“Don’t tell lies!” ejaculated the other. “I can tell you this: you won’t get any good out of me. I’m only a poor old man, who’s been unfortunate, and has fallen on evil days. If you think you’ll make anything out of me, you’re much mistaken. What do you want with me?” The Captain looked at him in amazement; the little man’s terror appeared so strong. “W’y—wot do you take me for?” he asked. “Oh—I know what you are,” cried the little man, wagging his head. “You’re a split—a detective—a policeman. I know what you are.” The Captain stood up in the boat, and put himself in a fighting attitude. “Say that again—and I’ll knock you out of the boat!” he shouted. “I’d ’ave yer know that I’m a decent sailor-man—an’ a captain at that. ’Oo are you a callin’ a policeman?” “The Shady ’un said so,” replied the little man, tremulously. “That Shady gent said a good many things as ’e’ll ’ave to answer for,” said the Captain, sitting down again. “W’y, if I’d wanted to run yer in, I reckon I could ’ave picked yer up under my arm, an’ done it easy, without ’irin’ a boat for it——’Ullo—wot’s that?” The boat, travelling slowly, had struck something—struck it softly, but sufficiently to send a slight quiver through its timbers. The Captain, backing water at once, peered over the side; dipped an oar deep, and swung the boat’s head round with a sturdy pull; leaned over, and caught at something bobbing near the surface of the water. His carelessness had gone in a moment; he was the quick, masterful man, used to a boat, and used to matters of life and death. “Sit tight there,” he commanded. “’Ere—ketch this oar; that’s it—keep her steady. There’s a body ’ere!” The mention of that seemed to stir something in the little man; he became all attention, in a moment, and watched the other’s movements with alert eyes. “Can’t get ’im into the boat,” said the Captain, in a low voice. “’E’s dead—bin dead days, I should think. Throw me that line there.” The little man obeying promptly, the Captain, leaning over the edge of the boat, made the line fast to that grim thing bobbing alongside; and then turned the boat’s head for the shore, and pulled hard. The little man in the stern was so interested in that grisly passenger, that he must needs go to the very end of the boat, at the imminent risk of losing his silk hat—and peer at the thing as it came along behind, making a wake in the water as it swept through it. They happened, by this time, to be quite clear of the town, and to have come to a spot where the bank was low and flat, and where it was easy to run the boat ashore. This the Captain did, and together they leapt out—hauled the boat up—and afterwards hauled in the body.