and led the way downstairs, and through
some very rickety back premises to the quay door, where his boat lay
moored to a frape. As I climbed down and cast off, Mr. Dewy pulled out
his watch again.

"The evenings are lengthening, and you will have plenty of time.
Half an hour to high water; you will have the tide with you each way.
The keys will open everything on board. By the way, you can't miss
her--black, with a tarnished gilt line, moored beside a large white
schooner, just three-quarters of a mile up. You can tie up the boat to
the frape on your return; to-morrow will do for the keys; at your
service any time after nine a.m. Good evening, sir!"

Mr. Dewy turned and hurried back to his client, whose presence during
our interview he had completely ignored.

The sun had dropped behind the tall hills that line the western shore of
the beautiful F-- River; but a soft yellow light, too generously spread
to dazzle, suffused the whole sky, and was reflected on the tide that
stole up with scarcely a ripple. A sharp bend of the stream brought me
in sight of the two yachts, not fifty yards away--their inverted
reflections motionless as themselves; I rested on my oars and drifted up
towards them, conning the black yawl carefully.

She struck me as too big for a 35-tonner, fore-shortened though she
lay--a wall-sided narrow boat, but a very pretty specimen of her type.
Her dismantled masts were painted white, and her upper boards had been
removed, of course.

Hullo!

There was a man standing on her deck.

She lay with her nose pointing up the river and her stern towards me.
The man stood by her wheel (for some idiotic reason, best known to
himself, her builder had given her a wheel instead of a tiller), which
was covered up with tarpaulin. He stood with a hand on this tarpaulin
case, and looked back over his shoulder towards me--a tall fellow with a
reddish beard and a clean-shaven upper lip. I was drifting close by
this time--he looking curiously at me--and I must have been studying his
features for half a minute before I hailed him.

"Yacht ahoy!" I called out. "Is that the _Siren?_"

Getting no answer, I pulled the boat close under the yacht's side, made
her fast, and climbed on board by way of the channels.

"This is the _Siren_, eh?" I said, looking down her deck towards the
wheel.

There was no man to be seen.

I stared around for a minute or so; ran to the opposite side and looked
over; ran aft and