This extraordinary speech was delivered at such a rapid rate, and in so hoarse a whisper that Madge had no time to interpose a word, or to check the flow of words. Moreover, on looking at the face of the speaker, whatever indignation she might have been disposed to feel melted away; for it was a good kind honest face—ruddy with much exposure to wind and weather, and fringed with a luxuriant growth of tangled hair. “My lass—I’m a married man—(an’ well I knows it, w’en Mrs. Quist ain’t got ’er temper ironed out straight!)—and there ain’t no ’arm in me. But there’s a few craft of a queer rig in these waters—and you’ll do well not to stay in ’em.” Madge made up her mind at once to trust him; explained briefly that she knew nothing of the neighbourhood, and had merely come there to keep an appointment. And then, without more ado, she suddenly turned round—made a frantic effort to stand upright—and dropped into the man’s arms. The scenes through which she had passed so recently had utterly unnerved her, and Miss Madge Barnshaw was lying in a dead faint in the arms of Captain Peter Quist. The Captain’s first thought was to shout for help; his next, to carry the girl to some place where he could procure something which would revive her. Glancing about him eagerly, he caught sight of the lighted windows of The Three Watermen; and, without a moment’s delay, half carried and half supported her through the door, and into the little private bar. Only one person happened to be in that bar at the time—a little man, seated in a corner, half asleep, with a glass of spirits beside him. The Captain, entering hurriedly with his burden, looked round, and cried out—“Give me some brandy—quick! an’ tell me w’ere I can find a doctor.” At the mention of that last word, the little man in the corner staggered to his feet; swayed uneasily for a moment; and then came towards the Captain, with what dignity he could muster on such short notice. But his eyes no sooner fell upon the Captain, and then upon the girl, than he uttered a sort of cry—spun completely round like an unsteady top—and made for the door. But the Captain had recognised him, too; and caught him just as he was slipping out. “’Ere ’old ’ard, mess-mate—’old ’ard,” exclaimed the Captain, who had deposited his burden on a bench and was able to give, for the moment, his undivided attention to his captive. “You’re a man as I wants to see, in ’arf a shake, so soon as I’ve attended to this ’ere young lady. An’ per’aps, as there don’t seem to be nobody else ’andy—p’raps you can tell me w’ere I’ll find a doctor?” The little man—no other than Dr. Cripps—was cowed by the superior size and strength of the Captain and capitulated. “I—I am a doctor,” he said, giving himself a sort of shake, probably with the object of pulling himself together—and bending over Madge, who had begun to open her eyes, and to look about her. “Ah—nothing more than a temporary faintness, as I imagined.”