"If you are on your way to the Sailors' Reading-room, I wish to inform you that I have been obliged to lock up for to-night, on account of an urgent errand at the village." Jimmy stared vacantly for a moment at the pale, washed-out countenance of his interlocutor. "I thought I'd tell you," the youth went on in his copy-book style, "so as to save your taking the long walk. I am the librarian of the Reading-room." "Ah, thank you. But I wasn't going to the Reading-room to-night. I am on my way to the village." "Well, there's a large majority of people do go to the Reading-room, first and last," the youth explained with pride. "And some of them are not worthy of its privileges. I am on my way now to prevent what may be a frightful accident to one who has enjoyed the benefits of our work." Jim gazed at the youth. "A frightful accident! Then why in Heaven's name don't you hurry?" The youth exhibited a slightly injured air, but did not hasten. "I was just about to continue on my way," he said, "when it occurred to me that you might be interested to know." "That's good of you. But what is it all about?" "Some time ago, a very profane and impatient gentleman, waiting for money to be telegraphed to him from New York--" "Well, man, go on! Where is he?" "I know nothing about the movements of this ungodly person, but it appears that to-day, for the first time in its history, the quarry up yonder has been robbed. Circumstances lead the manager to suspect that this same gentleman was the perpetrator of the theft, and I am on my way to further the ends of justice." "No need to be so particular about calling him a gentleman. But what is the 'accident' likely to be?" "It is feared that the thief may not be aware of the nature of the article he has stolen, and it is very dangerous." "What on earth is it?" "It is a fairly large-sized stick of dynamite." The youth might have been discussing a fancy dance, so suave and polite was he. Jim interrupted rudely. "Dynamite, is it? Good. If it's old Chatelard, he ought to blow up. Serve him right." "I'm surprised and pained at your words, my dear friend. No soul is utterly--" "Yes, it is. Which way did he go? Where is he?" "I don't know. The manager sent me to inform the sheriff." "It won't do any good. But you'd better go, all the same." The judge in chancery went on his dignified way. He would not have hurried if he had heard Angel Gabriel's trump. The news he had brought was in the class to be considered important if true, but there was nothing in it to alter Jimmy's plans. He took the shortest cut to the shore, found a fiat-bottomed punt that was regarded by the village as general property, and pushed off.