ion to another bag,
which contained nothing but correspondence, and evidently he had found
what he was most earnestly in search of, for he frequently expressed his
delight as he happened across some document which he thrust into his
bosom.

In this way the mail was soon rummaged, and without waiting for the
other two men to finish their search, the goldsmith began to reseal the
bags. First, he took from his pocket the counterfeit matrix which had
cost him so much labour to fashion. Next, he took some string, similar
to that which he had previously cut, and with it he retied the necks of
the bags he had opened. With the help of a lighted match, he covered the
knotted strings, first of one bag and then of another, with melted
sealing-wax, which he impressed with the counterfeit seal.

His companions watched the process with such interest that, forgetting
for a time their search amongst the chattels of other people, they gave
their whole attention to the process of resealing the bags.

"Very 'andy with his fingers, ain't 'e, Macaroni?--even if 'e _is_ a bit
un'andy in a boat." Confederacy in crime had bred a familiarity which
brought the goldsmith down to the level of his co-operators.

All the bags were now sealed up, excepting the one which the fishermen
had last ravaged, and the contents of which lay scattered on the sand.

"This one will be considerably smaller than it useter was," remarked
Tresco, as he replaced the unopened packets in the bag.

"Hi! stoppa!" cried Macaroni, "Rocka Codda an' me wanta finish him."

"And leave me to hand in an empty bag? Most sapient Macaroni, under your
own guidance you would not keep out of gaol a fortnight: Nature did not
equip you for a career in crime."

Tresco deftly sealed up the last bag, and then said, "Chuck all the odds
and ends into the fire, and be careful not to leave a scrap unburned:
then we will drink to our continued success."

The fire blazed up fiercely as the torn packages, envelopes, and letters
were thrown upon its embers. The goldsmith groped about, and examined
the sand for the least vestige of paper which might form a clue to their
crime, but when he was satisfied that everything had been picked up, he
returned to the fire, and watched the bright flames as they leapt
heavenwards.

His comrades were dividing their spoil.

"I think, boss," said Rock Cod, "the best of the catch must ha' fell to
your share: me and my mate don't seem to have mor'n ten po