ment cover, rubbed it off, and
by such manipulation gave it a certain mellow look, as if it had been
used by working hands.

Wylie was armed with these materials, and furnished with money to keep
his sailors to their tale, in case of their being examined.

Arthur begged, in his present affliction, to be excused from going
personally into the matter of the _Proserpine;_ and said that Penfold had
the ship's log, and the declaration of the survivors, which the insurers
could inspect, previously to their being deposited at Lloyd's.

The whole thing wore an excellent face, and nobody found a peg to hang
suspicion on so far.

After this preliminary, and the deposit of the papers, nothing was
hurried; the merchant, absorbed in his grief, seemed to be forgetting to
ask for his money. Wylie remonstrated; but Arthur convinced him they were
still on too ticklish ground to show any hurry without exciting
suspicion.

And so passed two weary months, during which Wylie fell out of Nancy
Rouse's good graces, for idling about doing nothing.

"Be you a waiting for the plum to fall into your mouth, young man?" said
she.

The demand was made on the underwriters, and Arthur contrived that it
should come from his father. The firm was of excellent repute and had
paid hundreds of insurances, without a loss to the underwriters. The
_Proserpine_ had foundered at sea; several lives had been lost, and of
the survivors one had since died, owing to the hardships he had endured.
All this betokened a genuine calamity. Nevertheless, one ray of suspicion
rested on the case at first. The captain of the _Proserpine_ had lost a
great many ships; and, on the first announcement, one or two were
resolved to sift the matter on that ground alone. But when five
eye-witnesses, suppressing all mention of the word "drink," declared that
Captain Hudson had refused to leave the vessel, and described his going
down with the ship, from an obstinate and too exalted sense of duty,
every chink was closed; and, to cut the matter short, the insurance money
was paid to the last shilling, and Benson, one of the small underwriters,
ruined. Nancy Rouse, who worked for Mrs. Benson, lost eighteen shillings
and sixpence, and was dreadfully put out about it.

Wylie heard her lamentations, and grinned; for now his 2,000 pounds was
as good as in his pocket, he thought. Great was his consternation when
Arthur told him that every shilling of the money was forestalled, and
tha