"Now, tell me, my captain," cried Archy, "what I have been longing to ask—what brought you to England?"

"A desire to serve my country. Knowing that I must soon return to America, and hoping that one of the first things which will engage the attention of Congress will be the organization of a navy, I determined to find out all I could about the English dock-yards. For this purpose I landed at Plymouth two weeks ago. I managed, by means I cannot now reveal to you, to inspect the dock-yards at Plymouth and Portsmouth both, and I have in my head a complete knowledge of the methods by which the British navy is built, armed, manned, and victualled; and this information I shall lay before the Marine Committee of Congress as soon as I return. I have also a complete list of every ship in the British navy, with the rating, metal, boats, officers, and men, when and where built, and present station and employment. How I got it goes with me to the grave, a secret.[1] Meanwhile, it became advisable for me to get away from England as soon as possible. I found all the ports in the south of England were watched, but I played with my enemies by taking post for Yorkshire. The captain of a Portuguese vessel, which lay at Gravesend, was to call at Bridlington for a part of his cargo, and I persuaded him, by the promise of a considerable sum of money, to wait for me north of the Humber for three days. He is probably there now, and he is to land me in France. And now for our mutual adventures."

"Your's first, of course."

And then Paul Jones began and gave Archy a clear account of how things were going, as nearly as he could tell, in America. It was then Archy's turn, and he told with great relish of Lord Bellingham's efforts to induce him to become a British subject, of Colonel Baskerville's unvarying kindness and wisdom, of Trevor Langton's brilliant prospects, in case he were alive.

"I hope he may still be living; but I heard through a well-informed person in London that sickness was making fearful inroads upon the garrison. I remembered your cousin's name, and asked if there were news of him. It seems that the Duc de Crillon is most generous in allowing news of individuals, and I was told that he had lately had a severe attack of fever, and it was not known whether he was alive or dead."

This was distressing news for Archy to hear. He was silent a few moments, and then said:

"I will mention this first to my uncle, and leave it to him whether he will tell my aunt and cousins and my grandfather. It will break his mother's heart if Langton is—" Here Archy stopped, unable to continue; but after a while he recovered himself, and began to take his usual cheerful view of Langton's chances.

"He may be as well as you and I are at this moment, so I will not allow myself to fear for him. And now, will you advise me for myself?"

"I can only repeat to you the advice I gave you in Paris. If I saw the slightest danger of your being beguiled into giving up your country, I would wish you to leave England at once. As it is, I see that Lord Bellingham is most kindly disposed towards you; and you are much better off until affairs have finally settled themselves with him, and especially Colonel Baskerville, of whom I have formed a high opinion. Remember, you are still, technically, an officer on parole, and so you will remain until peace is signed. I recommend, both for your interest as well as your real welfare, to remain with your relatives until you are quite free. I am glad to see that you have some domestic influences. It is well for a young man who has no mother or sisters to have the association with some one else's mother and sisters—and if the mother of those sweet and modest girls be like them, you are fortunate."

Archy had not thought he could laugh so soon after hearing of Langton's supposed illness, but at the recollection of Mary's and Isabel's gratification and delight at being noticed by Paul Jones, Archy burst into laughter, long and loud.

"If you could but hear us quarrel! My cousins are, as you say, sweet and modest; but they hate everything connected with our cause, and when I tell them that it is you—"

Paul Jones joined in Archy's merriment, so that the postilion thought the two gentlemen inside had lost their minds, they laughed so much.

They reached the first and last stage—a village on the coast—at daylight. From thence Archy was to return to Bellingham in the post-chaise. Dawn was breaking over the German Ocean, and the east glowed with a soft radiance that was turning the sky to an exquisite rose-color, and was presently to break into the splendor of the sunrise. Few vessels dotted the sea, but near the shore lay a Portuguese brigantine, which Paul Jones at once recognized. Afar off, the pile of Scarborough Castle frowned over the sea. Paul Jones's eyes sparkled, as did Archy's, when they looked seaward.

"It was yonder," cried Paul Jones, "that we fought the Serapis. Under those waves rests what was left of the gallant old Bon Homme Richard. Yonder is the sea on which I struck one good and ringing blow for my country!"

"And made the name of Paul Jones immortal," replied Archy, feeling his heart swell at the sight of the man who had earned so much glory on that spot.

The parting was painful for both, although they expected to meet shortly in their own liberated and victorious country; but it was brief. The brigantine sent a boat ashore, and almost before Archy realized that he had said good-bye to his friend and captain, Paul Jones was aboard, and the brigantine was stretching out to sea with a fair wind.

