r that he had ample
reason for wishing to repay the grudge.

And they plotted together to wreak a well-merited vengeance upon that
falsely jovial Captain Robinson.

The nature of that vengeance you will learn if you have patience to
wait till the next chapter.

CHAPTER XCIX.

HOW CAPTAIN ROBINSON CAME TO APPLY HIS LEECH AGAIN--WHAT CAME OF
IT--THE SEA GIVES UP ITS DEAD--A FEARSOME SIGHT--THE TRAITOR'S
TERROR--JOE DEERING WIPES OFF AN OLD SCORE.

Captain Robinson was more jovial than ever.

His honest-looking, ruddy face was beaming with smiles, and he appeared
as hearty as the most honest, upright and plain-sailing fellow in the
world.

Captain Robinson was like most sailors in one respect; he was
remarkably superstitious.

Instinctive presage of good luck to-day put him in rare spirits, as he
made his customary call.

"I feel as if I was going to land him to-day," muttered the jovial
captain to himself.

And his face was actually beaming with smiles, as his hand rested on
the knocker.

"Oh, good, morning, Mrs. Wilmot," he said, heartily; "how are you this
bright morning, Mrs. Wilmot?"

"Better, thank you, Captain Robinson," returned the housekeeper, giving
him an odd glance.

"That's hearty. Why, you are looking more yourself."

"Better in health, because better in spirits," said the housekeeper,
insidiously.

The captain pricked up his ears at this.

"Any better news by chance, Mrs. Wilmot?" said he.

"Ah, that there is indeed," said she.

"About the master?" asked he.

"That's it," said she.

"You don't mean to say that he's coming home again?"

"I don't mean to say that he's coming," said the housekeeper, with
wondrous significance.

"Why, whatever are you driving at?" he said.

"I'm not a-driving at nothing, Captain Robinson--leastways, not that I
am aware of. All I know is, that Mr. Murray ain't likely to be coming
home, for he ain't in a position to come home, seeing as----"

She paused.

"What?"

"Guess what."

"Hang it all, I can't."

"You must."

She laughed outright, and clapped her hands in regular kitten-like joy.

"What on earth do you mean, Mrs. Wilmot? I hate such palavering and
beating about the bush. If he's coming home, say so; if he ain't coming
home, tell me where I can see him, or where he's hiding."

"Why, he can't be coming home when----"

Here she stopped short in the most aggravating manner in the world.

The jovial captain grew black and