ts; or some of that
fiery _vin_--something he had once indulged in with a Johnny Frenchman
before he took to the tunnel, when he had been free to swagger through
old Leicester Square. Anyhow, he would soon find out, and, rushing
through the water, he laid a proprietary hand on the box. But to his
disappointment, he could not move it; strong though he was, its great
weight defied him. Ingenuity came to his aid, for, after a moment's
pondering, he left the box to the sea and made his way back to the
forest. When he returned he bore on his shoulder a straight, stout limb
which he had wrenched from a tree, and in his hand he carried a great
stone. The former became a lever, the latter, a fulcrum; and, by patient
exercise of one of the simple principles of physics, he managed, at
length, to transfer the large box from ocean to land.

To break it open was his next problem, and no easy one, for the boards
were thick, the nails many and formidable. A long time he battered and
battered in vain with his rocks, but, after an hour or so, he succeeded
in splintering his way through the tough pine. His exertions did not end
here; an inner sheeting of tin caused him to frown; more furiously he
attacked this with sharp bits of coral, cutting and bruising his hands.
Unmindful of pain, he was enabled at length to pull back a portion of
the protecting metal and reveal the contents of the packing-case. In his
befuddled, half-crazed condition, he had thought only of bottles; what
he found proved a different sort of merchandise.

Maddened, he tossed and scattered the contents of the box on the beach.
The ocean had deceived him, laughed at him, cheated him. He turned from
the shore unsteadily, walked back to his camp and knocked the neck from
one of the two remaining bottles. A few hours later, sodden, sottish, he
lay without motion, face to the sky. And as he breathed thickly, one
bleeding hand still holding the empty bottle, a bird from an overhanging
branch looked down upon him: a tiny bird, little bigger than his thumb,
that carried a bright, beautiful spot of red on its breast, cocked its
head questioningly.

* * * * *

PART TWO

CHAPTER I

THE WHEELS OF JUSTICE

London, in the spring! Sunshine; the Thames agleam with silver ripples,
singing as it flows; red sails! Joyous London that has emerged from fogs
and basks beneath blue skies! Thoroughfares that give forth a glad hum;
wheels singing