e getting; and that, if the remark
wouldn't be taken amiss, it was all very well to talk of sand-eels when
you were in a position to employ a couple of men to spend half a day in
netting them for you; but that for a young chap in his position,
sand-eels were out of the question.

"There's the bank-hours, to begin with," he wound up, lucidly; "and,
besides, when you've caught 'em they're the most perishable bait
going."

The Commandant incoherently promised to reserve a portion of his next
catch, and to send Archelaus with a creelful; all this with his eyes
wandering in desperation to the glass door. The young man was profuse
in thanks.

"You will excuse my discussing sport with you, sir? Sport, they say,
puts all men on a level--though, of course, I should not dream of
claiming----"

But at this point the glass door opened, and Mr. Fossell emerged,
briskly, holding what appeared to be a fair-sized stone.

"How will you take it?" he asked, depositing this upon the counter.

"I beg your pardon?" the Commandant stammered, his eyes riveted on the
stone.

"Notes or gold?" Mr. Fossel picked the specimen up, and rubbed it
gently with his sleeve. "Now, that's a queer thing, eh? My
brother-in-law sent it to me last week, and I've been using it for a
paper-weight, not being a scientific man. But just you look into it. He
tells me there are hundreds lying about where he lives--Ogwell, the
place is, in Devonshire, just behind Newton Abbot--and that they're
called madrepores. He's a humorous fellow, too, is my brother-in-law.
You see the joke, of course?"

"I can't say that I do, exactly," the Commandant confessed.

"Good gracious! Fossil--Fossell: this is a fossil, you see, and I'm
called Fossell: and so he sends it to me. He has made a good deal of
fun out of my name before now, in his humorous way. Not that I mind, of
course."

"I dare say not. Did you say that the papers were all right?"

"The papers?... Yes, of course, the papers are all right. Will you take
it in notes or gold?" "In gold, if you please." The Commandant caught
at the edge of the counter, while his heart leapt, and the bank
premises seemed to whirl around him.

"Fifteen-eighteen-six ... be so good as to verify it, if you please,"
said Mr. Fossell, counting out the coins--the blessed coins! "But I
want you just to take a look into the thing. Looks like a piece of
coral, eh? See the delicate lines of it? And my brother-in-law tells me
it was once