air or noisily disputed the possession of fragments
of fish and the offal of the market. In the pool a dozen trawlers,
green striped and numbered, with furled brown sails and slackened
rigging rode sweetly at anchor. A knot of seamen leaned against the
outer stone wall of the pier smoking pipes and gazing idly across the
opal coloured sea. A couple of artists were wrestling valiantly with
the thousand subtle difficulties of the scene--trying to transmit to
canvas the changing lights upon the water, the pink blush on the
white-washed houses and the dull grey shadows on the mud. It was a
scene calm and sweet enough to awaken gentleness and set romance astir
but in Harrison Smith's mind it inspired no more than a sense of doubt
and disappointment. Surely this tiny harbour was an unlikely landing
for a man to choose who carried in his pocket the key to millions. No
decent sized vessel would ever put into such a port. The place was
asleep--dead almost.

A blasting conviction that the marks in the guide book had no
connection whatever with the business in hand came over him.
Barraclough might have put them there expressly to deceive the girl.
He was subtle enough to employ such a device. What if after all the
others were right and it was indeed Barraclough they had kidnapped? A
pretty fool he would look then.

Shaking himself out of these melancholy forebodings Harrison Smith
approached an old seaman with the offer of a "good evening" and a fill
of tobacco.

"Pretty quiet hereabouts," he remarked.

The old man nodded.

"Still I dare say you get steamers and such like popping in every day
to liven things up."

"Bearn't draught enuff for steamers. They doan't bother us much,
steamers doan't."

The reply was not encouraging.

"I see the fishing fleet is at anchor. Weather too calm?"

"Couldn't say thaat."

"Going out tonight?"

"Med-do."

"And how do you get rid of your fish?"

"Us sells 'er."

"I mean do you send it up by road?"

"Naw!"

"Steam trawler comes in to collect it?"

"Doan't come in--not very often it doan't."

Harrison Smith turned away with a sigh, leaving the old man sucking at
his pipe and spitting reflectively. There was no illumination to be
found in that quarter.

More than ever doubtful of success he passed slowly through the village
to its inland outskirts and there he paused to study the map. It might
be worth while taking a casual glance at the group of three cottag