nd left the office.

That morning he had been hoping for a change. This afternoon he was
getting it with a vengeance.

It was desirable from every standpoint that the new place should be as
near to the old one as possible. This consideration limited his choice
to two buildings which he knew were vacant, and toward these he bent
his steps.

The first place he visited had just been rented, but at the second he
had better luck. He returned about four o'clock and burst into the
store, flushed and jubilant.

"I've found it," he announced, going into the private office. "Just
what the doctor ordered. Plenty of room, a better pair of show windows
than we have here, and a long-time lease for a rent that's only a
trifle more than we're paying now."

Tyke looked up with the first sign of animation he had shown since
Blake's visit.

"Where is it?" he asked.

"Just on the next block," answered Drew. "Turner's old place."

"We'll go right over now an' look at it," said Tyke, rising and putting
on his hat.

After inspecting the three floors thoroughly, Grimshaw agreed with his
young manager that they were in luck to get the building. A visit to
the agent followed, and before they left his office Tyke had handed
over a check for the first month's rent and had a five-year lease in
his pocket.

"A good piece of work, Allen, my boy," he said, as they parted outside
the shop that night. "I don't know what I'd do without you. But I'm
mighty sorry to have to leave the old place. No other will ever seem
exactly like it."

"Poor old Tyke," mused Drew, as he looked after the retreating figure
that suddenly seemed older than he had ever seen it. "He's hard hit."

In all the stir and bustle of that crowded afternoon, Drew had been
conscious of a glow at his heart that was not due to mere business
excitement. One name had been upon his lips, one thought had sought to
monopolize him. And now that business was over for the day, he yielded
utterly to the obsession of that meeting on the wharf.

Instead of striding uptown as usual, he turned in the other direction
and went down to the Jones Lane pier, now for the most part deserted
and quiet in the waning light. Here and there a watchman sat on a bale
smoking his pipe, while occasionally a sailor lay a more or less
unsteady course for his ship.

Drew made his way to where the _Normandy_ was moored, and asked for
Captain Peters.

"Gone ashore, sir," said the man he a