seems thrown away on
other folks, that's _your_ business. If you don't like the bargain, you
can both go and sit in the boat."

Neither man moved. It was evident that Crookenden had chosen his tools
circumspectly.

"Very good," said Tresco, "you have the run of your fingers over this
mail when I have re-sorted it, provided you keep your heads shut when
you get back to town. Is it a bargain?"

He held out his hand.

Rock Cod was the first to take it. He said:--

"It's a bargain, boss."

Macaroni followed suit. "Alla right," he said. "I reef in alonga you an'
Rocka Codda. I no spik."

So the compact was made.

Seizing the nearest bag, Tresco cut its fastenings, and emptied its
contents on the sand.

"Now, as I pass them over to you," said he, seating himself beside the
heap of letters, "you can open such as you think were meant for you, but
got misdirected by mistake to persons of no account. But burn 'em
afterwards."

He put a match to the driftwood collected by the Italian. "Those that
don't interest you, gentlemen, be good enough to put back into the bag."

His hands were quick, his eyes were quicker. He knew well what
to look for. As he glanced at the letters, he threw them over to his
accomplices, till in a short time there was in front of them a bigger
pile of correspondence than had been delivered to them previously in the
course of their conjoint lives.

The goldsmith seldom opened a letter, and then only when he was in doubt
as to whether or not it was posted by the Jewish merchant. The fishermen
opened at random the missives in front of them, in the hope of finding
they knew not what, but always in disappointment and disgust.

At length, however, the Italian gave a cry of joy. "I have heem. Whata
zat, Rocka Codda?" He held a bank-note before his mate's eyes. "Zat five
pound, my boy. Soon I get some more, eh? Alla right."

Tresco put a letter into the breast-pocket of his coat. It's envelope
bore on its back the printed legend, "Joseph Varnhagen, General
Merchant, Timber Town."

So the ransacking of the outgoing mail went forward. Now another bag was
opened, but, as it contained nothing else but newspapers and small
packages, the goldsmith desired to leave it intact. But not so his
accomplices. They therein saw the chief source of their payment.
Insisting on their right under the bargain, the sand in front of them
was soon strewn with litter.

Tresco, in the meantime, had directed his attent