e arrested his
attention; he reined in his horse behind a clump of bushes and
watched.

"So ho! Mrs. Potter, your careful husband could not leave the island?"
muttered he, as he marked the unmistakable squat figure of the one, a
man carrying a burden upon his shoulder, whilst, enveloping the woman
who walked briskly by his side, flared the brilliant-hued shawl of
Moggie. "That lie alone would have been sufficient to arouse
suspicion. Hallo, what is the damned _crapaud_ up to?"

The question was suggested by the man's movements, as, after returning
the parcel to his consort at the beginning of the now bare causeway,
he turned tail, while she trudged forward alone.

"The Shearman's house! I thought as much. Out he comes again, and not
by himself. I have made acquaintance with those small bare legs
before. I should have been astonished indeed if none of the Shearman
fellows had been mixed up with the affair. I shall be even yet with
those creditable friends of yours, brother Adrian. So, it's you again,
Johnny, my lad; the pretty Mercury.... Can it be possible that Captain
Smith is at his old games once more?"

Mr. Landale's eyes shone with a curious eager light; he laughed a
little mirthless laugh, which was neither pleasant to hear nor to
give. "Dear me," he said aloud, as he watched the pair tramp together
towards Scarthey, "for plotters in the dark, you are particularly easy
to detect, my good friends!"

Then he checked himself, realising what a mere chance it had been,
after all--a fortuitous meeting in the passage--that had first aroused
his suspicions, and placed between his fingers the end of the thread
he now thought it so simple to follow up. But he did hold the thread,
and depended no longer upon chance or guess-work, but on his own
relentless purpose to lay the plotters by the heels, whatever their
plot might be.

In the course of an hour and a half, Johnny Shearman, whistling,
light-hearted, and alone, was nearing his native house once more, when
the sight of a horseman, rapidly advancing across the sands, brought
him to a standstill, to stare with a boy's curiosity. Presently,
however, recognising Mr. Landale--a person for whom he had more dread
than admiration--he was starting off homeward again at a brisk canter,
when a stern hail from the rider arrested him.

"Johnny!" The boy debated a moment, measured the distance between the
cottage and himself, and shrewdly recognised the advisability of
obeyi