Masters walked back to where Dick was sitting; stood facing the boy again. It was plain that he was really worried; evidently had something on his mind. Dick paid as much quiet attention as it was possible for him to bestow as the author spoke:

"You will oblige me very much by listening. This business reminds me of the boys and the frog, and I am not finding the rÔle of frog a pleasant one to fill. If you will drop stone throwing and let me croak, I shall take it as a particular favour."

"Croak on."

"When I told you that I had lived at Wivernsea for years, I should have said only a month in each year. I go down there each October."

"This is of absorbing interest!"

Dick's intentions were good, but his high spirits got the better of him. The look on his companion's face induced him to settle for another effort of solemnity.

"It was necessary for me to tell you that; by way of explanation of how little I know of Ivy Cottage!"

"Croak on."

Masters was leaning against the handrail, his fingers handling the ropes which supported the lifeboat. He put both arms through and, resting so, spoke on:

"People in Wivernsea—who don't know your sister—don't speak well of the place, Dick."

"What do you mean—haunted?"

"No. Worse than that."

The gravity in the speaker's manner was not without its effect on the boy. A spasm of pain shot across his face; he sat up soberly enough now. The feet ceased their drumming; the hands came out of his pockets; the air of nonchalance fell from him like a mask.

"Worse? What?"

"That is what I am anxious to have explained. In a sense, it is no business of mine, but I want it cleared up for your sister's sake; and I think you ought to know."

"What?"

"This tittle-tattle I am referring to. It goes to the length of saying that people living at Ivy Cottage go under false names. That not long since, the sheriff was in possession under a warrant of execution and the furniture was seized. Of course, I know they are all lies——"

"You're wrong, Prince. There is a basis of truth in it."

Masters started in surprise. Dick's head was bent, to hide the flush of shame on his face. He spoke in a troubled voice; then suddenly lifted his head; meant to speak honestly, said:

"I am the foundation of that; the miserable cause of that rumour."

"You!"

"Yes. You can't help despising my meanness when I have told you, even if you don't already. It is due to you that I should explain how it came about. I have had drinking bouts similar to the last one you helped me out of——"

"The last one."

"Please God—yes; the last one. At the commencement of one of them, about six months ago, I fell an easy victim to some card-sharpers; I was a stranger within their gates and they took me in—literally. I had no more idea what I was playing than I had of the character of the players. A thousand pounds was the amount they said I had lost, and I was too far gone to deny it. Of course I had not that money on me. I was made to sign a cheque they drew on my bankers on a half-sheet of note paper with a penny stamp stuck on it."

"I see."

"I was reaching the shaky stage then, Prince, when the hands need a ton-weight pressure to prevent their acting like aspen leaves. The bank refused payment on the ground of 'difference of signature.' The card-sharping people consulted the six-and-eightpenny fraternity and issued a writ for that thousand pounds. Served it on me whilst I was lying in bed in a state of mental insensibility."

"Is it possible? I wonder the process-server was allowed to enter your room."

"He was the kind that could not be kept out. They had a wily little lawyer acting for them—I found this all out afterwards, of course. He found out the name of the medical man attending me and presented himself as the doctor's assistant; so served me."

"What a beastly trick!"

"Success attended its performance, though. The game was in their own hands, and they were playing it by the end-justifying-the-means rule. Eight days after service judgment was signed and an execution was put in at my sister's house at Wivernsea."

"Why on earth there?"

"Part of the game they were playing. They had made inquiries, and found that I was living in London at the time in a furnished flat. I suppose they relied on my sister paying the execution out."

"Which she did?"

"She flew up to London, and consulted our family lawyer. He looked into the thing at the Law Courts; read the affidavit of service and things of that sort; saw that the whole matter was in order. They came on to see me, but I was in the snakes-on-the-wall stage at the time; didn't know them from Adam and Eve. The family lawyer—one of the best, but rather inclined to look on the breath of scandal as a fatal thing—advised a settlement. Said that, even if she turned the execution out, they might proceed against me in bankruptcy. Pointed out that expenses were piling up, and—well, Sis paid the sheriff."

"How ghastly!"

"I used a stronger word. My adjectives were like fireworks, then I came round and learnt what had been done: but it was too late. All I could do was to give Sis a cheque for what was paid, and ask her to forgive me; which, dearest of dear souls, she has done a dozen times in my miserable life."

Dick looked the picture of dejection by the time he had finished. Masters was not, however, observing him: was following out his own train of thought.

"Of course. That explains. News of a thing like that, and in another name too, would speedily spread over a small place like Wivernsea."

"As easily as jam is spread on a piece of bread. I never thought of that, though. What a beast—what a perfect beast I have been!"

Dick was of an excitable temperament: the alcohol in his thermometer—his spirits—was ever at the fever-heat of exuberance or deep down at the zero of dejection. But little was needed to carry him to either extreme: therein lay his danger. Masters knew it; yet he said:

"If I had only known all this a few weeks ago, I should not be on this boat now."

"I am glad you lacked the knowledge, then, Prince. For if you hadn't come aboard when you did, I shouldn't be here either."

Masters regretted his reproachful speech the moment it was uttered. Instantly changed its tone; put up a warning finger as he cried threateningly:

"Dick!"

"I know it, dear old chap; I know what my intent was. But don't let's talk about it now."

"Or ever again."

The cloud cleared from the lad's face; he responded heartily:

"Right!"

At the moment the gong sounded in the engine-room. An air of bustle pervaded the ship. They looked to discover the cause.

"Hullo! Why, look here! Here we are at Madeira."

They were. So absorbed had they been in conversation as not to notice how near they were to land. The usual excitement of a stoppage now occupied their attention.

The vessel was to stay at Madeira for a time. Stores had to be taken in and the passengers allowed a chance of seeing the place before the vessel was turned for her homeward voyage.

Masters and Dick spent their whole time on shore; always in each other's company. The author explained that he liked sympathy in his admiration for the lions of the port. The one made many sketches and the other many mental notes.

They were quite good friends again.