said Captain Gething at last.

"We only stopped you by a miracle," said Annis hysterically. "The
_Seamew_ is alongside, and why you wanted to run away again I don't
know."

"I don't understand," said Captain Gething wearily.

"You can understand that _I_ wouldn't take you into danger," said Annis
tenderly. "Put your coat on and come with me."

Without another word Captain Gething did as he was bid. He stopped, as
though to speak to Tillotson, and then thinking better of it, followed
his daughter on deck.

"I'm not coming with you, cap'n," he said as that ardent mariner passed
them rolling a barrel along the deck.

"A' right," said the other briefly; "you won't get your money back."

In a shamefaced fashion Captain Gething, still holding his daughter's
arm, stepped on board the _Seamew_ and shook hands with its master. By
the time he was half through his story there was a burning desire on the
part of the skipper to go down and have a look at Tillotson--a desire
peremptorily checked by Annis, who had an erroneous opinion concerning
that gentleman's identity, and the _Frolic_ having taken in its
herrings, sheered off with a friendly good-night. The crew of the
_Seamew_ watched her until she had her anchor up, and then, at the
impatient suggestion of Henry, who was stage managing, went below.

"Are you satisfied now?" inquired Wilson in a low voice, as Captain
Gething, with a wisdom born of years, went slowly below.

"Quite," breathed Annis softly.

"I'm not," said Wilson, in tones full of meaning.

Miss Gething smiled, and leaning against the side surveyed, with some
interest, the dark water and the sleeping town. She did not move
when Wilson came and stood by her, and when he took her hand, made no
protest.

"I'm not satisfied--yet," said Wilson, raising her hand to his lips.

His eye caught the two lanterns which were burning somewhat garishly,
and crossing over, he took them down and blew them out. He turned
suddenly at the sound of a smothered laugh, a moment too late. Annis
Gething had gone below.

THE BROWN MAN'S SERVANT.

CHAPTER I.

The shop of Solomon Hyams stood in a small thoroughfare branching off
the Commercial Road. In its windows unredeemed pledges of all kinds,
from old-time watches to seamen's boots, appealed to all tastes and
requirements. Bundles of cigars, candidly described as "wonderful,"
were marked at absurdly low figures, while silver watches endeavored to
e