door, and we'll soon have him out of
there. He's come a long way, and it's all for the pleasure of seeing
you--of course it is." The talk pleased her, but giving her no time to
think about it, I went on:

"Mister Czerny, now, he would be living by here, I suppose?"

She said, "Yes, yes." His rooms were through the great hall which lay
beyond the doors; but she looked so startled at the idea of my going
there, and she listened so plainly for the sound of any voices, that I
read up her apprehensions at a glance and saw that she did not wish me
to go on because she was afraid.

"Where is your old friend, the Frenchman?" I asked her on an impulse;
"what part of this queer house does he sling his hammock in?"

She changed colour at this, and plainly showed her trouble.

"Oh, Mister Begg," says she, "Clair-de-Lune has been punished for
helping you on Ken's Island. He is not allowed to leave his room now.
Mister Czerny is very angry, and will not see him. How can you think of
coming here--oh, how can you do it?"

"It's easy enough," said I, lightly, "if you don't miss the turning and
go straight on. Never fear for me, young lady; I shall pull through all
right; and when I do your friend goes with me, be sure of it. I won't
forget old Clair-de-Lune, not I! Now, just show me the road to the
governor's door, and then run away and tell Dolly Venn. He'll be
precious glad to see you, as true as Scripture."

Well, she stood for a little while, hesitating about it, and then she
said, as though she had just remembered it:

"Benno Regnarte is the guard, but he has gone away to have his supper.
I borrowed the key and came through. If you go in, he will not question
you. The governor may be on his yacht, or he may be in his room. I do
not know. How foolish it all is--how foolish, Captain Begg! They may
never let you go away again!"

"Being so fond of my company," cried I, gaily. "Well, we'll see about
it, my dear. Just you run off to Dolly Venn and leave me to do the
rest. Sailors get out where other people stick, you know. We'll have a
try, for the luck's sake."

I held her little hand in mine for a minute and gave it a hearty
squeeze. She was the picture of prettiness in a print gown and a big
Spanish shawl wrapped about her baby face. That she was truly alarmed,
and rightly so, I knew well; but what could I do? It was Czerny or the
pit. I chose Czerny.

Now, she had opened the iron door for me to pass by, and without
ano