eming, cold--blooded
villain."

"Well now!" said Meekin, with asperity, "I don't agree with you.
Everybody seems to be against that poor fellow--Captain Frere tried to
make me think that his letters contained a hidden meaning, but I
don't believe they did. He seems to me to be truly penitent for his
offences--a misguided, but not a hypocritical man, if my knowledge of
human nature goes for anything."

"I hope he is," said North. "I wouldn't trust him."

"Oh! there's no fear of him," said Burgess cheerily; "if he grows
uproarious, we'll soon give him a touch of the cat."

"I suppose severity is necessary," returned Meekin; "though to my ears a
flogging sounds a little distasteful. It is a brutal punishment."

"It's a punishment for brutes," said Burgess, and laughed, pleased with
the nearest approach to an epigram he ever made in his life.

Here attention was called by the strange behaviour of Mr. North. He had
risen, and, without apology, flung wide the window, as though he gasped
for air. "Hullo, North! what's the matter?"

"Nothing," said North, recovering himself with an effort. "A spasm. I
have these attacks at times." "Have some brandy," said Burgess.

"No, no, it will pass. No, I say. Well, if you insist." And seizing the
tumbler offered to him, he half-filled it with raw spirit, and swallowed
the fiery draught at a gulp.

The Reverend Meekin eyed his clerical brother with horror. The Reverend
Meekin was not accustomed to clergymen who wore black neckties, smoked
clay pipes, chewed tobacco, and drank neat brandy out of tumblers.

"Ha!" said North, looking wildly round upon them. "That's better."

"Let us go on to the verandah," said Burgess. "It's cooler than in the
house."

So they went on to the verandah, and looked down upon the lights of
the prison, and listened to the sea lapping the shore. The Reverend
Mr. North, in this cool atmosphere, seemed to recover himself, and
conversation progressed with some sprightliness.

By and by, a short figure, smoking a cheroot, came up out of the dark,
and proved to be Dr. Macklewain, who had been prevented from attending
the dinner by reason of an accident to a constable at Norfolk Bay, which
had claimed his professional attention.

"Well, how's Forrest?" cried Burgess. "Mr. Meekin--Dr. Macklewain."

"Dead," said Dr. Macklewain. "Delighted to see you, Mr. Meekin."

"Confound it--another of my best men," grumbled Burgess. "Macklewain,
have a glass of wine