ed--and no tailor who
ever carried his goose through the Exile's Gate would have fashioned
his expensive garments. But the old gentleman made no pretence that he
could "hear the East a-callin'." He swore impartially at the climate,
the place, and its inhabitants. At this instant he was in a state of
wild excitement. He was very tall, very stout, exceedingly red-faced.
Any budding medico who understood the pre-eminence enjoyed by _aq.
ad_ in a prescription, would have diagnosed him as a first-rate
subject for apoplexy.

Producing a tremendous telescope, he vainly endeavored to balance it on
the shoulder of a native servant.

"Can't you stand still, you blithering idiot!" he shouted, after futile
attempts to focus the advancing boat, "or shall I steady you by a clout
over the ear?"

His companion, the army man, was looking through a pair of
field-glasses.

"By Jove!" he cried, "I can see Sir Arthur Deane, and a girl who looks
like his daughter. There's that infernal scamp, Ventnor, too."

The big man brushed the servant out of his way, and brandished the
telescope as though it were a bludgeon.

"The dirty beggar! He drove my lad to misery and death, yet he has come
back safe and sound. Wait till I meet him. I'll--"

"Now, Anstruther! Remember your promise. I will deal with Lord Ventnor.
My vengeance has first claim. What! By the jumping Moses, I do
believe--Yes. It is. Anstruther! Your nephew is sitting next to the
girl!"

The telescope fell on the stones with a crash. The giant's rubicund
face suddenly blanched. He leaned on his friend for support.

"You are not mistaken," he almost whimpered. "Look again, for God's
sake, man. Make sure before you speak. Tell me! Tell me!"

"Calm yourself, Anstruther. It is Robert, as sure as I'm alive. Don't
you think I know him, my poor disgraced friend, whom I, like all the
rest, cast off in his hour of trouble? But I had some excuse. There!
There! I didn't mean that, old fellow. Robert himself will be the last
man to blame either of us. Who could have suspected that two
people--one of them, God help me! my wife--would concoct such a hellish
plot!"

The boat glided gracefully alongside the steps of the quay, and Playdon
sprang ashore to help Iris to alight. What happened immediately
afterwards can best be told in his own words, as he retailed the story
to an appreciative audience in the ward-room.

"We had just landed," he said, "and some of the crew were pushing the