uld judge it might be fairly doubtful," was the reply
of the man he was speaking with. It was the man who had "Elinor"
and "Bessie" tattooed on his arm. They were not legible now, as a
couple of life-belts, or hencoops, as they are sometimes called,
hung over the arm and hid them. The boy Benjamin was with his
father, and carried a third. An explanation of them came in answer
to interrogation in the eye of the coastguard. "Just to put a touch
of new paint on 'em against the weather." The speaker made one
movement of his head say that they had come from the pier-end, and
another that he had taken them home to repaint by contract.

"What do you make out of S. S. P. C.?" the coastguard asked, scarcely
as one who had no theory himself, more as one archaeologist addressing
another, teeming with deference, but ready for controversy. The other
answered with some paternal pride:

"Ah, there now! Young Benjamin, he made _that_ good, and asked for to
make it red in place of black himself! Didn't ye, ye young sculping?
St. Sennans Pier Company, that's all it comes to, followed out. But
I'm no great schoolmaster myself, and that's God's truth." Both
contemplated the judicious restoration with satisfaction; and young
Benjamin, who had turned purple under publicity, murmured that it was
black afower. He didn't seem to mean anything, but to think it due
to himself to say something, meaning or no. The coastguardsman merely
said, "Makes a tidy job!" and the father and son went on their way
to the pier.

A quarter of an hour before, this coastguard had looked after the
visitor in a blue serge suit up at Lobjoit's, who had passed him
going briskly towards the fishing-quarter. He had recognised him
confidently, for he knew Fenwick well, and saw nothing strange in his
early appearance. Now that he saw him returning, and could take full
note of him, he almost suspected he had been mistaken, so wild and
pallid was the face of this man, who, usually ready with a light word
for every chance encounter--even with perfect strangers--now passed
him by ungreeted, and to all seeming unconscious of his presence.
The coastguard was for a moment in doubt if he should not follow him,
inferring something in the nature of delirium from his aspect; but
seeing that he made straight for the pier, and knowing that young
Benjamin's father was more familiar with him than himself, he was
contented to record in thought that that was a face with a bad day
ahead