s laughed and talked, or played upon the guitar and sang. And
oftentimes so it was strongly upon Barnaby's mind to speak to the good
gentleman and tell him what he had beheld that night out in the harbor;
but always he would think better of it and hold his peace, falling to
thinking, and smoking away upon his cigarro at a great rate.

A day or two before the Belle Helen sailed from Kingston Mr. Greenfield
stopped Barnaby True as he was going through the office to bid him to
come to dinner that night (for there within the tropics they breakfast
at eleven o'clock and take dinner in the cool of the evening, because of
the heat, and not at midday, as we do in more temperate latitudes). "I
would have you meet," says Mr. Greenfield, "your chief passenger for
New York, and his granddaughter, for whom the state cabin and the two
staterooms are to be fitted as here ordered [showing a letter]--Sir John
Malyoe and Miss Marjorie Malyoe. Did you ever hear tell of Capt. Jack
Malyoe, Master Barnaby?"

Now I do believe that Mr. Greenfield had no notion at all that old
Captain Brand was Barnaby True's own grandfather and Capt. John Malyoe
his murderer, but when he so thrust at him the name of that man, what
with that in itself and the late adventure through which he himself had
just passed, and with his brooding upon it until it was so prodigiously
big in his mind, it was like hitting him a blow to so fling the
questions at him. Nevertheless, he was able to reply, with a pretty
straight face, that he had heard of Captain Malyoe and who he was.

"Well," says Mr. Greenfield, "if Jack Malyoe was a desperate pirate and
a wild, reckless blade twenty years ago, why, he is Sir John Malyoe now
and the owner of a fine estate in Devonshire. Well, Master Barnaby, when
one is a baronet and come into the inheritance of a fine estate (though
I do hear it is vastly cumbered with debts), the world will wink its eye
to much that he may have done twenty years ago. I do hear say, though,
that his own kin still turn the cold shoulder to him."

To this address Barnaby answered nothing, but sat smoking away at his
cigarro at a great rate.

And so that night Barnaby True came face to face for the first time with
the man who murdered his own grandfather--the greatest beast of a man
that ever he met in all of his life.

That time in the harbor he had seen Sir John Malyoe at a distance and
in the darkness; now that he beheld him near by it seemed to him tha