rs and
the twinkle of brass and gun-metal, proclaimed her to be a yacht. I
had already studied her through the glasses and read on her stern
'Medusa'. A couple of sailors were swabbing her decks; you could hear
the slush of the water and the scratching of the deck-brooms. '_They_
can see us anyway,' Davies had said.

For that matter all the world could see us--certainly the incoming
steamer must; for we lay as near to the pier as safety permitted,
abreast of the berth she would occupy, as we knew by a gangway and a
knot of sailors.

A packet boat, not bigger than a big tug, was approaching from the
south.

'Remember, we're not supposed to know he's coming,' I said; 'let's go
below.' Besides the skylight, our 'coach-house' cabin top had little
oblong side windows. We wiped clean those on the port side and
watched events from them, kneeling on the sofa.

The steamer backed her paddles, flinging out a wash that set us
rolling to our scuppers. There seemed to be very few passengers
aboard, but all of them were gazing at the 'Dulcibella' while the
packet was warped alongside. On the forward deck there were some
market-women with baskets, a postman, and a weedy youth who might be
an hotel waiter; on the after-deck, standing close together, were two
men in ulsters and soft felt hats.

'There he is!' said Davies, in a tense whisper; 'the tall one.' But
the tall one turned abruptly as Davies spoke and strode away behind
the deck-house, leaving me just a lightning impression of a grey
beard and a steep tanned forehead, behind a cloud of cigar smoke. It
was perverse of me, but, to tell the truth, I hardly missed him, so
occupied was I by the short one, who remained leaning on the rail,
thoughtfully contemplating the 'Dulcibella' through gold-rimmed
pince-nez: a sallow, wizened old fellow, beetlebrowed, with a bush of
grizzled moustache and a jet-black tuft of beard on his chin. The
most remarkable feature was the nose, which was broad and flat,
merging almost imperceptibly in the wrinkled cheeks. Lightly beaked
at the nether extremity, it drooped towards an enormous cigar which
was pointing at us like a gun just discharged. He looked wise as
Satan, and you would say he was smiling inwardly.

'Who's that?' I whispered to Davies. (There was no need to talk in
whispers, but we did so instinctively.)

'Can't think,' said Davies. 'Hullo! she's backing off, and they've
not landed.'

Some parcels and mail-bags had been thrown