Archy turned towards the little public-house where the horses were baited, and ordered some breakfast for himself. He felt dazed. It seemed to him as if weeks separated him from the same hour the day before. After getting his breakfast he went to the chaise, while the horses were resting, entered it, and fell sound asleep. He did not stir until noon. By that time the horses were being put to, and they took the road for home. Archy, who was a good sleeper, dozed nearly all the way, but he was disturbed by troubled dreams and thoughts of Langton. However, when in the dusk of evening he drove up to Bellingham he was quite wide awake, and not all his anxieties for his friend could wholly damp his glee at his prospective triumph over Mary and Isabel. He had no fears as to the manner in which Lord Bellingham would receive him after knowing the name of his mysterious guest. His grandfather would never on earth admit that he had been hoodwinked in any way, and no matter how chagrined he was he would put a bold face on it. But Isabel and Mary!

Archy rushed in the hall and found them sitting around the fire as they had been the previous evening, with the addition of Colonel Baskerville and Mrs. Langton.

"Grandfather," bawled Archy, quite unable to moderate his exultation, "do you know who it was you entertained last night? Ha! ha!"

"Perfectly," replied Lord Bellingham, with a cold smile.

Archy felt rather flat, and looked reproachfully at Colonel Baskerville, who, he felt convinced, had robbed him of the pleasure of springing the sensation on his grandfather. But Mary and Isabel were left. Colonel Baskerville had not been cruel enough to deprive him of that delicious triumph over them.

"Do you know, Mary and Isabel?" he cried.

"No," replied Isabel, "but he was so graceful and agreeable. We told mamma we were sure he is a man of rank."

"So he is," shouted Archy, in reply.

"And there was something so romantic about him," chimed in Mary.

"When he showed us the portrait of Queen Marie Antoinette, we thought it might be possible—though I dare say it was foolish enough—that he might be the King's brother, the Comte d'Artois."

At this Archy capered with delight. Colonel Baskerville whispered something to Mrs. Langton, who started with surprise, but who laughed in her gentle way at the little comedy being played by Archy, whom she had learned to love, and Mary and Isabel.

"At all events, he was very civil," announced Isabel, "and I am sure I hope he liked the way we curtseyed. Oh, how easy it is to tell persons of rank and birth."

"Indeed, that is true," Mary echoed; "and I dare say, cousin Archy, your friend is very much opposed to these extraordinary American sympathies and notions of yours."

"Do you want to know who he is?" shrieked Archy, joyfully. "Do you want to know, I say? He is Captain Paul Jones, of the continental navy—so much for his rank; and as for his birth, he is the son of a gardener. O-oo-ooh!" Archy's yells of rapturous laughter fairly made the roof ring, and it was so infectious that even Lord Bellingham burst into a cackle—the nearest approach he ever made to audible laughter.

But it was no laughing matter to Mary and Isabel. They sat as if paralyzed, looking blankly at each other, and quite stunned by the magnitude of the mistake they had made. Mary gasped out:

"Paul—"

And Isabel added, faintly:

"Jones."

And then, unable to stand the laughter, in which even their mother joined, while Colonel Baskerville haw-hawed openly, they flung out of the hall and rushed up to their rooms, where, locked in each other's arms, they wept bitterly from pure chagrin.

All this was bliss to Archy, but serious thoughts were lurking in his mind. He took the first opportunity to speak to Colonel Baskerville alone without attracting observation—and that opportunity did not come until bedtime, in the Colonel's own room. Then he repeated what Paul Jones had told him of Langton's illness.

"Poor lad! poor lad!" said Colonel Baskerville, pacing the floor. "I never saw him, but in my heart I love him. I think, with you, it is best not to tell his mother of this new anxiety, but it would be well to let Lord Bellingham know. As Captain Paul Jones says, the Duc de Crillon is most chivalrous in permitting communications with the garrison at Gibraltar respecting individuals, and there might be means, through Lord Bellingham's influence at the Admiralty, to find out something about Langton."

Next morning all the members of the household were surprised when they found that Lord Bellingham's solicitor had arrived from York at an early hour. Archy surmised that the solicitor had been sent for in regard to making Lord Bellingham's will, and was not surprised, during the course of the afternoon, to be invited to his grandfather's room. Lord Bellingham thought he had made up his mind to make Langton his sole heir, but Archy had so won upon his pride and ambition, which took the place of a heart with him, that he could not forbear one last appeal to him.

