged at Chelmsford, gave up her house, and came to join the Captain. She has made up her mind to travel about in future with her husband—to look after him a little, I fancy”—Clara laughed softly as she spoke—“and so I came with her.” “I saw your mother a few hours since,” said Philip, watching the girl intently as he spoke—“and assured her that you were with friends, and well cared for. When will you return to her?” She looked up at him quickly for a moment, with a half reproachful expression on her face. “When you tell me to go,” she said, slowly.