have dropped the book by the way, and that
it was possible that the tinker had found it.
I deliberated a moment whether to walk after
him, and question him about it; but I could
not expect him to tell me the truth if he had.
Besides, what could I have said to the man?
That I had overheard him mention the name
of a book that I expected to be sent to me
from a distance, and that I, therefore,
suspected that he had that very book? A
favourite novel of Smollett's was not so rare
a book that a tinker might not have an old
copy of it. The circumstance was
extraordinary, and had startled me at first; but I
became convinced as I walked on that this
was one of those improbable coincidences, of
which every man may perhaps remember one
or two having happened to himself at some
time.

I had now walked some distance upon the
beat of the second look-out man, and I began
to be surprised at not meeting him; but I
would not give it up now. I looked down
over the sands at times, but I could see
nothing of him there, and the tide was coming
in fast. The path at this spot was along a
raised causeway, flanked with heaps of shingle,
and overgrown with bramble and sloe bushes,
and rank sea reeds. There was scarcely any
danger from the tide at any of those parts.
I looked out for a stile which was the boundary
between the beat of the second man and that of
old Martin; and I began to be alarmed at not
having met the man before. I hallooed once
or twice and got no answer, but a little further
on I mounted a hillock, and saw the stile at
about a hundred yards distance. I thought I
noticed a man beside it, and I shouted to him.

"All right, sir," replied the man; and it
was a relief to me to recognise the boatman's
voice.

"I have been looking for you all along the
beach, Mr. Cole," said I. " I began to think
you were lost."

"Martin was to meet me here at eight. I
have been waiting for him."

"What's the time?"

"A quarter after the hour."

"Is he generally punctual?"

"I have known him as much behind. He's
gone watching or wandering after some Jack-
o'Lantern, you may depend. You'll hear him
in a minute or two."

We waited for some time and listened; but
we could hear nothing but the noise of the water
rushing in, and filling up the spaces between
the crags as each wave came in. I pulled my
watch out, and looking closely at it, saw that
it was half past eight. I began to get anxious.

"Have you seen Martin to-night?" said I.

"I parted with him here at five o'clock."

"Did he say anything about a book he was
to bring me?"

"No, not a word."

"Cole," said I, "I hope to God nothing
has happened to poor old Martin! " and I told
him the incident of the tinker. We decided
to walk on for some distance, and look about
for him. The light was getting stronger as
the moon rose. The boatman kept a look-
out over the heath, while I walked along the
crag path, shouting " Martin! " as I went,
and hallooing now and then. There was a
little cottage on the heath, where we hoped to
get assistance; but we found no one at home
there, except an old woman. She lent us a
horn lantern which was of use for our search.
We were now drawing near Borsted church,
and I remembered, with a shudder, my con-
versation with the old man that very afternoon,
and told the boatman of it. We looked all
about the old wall, and among the gorse
bushes, holding the lantern low; but we
did not find anything there. The boatman
would have gone on, but I called to him to
stop. " We must look in the church-yard,"
said I. " I advised him to look about there, if
he saw the light again."

We both climbed over the wall, and began
to look about among the graves. A moment
after, my companion called to me from a little
distance. " This way, sir, quick. Look here!"
I held down my lantern where he pointed.
Poor old Martin! I had been unintentionally
the cause of his death. He was lying sideways
on the ground, his head bleeding from a
large wound, and looking as if he had been
beaten with a stick or a stone—the moss
beneath soaked with blood. His hands were
quite cold: he must have been dead some time.
Cole drew his cutlass and gave me one of his
pistols, and we walked all about the ruins,
but the murderers had left no trace behind.
They had robbed him of everything—even to
his arms. His pockets were turned inside-
out; his watch, and even an old Spanish gold
coin with a hole in it, which I knew he always
carried about him, were gone. The man
lighted his port-fire, and in ten minutes another
boatman arrived.

"It's some of that infernal gang's doings,"
said Cole, " I always knew they run goods at
this point. It was close here that that
scoundrel Jem Bater set upon the old man
before."

"When did you see Martin last? " I asked
the new comer.

"At six o'clock. I gave him a book from
Captain Bland. It was in a parcel and
addressed to you, sir."

"Cole," said I, "we must not lose a moment.
That tinker had some hand in it."

There was only one beat between this point
and the captain's house; and several other men
arrived shortly after. The body was removed
to the chief station, and one of the new
comers volunteered to watch on Cole's beat,
while we went together in search of the
supposed murderer. I quieted Cole's scruples by
promising to explain all to my uncle, and we
started, walking at a quick pace. We passed
again the spot where I had heard the
conversation, and followed the road, leaving
my uncle's house some distance to the left,