harbor, now dashing about and tugging wildly at
their doubled moorings, soon to be left high and dry on the soft ooze
when the thirty-foot tide receded. "There's where we find our best
customers," laughed the French wanton, as Alan Hawke drew her to his
knee, and they laughed merrily over the golden harvest of the sea, the
price of the recovered dead. Through the narrow stone fanged streets
lumbered along the heavy French hooded carts, driven by squatty men in
oil skins and sou'westers, and laden down with the spoils of the whale,
cod, and oyster fisheries. Stout women in huge blue aprons, with baskets
on their rounded arms, gossiped at the protecting corners, while the
shouts of Landlord Etienne Garcin's drunken band of sea wolves now began
to ring out in the smoky salle a boire.

It was two o'clock when the burly form of Etienne Garcin was propelled
unceremoniously into Alan Hawke's room. A grin of satisfaction spread
over the bullet-headed old ruffian's face, and his round gray pig eyes
twinkled, as he noted the already established entente cordiale between
Jack Blunt's pal and the wanton spy who was the absent Jack's own
especial pet. But, Alan Hawke was temporarily blind to the universally
offered charms of the soubrette as he read Joseph Smith's careful
report.

"That's the talk!" joyously cried Hawke. His heart bounded in a fierce
thrill. "By God! Simpson shall be 'done up' in short order. The drunken
old dog. He cut off the payment of my drafts with his blabbing tongue!

"Yes, over the cliffs he goes, and we will make sure of
him--forever--before he takes his last tumble! Jack! Jack! You are a
hero!" he mused, as the triumphant words of Jack Blunt's great discovery
were read again and again. And then, he carefully burned the letter,
before the astonished eyes of the tempting companion of his waiting
hours. "These fools of employers!" cheerfully muttered Alan Hawke. "They
always think that 'Servant's Hall' has no eyes. That the maid in her cap
and apron has not the same burning passions as idle Madame in her silks
and laces. That the man has not his own easy-going vices just as alive
and masterful as the base appetites of the swell master."

While Alan Hawke thus exulted at Granville, there was gloom and jealousy
in the heart of Prof. Alaric Hobbs, of Waukesha University, Wisconsin,
U. S. A.

A tall, lank, bespectacled "Westerner," nearly thirty-five years of age,
the blue-eyed country boy had dragged himsel