nding near. In
fact, he had forgotten how wet he was, so interested was he in
obtaining aid for the unfortunate woman as speedily as possible.

Upon his return to the tug, he found the old man keeping guard.

"How is she now?" he asked.

"Ye can see fer yourself," and the boatman swung around his lantern as
he spoke.

Douglas now had more time to observe the face of the woman before him.
Her head, resting on an old coat, turned slightly to one side, was
partly covered by a wealth of jet-black hair, forming a striking
contrast to the face which was so very white. It was a face of
considerable beauty, though lines of care were plainly visible. She
seemed but a girl lying there, and as Douglas looked at her an intense
anger smote his soul, and he longed to lay his hands upon the wretch
who had tried to destroy her.

"Why are such brutes allowed their freedom?" he asked turning toward
the boatman.

"Hey, what is that you say?" was the reply.

"I wonder why human brutes are permitted to have their freedom, and
injure a woman such as that?"

"You saw the deed, then?"

"Yes, I happened to be on the dock over there, when she was pushed into
the water by her companion. He disappeared before I could get my hands
on him."

"Oh, that is always the way. The women are the ones who suffer while
the men get scot-free. But, say, here is the car now."

It did not take long to transfer the woman from the tug to the
ambulance, and when the car had departed, Douglas turned to the boatman.

"I wish to thank you for what you have done to-night, sir. But for
your timely assistance I fear I should have had a hard time getting
ashore."

"Oh, never mind your thanks," was the reply. "I'm mighty glad that I
was nearby to give a hand. It does one good sometimes to help a poor
creature in distress. But you had better hustle and change your wet
clothes or the ambulance will have to come fer you next."

"You're right, I do feel chilly, so good-night."

"Good-night," was the reply, "and when ye want any help with that
scoundrel, just call upon Cap' Dodges, of the 'Nancy Staines.'"

CHAPTER III

CONSCIENCE MONEY

The rector of St. Margaret's was visibly annoyed as he hung up the
telephone receiver. "Confound that fellow," he muttered, "where can he
be? I have phoned to him six times and can get no answer. I shall not
call him again. I'm really glad he's going for he gets on my nerves
with all his odd notions."