With six hundred dollars in his pocket, and made so easily, and a bottle of wine beneath his vest, Barney Breslin was feeling in a mood to be reckless.

He stopped short upon seeing Mark Merrill, stepping directly in front of him, and in a very determined way.

As for Scott Clemmons his face flushed with shame at being seen with Breslin, after what he had said aboard ship, and he would have passed on.

So also would Merrill and Perry, but Breslin was not thus inclined.

He had been in so many scrapes since the one that disgraced him from the Naval Academy that he had forgotten his affair with Mark, more than to recall that he had some cause of hatred against him.

“I say, Merrill, do you intend to cut me, or do you fail to recognize me?” he asked, in an insolent manner.

“I recognize you, yes, Breslin, and I desire to cut you utterly,” was the cool response.

“Then take that.”

A vicious blow was aimed, but it was cleverly turned, while the fist of Mark Merrill caught Breslin squarely between the eyes, and sent him to the floor.

A crowd sprang toward the spot, and when Breslin arose he shouted:

“Arrest that fellow for assault!”

Mark Merrill was not to be seen. He had been quickly drawn aside by Bemis Perry.

A policeman, hearing that “a cadet had knocked the gentleman down,” at once seized Scott Clemmons against his earnest protests.

But from this predicament Breslin released him, by coming to his rescue with the words:

“You are wrong, officer, that is not the man. But I will show you the man.”

“No, I’d not arrest any one on your charge, Breslin, for I know you now, and you doubtless insulted the one who knocked you down,” and, turning to Clemmons, he continued:

“You, sir, doubtless do not know this man, so I warn you against him as a barroom loafer and dead beat generally, who fleeces all strangers he can pick up.”

With this the officer walked off, while Scott Clemmons felt as though he would like to sink into the floor to hide himself, especially as he caught sight of a cadet uniform vanishing from the crowd.

So he skulked away, as under the words of the officer Breslin had quickly vanished.

In the meantime Mark and Perry had gone into the dining room, and by a strange coincidence took a seat at the same table where Clemmons and Breslin had had dinner together.

“I beg pardon, sir, but are you from the cruising ship now in port?” asked the waiter.

“We are, and we wish the best dinner you can give two fresh young salts,” said Perry.

“I’ll give you a good dinner, sir; but the two gentlemen who were here awhile since, one of them wearing a uniform like yours, left this paper. I just picked it up as you came in.”

Perry took the paper and said, after glancing at it:

“I will deliver it to the gentleman whose name is here, for he is on our ship. Now, my man, we are hungry, so do your best,” and a liberal fee was slipped into the hand of the waiter.

“Oh, thank you, sir; but what wines will you drink?”

“We will not take wine, my man.”

The waiter disappeared with a look of surprise upon his face that any one in uniform ate dinner and drank no wine.

“See here, Merrill, I am going to do perhaps a mean thing, but I am curious to know a few things, and I shall question that waiter.”

“What do you wish to know, Perry?”

“What he can tell me about Clemmons and Breslin, for he took an inkstand, paper and pen off this table as we came up, and here is the paper which the waiter picked up—see!”

He held the piece of paper up, and Mark said:

“If it is Clemmons’, give it to him.”

“It does belong to Clemmons.”

“Then neither of us have a right to read it.”

“Pardon me, but I read it at a glance, and as it is but a few lines I will read it to you, as I am sure it concerns you.”

“Concerns me?”

Without reply Bemis Perry read aloud:

“In consideration of the sum of six hundred dollars, received from Scott Clemmons, I hereby pledge myself to never cross his path again, and to make no further demand upon him for money.”

“Well, what do you think of that, Merrill?”

“It would seem that Breslin holds some claim upon Clemmons; but it is none of our affair.”

“I think it is.”

“How do you mean?”

“I believe that the wrong man was dismissed from the academy, that Breslin was simply the tool of Scott Clemmons,” was the startling reply of the young South Carolinian.

Mark fairly started at this, and yet made no response, while Perry continued:

“Now I shall return this paper to Clemmons, and I shall question this waiter to please myself, and then I shall keep my eye upon that young man from Maine, see if I do not, and if he means mischief toward you I will play the same game.”

Mark still remained silent.

Whatever he might think of Scott Clemmons’ conduct toward him he did not wish others to suspect him of treachery, and he was really sorry that the paper had been found.

But he knew that Bemis Perry was circumspect, and would not act without discretion.

When the waiter returned Perry gave him another fee, praised the dinner, and questioned him closely about the two others who had dined at the table before them.

Mark listened in silence to all that was said, and as they walked away Bemis Perry remarked:

“I am right, Merrill. Breslin was simply the tool of Scott Clemmons.”