te innocent. Someone, we'll say, wishes to
cross over from Saaron to St. Lide's this evening--on any simple
errand, say to fetch a parcel from the steamer. Why shouldn't that
someone, knowing the Keg of Butter to be good shelter with plenty of
water at all tides, have landed and left the boat there?"

Mr. Rogers shook his head. "Why there, and not at the pier? The pier
lies almost a mile nearer, and there's a fair wind--or almost a fair
one--for returning; while from the Keg of Butter no one can fetch
Saaron under a couple of tacks. That's my first point. Secondly, if Eli
Tregarthen has honest business here, whether with the steamer to fetch
a parcel (parcels must be running in your head to-night), or in the
town to fetch a doctor, the pier is obviously his landing-place. Why,
there isn't a house in the Island, barring these Barracks, that doesn't
stand half-a-mile nearer the pier; not to mention that landing at the
Keg of Butter involves a perfectly unnecessary climb up one side of
Garrison Hill and down the other. Lastly, my dear sir, look at the
time! Close on eleven o'clock, and all Garland Town in their beds.
Again, I ask what honest business can Eli Tregarthen have here at such
an hour?"

The Commandant felt himself cornered. An insane hope crossed his mind
that, while the Lieutenant sat talking, Vashti had contrived to slip
out of the house and down to the shore. It was followed by a saner one,
that she had done nothing of the sort; for, to a certainty, the boat
would be guarded.

"You have taken precautions?" he asked, and felt himself flushing at
the dishonesty of the question.

"I have posted Beesley in charge, and sent the chief boatman off to the
pier-head to keep a close watch on the steamer. She sails at
seven-thirty to-morrow, and though I never heard a hint against her
skipper, it's only right to be careful. I've amused myself before now,
planning imaginary frauds on the revenue; and if anyone cares to risk
opening up that game afresh, the Islands still give him a-plenty of
openings."

"Yes, yes," agreed the Commandant, and checked a groan. He had thought
of warning Vashti to slip down to the quay and borrow a boat there
without asking leave. Some explanation might be trumped up on the
morrow--as that the wind was foul for returning from the Keg of Butter.
No one would accuse Eli Tregarthen of borrowing a boat with intent to
steal: his taking it would be no more than a neighbourly liberty.

But,