hat we can do to-night!"

"Let me see it," said Sir Arthur, sternly, "I will be satisfied--I will
judge with my own eyes!"

He held the object up in the light of the lantern. It was a small case
of irregular shape, which, from the joyful exclamation of the baronet,
seemed to be filled with coin.

"Ah!" said Sir Arthur; "this is good luck, indeed. This is a beginning.
We will try again at the very next change of the moon. That six hundred
pounds I owe to Goldieword would be ruin indeed unless I can find
something to meet it. But this puts new hope into me!"

But now Dousterswivel was more than ever eager to be gone, and he
hurried Sir Arthur away with his treasure, having only taken time to
thrust back the earth and replace the tombstone roughly in its place, so
as to leave no very obvious traces of the midnight search for treasure.

III. MISTICOT'S GRAVE

The hour of going to meet the boat was now approaching, and Edie
conducted Lovel by a solitary path through the woods to the sea-shore.
There in the first level beams of the rising sun, they saw the little
gun-brig riding at anchor in the offing. Taffril himself met his friend,
and eased Lovel's mind considerably by telling him that Captain
MacIntyre's wound, though doubtful, was far from desperate, and that he
trusted a short cruise would cover all the consequences of his
unfortunate encounter.

Lovel offered gold to the beggar, but Edie once more refused it,
declaring that he thought all the folk had "gone clean daft."

"I have had more gold offered to me these last two or three weeks," he
said, "than I have seen in all my life before. Na, na, take back your
guineas, and for luck let me have but one lily-white shilling!"

The boat put off toward the lieutenant's brig, impelled by six stout
rowers. Lovel saw the old beggar wave his blue bonnet to him, before
turning slowly about as if to resume his customary wanderings from farm
to farm, and from village to village.

* * * * *

So excellently well did Captain MacIntyre progress toward recovery that
in a little while the Antiquary declared it clean impossible for him to
get a single bite of breakfast, or have his wig made decent, or a slice
of unburnt toast to eat--all because his womenfolk were in constant
attendance upon the wounded Captain, whose guns and spaniels filled the
house, and for whom even the faithful Caxon ran messages, while his own
master waited for him in