that time what it contained and what the finding of it signified.
But of this our hero said nothing to anyone, nor did he tell a

single living soul what he had seen that night, but nursed it in
his own mind, where it lay so big for a while that he could think

of little or nothing else for days after.
Mr. Greenfield, Mr. Hartright's correspondent and agent in these

parts, lived in a fine brick house just out of the town, on the
Mona Road, his family consisting of a wife and two

daughters--brisk, lively young ladies with black hair and eyes,
and very fine bright teeth that shone whenever they laughed, and

with a plenty to say for themselves. Thither Barnaby True was
often asked to a family dinner; and, indeed, it was a pleasant

home to visit, and to sit upon the veranda and smoke a cigarro
with the good old gentleman and look out toward the mountains,

while the young ladies laughed and talked, or played upon the
guitar and sang. And oftentimes so it was strongly upon

Barnaby's mind to speak to the good gentleman and tell him what
he had beheld that night out in the harbor; but always he would

think better of it and hold his peace, falling to thinking, and
smoking away upon his cigarro at a great rate.

A day or two before the Belle Helen sailed from Kingston Mr.
Greenfield stopped Barnaby True as he was going through the

office to bid him to come to dinner that night (for there within
the tropics they breakfast at eleven o'clock and take dinner in

the cool of the evening, because of the heat, and not at midday,
as we do in more temperate latitudes). "I would have you meet,"

says Mr. Greenfield, "your chief passenger for New York, and his
granddaughter, for whom the state cabin and the two staterooms

are to be fitted as here ordered [showing a letter]--Sir John
Malyoe and Miss Marjorie Malyoe. Did you ever hear tell of Capt.

Jack Malyoe, Master Barnaby?"
Now I do believe that Mr. Greenfield had no notion at all that

old Captain Brand was Barnaby True's own grandfather and Capt.
John Malyoe his murderer, but when he so thrust at him the name

of that man, what with that in itself and the late adventure
through which he himself had just passed, and with his brooding

upon it until it was so prodigiously big in his mind, it was like
hitting him a blow to so fling the questions at him.

Nevertheless, he was able to reply, with a pretty straight face,
that he had heard of Captain Malyoe and who he was.

"Well," says Mr. Greenfield, "if Jack Malyoe was a desperate
pirate and a wild, reckless blade twenty years ago, why, he is

Sir John Malyoe now and the owner of a fine estate in Devonshire.
Well, Master Barnaby, when one is a baronet and come into the

inheritance of a fine estate (though I do hear it is vastly
cumbered with debts), the world will wink its eye to much that he

may have done twenty years ago. I do hear say, though, that his
own kin still turn the cold shoulder to him."

To this address Barnaby answered nothing, but sat smoking away at
his cigarro at a great rate.

And so that night Barnaby True came face to face for the first
time with the man who murdered his own grandfather--the greatest

beast of a man that ever he met in all of his life.
That time in the harbor he had seen Sir John Malyoe at a distance

and in the darkness; now that he beheld him near by it seemed to
him that he had never looked at a more evil face in all his life.

Not that the man was altogether ugly, for he had a good nose and
a fine double chin; but his eyes stood out like balls and were

red and watery, and he winked them continually, as though they
were always smarting; and his lips were thick and purple-red, and

his fat, red cheeks were mottled here and there with little clots
of purple veins; and when he spoke his voice rattled so in his

throat that it made one wish to clear one's own throat to listen
to him. So, what with a pair of fat, white hands, and that hoarse

voice, and his swollen face, and his thick lips sticking out, it
seemed to Barnaby True he had never seen a countenance so

distasteful to him as that one into which he then looked.
But if Sir John Malyoe was so displeasing to our hero's taste,

why, the granddaughter, even this first time he beheld her,
seemed to him to be the most beautiful, lovely young lady that

ever he saw. She had a thin, fair skin, red lips, and yellow
hair--though it was then powdered pretty white for the

occasion--and the bluest eyes that Barnaby beheld in all of his
life. A sweet, timid creature, who seemed not to dare so much as

to speak a word for herself without looking to Sir John for leave
to do so, and would shrink and shudderwhenever he would speak of

a sudden to her or direct a sudden glance upon her. When she did
speak, it was in so low a voice that one had to bend his head to

hear her, and even if she smiled would catch herself and look up
as though to see if she had leave to be cheerful.

As for Sir John, he sat at dinner like a pig, and gobbled and ate
and drank, smacking his lips all the while, but with hardly a

word to either her or Mrs. Greenfield or to Barnaby True; but
with a sour, sullen air, as though he would say, "Your damned

victuals and drink are no better than they should be, but I must
eat 'em or nothing." A great bloated beast of a man!

Only after dinner was over and the young lady and the two misses
sat off in a corner together did Barnaby hear her talk with any

ease. Then, to be sure, her tongue became loose, and she
prattled away at a great rate, though hardly above her breath,

until of a sudden her grandfather called out, in his hoarse,
rattling voice, that it was time to go. Whereupon she stopped

short in what she was saying and jumped up from her chair,
looking as frightened as though she had been caught in something

amiss, and was to be punished for it.
Barnaby True and Mr. Greenfield both went out to see the two into

their coach, where Sir John's man stood holding the lantern. And
who should he be, to be sure, but that same lean villain with

bald head who had offered to shoot the leader of our hero's
expedition out on the harbor that night! For, one of the circles

of light from the lantern shining up into his face, Barnaby True
knew him the moment he clapped eyes upon him. Though he could not

have recognized our hero, he grinned at him in the most impudent,
familiar fashion, and never so much as touched his hat either to

him or to Mr. Greenfield; but as soon as his master and his young
mistress had entered the coach, banged to the door and scrambled

up on the seat alongside the driver, and so away without a word,
but with another impudent grin, this time favoring both Barnaby

and the old gentleman.
Such were these two, master and man, and what Barnaby saw of them

then was only confirmed by further observation--the most hateful
couple he ever knew; though, God knows, what they afterward

suffered should wipe out all complaint against them.
The next day Sir John Malyoe's belongings began to come aboard

the Belle Helen, and in the afternoon that same lean, villainous
manservant comes skipping across the gangplank as nimble as a

goat, with two black men behind him lugging a great sea chest.
"What!" he cried out, "and so you is the supercargo, is you? Why,

I thought you was more account when I saw you last night
a-sitting talking with His Honor like his equal. Well, no

matter; 'tis something to have a brisk, genteel young fellow for
a supercargo. So come, my hearty, lend a hand, will you, and help

me set His Honor's cabin to rights."
What a speech was this to endure from such a fellow, to be sure!