esota. Hence, it was not until the _Belle
Julie_ was edging her way up to the stone-paved levee that Charlotte
broke her self-imposed rule and slipped out upon the port promenade.

The swing-stage was poised in the air ready to be lowered, and two of
the deck-hands were dropping from the shore end to trail the bow line up
the paved slope to the nearest mooring-ring. There was an electric
arc-light opposite the steamer's berth, and Charlotte shaded her eyes
with her hands to follow the motions of the two bent figures under the
dripping hawser.

One of the men was wearing a cap, and there was a small bundle hanging
at his belt. She recognized him at once. At the mooring-ring he was the
one who stooped to make the line fast, and the other, a negro, stood
aside. At that moment the landing-stage fell, and in the confusion of
debarkation which promptly followed, the thrilling bit of by-play at the
mooring-ring passed unnoted by all save the silent watcher on the
saloon-deck.

While the man in the cap was still on his knees, two men stole from the
shadow of the nearest freight pyramid and flung themselves upon him. He
fought fiercely for a moment, and though he was more than doubly
outweighted, rose to his feet, striking out viciously and dragging his
assailants up with him. In the struggle the bundle dropped from his
belt, and Charlotte saw him kick it aside. The waiting negro caught it
deftly and vanished among the freight pyramids; whereupon one of the
attacking pair wrenched himself out of the three-man scuffle and darted
away in pursuit.

This left but a single antagonist for the fugitive, and Charlotte's
sympathies deserted her convictions for the moment. But while she was
biting her lip to keep from crying out, the fugitive stepped back and
held out his hands; and she saw the gleam of polished metal reflecting
the glare of the arc-light when the officer snapped the handcuffs upon
his wrists.

It was with a distinct sense of culpability oppressing her that she went
back to her aunt, and she was careful not to let the invalid see her
face. Fortunately, there was a thing to be done, and the transfer to the
other steamer came opportunely to help her to re-establish the balance
of things distorted.

She was sorry, but, after all, the man had only himself to blame. None
the less, the wish that some one else might have been his betrayer was
promising to grow later into remorseful and lasting regret when, with
her aunt,