be roamed again, and again said, "This desk,
belonging to this House of Dringworth Brothers,
America-square, London City——"

Mr. Pettifer, still strangely moved and now
more moved than before, cut the captain off as
he backed across the room, aud bespake him
thus:

"Captain Jorgan, I have been wishful to
engage your attention, but I couldn't do it. I am
unwilling to interrupt, Captain Jorgan, but I
must do it. I know something about that House."

The captain stood stock-still, and looked at
him—with his (Mr. Pettifer's) hat under his arm.

"You're aware," pursued his steward, "that
I was once in the broking business, Captain
Jorgan?"

"I was aware," said the captain, "that you
had failed in that calling and in half the
businesses going, Tom."

"Not quite so, Captain Jorgan; but I failed
in the broking business. I was partners with
my brother, sir. There was a sale of old office
furniture at Dringworth Brothers when the
House was moved from America-square, and me
and my brother made what we call in the trade a
Deal there, sir. And I'll make bold to say, sir,
that the only thing I ever had from my brother,
or from any relation—for my relations have
mostly taken property from me, instead of giving
me any—was an old desk we bought at that
same sale, with a crack in it. My brother
wouldn't have given me even that, when we
broke partnership, if it had been worth anything."

"Where is that desk now?" said the captain.

"Well, Captain Jorgan," replied the steward,
"I couldn't say for certain where it is now;
but when I saw it last—which was last time we
were outward-bound—it was at a very nice lady's
at Wapping, along with a little chest of mine
which was detained for a small matter of a bill
owing."

The captain, instead of paying that rapt
attention to his steward which was rendered by
the other three persons present, went to Church
again, in respect of the steward's hat. And a
most especially agitated and memorable face the
captain produced from it, after a short pause.

"Now, Tom," said the captain, "I spoke to
you, when we first came here, respecting your
constitutional weakness on the subject of
sunstroke?"

"You did, sir."

"Will my slow friend," said the captain,
"lend me his arm, or I shall sink right back'ards
into this blessed steward's cookery?—Now,
Tom," pursued the captain, when the required
assistance was given, "on your oath as a steward,
didn't you take that desk to pieces to make a
better one of it, and put it together fresh—or
something of the kind?"

"On my oath I did, sir," replied the steward.

"And by the blessing of Heaven, my friends,
one and all," cried the captain, radiant with joy
—"of the Heaven that put it into this Tom
Pettifer's head to take so much care of his head
against the bright sun—he lined his hat with the
original leaf in Tregarthen's writing—and here
it is!"

With that, the captain, to the utter destruction
of Mr. Pettifer's favourite hat, produced the
book-leaf, very much worn, but still legible, and
gave both his legs such tremendous slaps, that
they were heard far off in the bay, and never
accounted for.

"A quarter-past five P.M.," said the captain,
pulling out his watch, "and that's thirty-three
hours and a quarter in all, and a pritty run!"

How they were all overpowered with delight
and triumph; how the money was restored, then
and there to Tregarthen; how Tregarthen, then
and there, gave it all to his daughter; how the
captain undertook to go to Dringworth Brothers
and re-establish the reputation of their forgotten
old clerk; how Kitty came in, and was nearly
torn to pieces, and the marriage was reappointed;
needs not to be told. Nor, how she and the young
fisherman went home to the post-office to prepare
the way for the captain's coming, by declaring
him to be the mightiest of men who had made
all their fortunes—and then dutifully withdrew
together, in order that he might have the
domestic coast entirely to himself. How he
availed himself of it, is all that remains to tell.

Deeply delighted with his trust, and putting
his heart into it, he raised the latch of the post-
office parlour where Mrs. Raybrock and the
young widow sat, and said:

"May I come in?"

"Sure you may, Captain Jorgan!" replied
the old lady. "And good reason you have to
be free of the house, though you have not been
too well used in it, by some who ought to have
known better. I ask your pardon."

"No you don't, ma'am," said the captain,
"for I won't let you. Wa'al to be sure! By
this time he had taken a chair on the hearth
between them. "Never felt such an evil spirit in
the whole course of my life! There! I tell you!
I could a'most have cut my own connexion—Like
the dealer in my country, away West, who when
he had let himself be outdone in a bargain, said to
himself, 'Now I tell you what! I'll never speak
to you again.' And he never did, but joined a
settlement of oysters, and translated the
multiplication-table into their language. Which is
a fact that can be proved, if you doubt it,
mention it to any oyster you come across, and
see if he'll have the face to contradict it."

He took the child from her mother's lap, and
set it on his knee.

"Not a bit afraid of me now, yon see. Knows
I am fond of small people. I have a child, and
she's a girl, and I sing to her sometimes."

"What do you sing?" asked Margaret.

"Not a long song, my dear.
                   Silas Jorgan
                   Played the organ.
That's about all. And sometimes I tell her
stories. Stories of sailors supposed to be lost, and
recovered after all hope was abandoned." Here
the captain musingly went back to his song:
                 "Silas Jorgan
                 Played the organ,"