When Archy, so frank, so manly, so handsome, stood before him, Lord Bellingham yearned to make him the heir; and for that purpose assumed a dignity and sweetness of manner which he possessed, but rarely exhibited. Although Archy's determination was too firm to be shaken, he realized that Lord Bellingham could be, when he chose, a very persuasive man. Lord Bellingham used every argument, and one in especial was peculiarly touching to Archy, while not convincing.

"I will acknowledge," he said, "after having been of another mind for thirty years, that I was unduly hard on your father. He was a better son to me than I was a father to him. Suffer me, therefore, to ease my conscience of its reproach to my dead son by helping me to give you your rights."

Archy remained silent. He knew not how to put his refusal in words, but presently he rose.

"Grandfather," he said, "I thank you for your justice to my father. He had his faults to other people, but he had none to me; and if I follow his injunctions I shall never disgrace him or you or myself. I feel sure, though, that he would advise me to stand by my country, and I must do it. But you have another grandson—at least, I hope you have—who is much more likely to fulfil your expectation than I am—Trevor Langton."

All this was very pretty, thought Lord Bellingham, but it did not serve to give him his own way, which he dearly loved, and especially in this great and important matter. From the most winning mildness he suddenly changed to the blackness of wrath. He sat quite silent, beating the devil's tattoo on the floor, and suddenly burst out with—

"Hang it! I'll give you a thousand pounds and let you go back to your damned country!"

"Thank you—thank you!" cried Archy, who inherited his grandfather's disinclination to acknowledge that he was disappointed. "A thousand pounds! I'll be glad to get a hundred, sir! And a thousand! It will buy me my outfit for the navy, when we get one, and leave enough to live like a prince on besides!"

At which Lord Bellingham most unexpectedly found himself laughing, in his silent way, to see that what he had intended to be a miserable pittance should be received so debonairly by this unconventional youngster.

"And now, sir, may I go and tell my aunt that you have cut me off with a shilling, so to speak—for I take it that Langton is to be your heir now, poor chap, if he is living?"

"You may; and I say, you dog—I'll give you two thousand pounds."

Archy dashed into Mrs. Langton's sitting-room, where, with Colonel Baskerville, Isabel, and Mary, she was anxiously awaiting the result of the conference.

"Hurrah, aunt!" he cried, "my grandfather has behaved like a king. He has given me two thousand pounds, and the rest will be Trevor's. And now, Miss Mary and Miss Isabel," he added, maliciously, "I beg you to notice that I could have been as English as you if I had chosen, and could have been a lord to boot—but not I! If I can but get a lieutenant's commission in the American navy, I'd rather have it than to be Lord Bellingham of Bellingham Castle. Do you believe me now?"

And even Mary and Isabel received the announcement with respect. Mrs. Langton kissed him tenderly, saying:

"You are a noble boy, and I wish you were my son, too," while Colonel Baskerville shook his hand warmly.

"You have done the very thing I could not wish you to do," he said, "but I must admit that you have acted the gentleman and the man of honor."

Lord Bellingham showed that he was in earnest in sending for his solicitor to make his will, but the news they had just learned of Langton's illness made it important that it should be known whether he were still alive at the moment of disposing of so much property. Lord Bellingham showed the most intense eagerness. After having put off making his will until his old age, he then became morbidly desirous to make it; and at last, after many conferences with his solicitor and Colonel Baskerville, the Colonel hit upon a plan in his own mind on which he congratulated himself. He spoke privately to the solicitor about it before mentioning it to Archy or Lord Bellingham.

"My nephew, Mr. Baskerville, has a safe-conduct from the French government which would easily enable him to go to Gibraltar by way of France. He could go there, find out whether Trevor Langton is alive or dead—alive, I trust and pray—and return in one-half the time it would take for an inquiry through the regular channels. I have no doubt he would go. He is at the restless age which, happily, does not last always; and besides, if he does this for Langton, it must meet with a reward from my brother besides the paltry two thousand pounds he has promised, or rather threatened, in his will. But not a word of this to my nephew. He is not without perversity, and besides, having done a noble and disinterested thing, however mistaken we may think it, he is too acute to sully it by trying to make interest with his grandfather afterwards."

Lord Bellingham grasped eagerly at this, and, of his own volition, said:

"I should not fail to remember this in making my testamentary arrangements."

It was enough to mention the journey to Archy. The eyes of Europe were turned on Gibraltar. The moment was fast approaching when the last mortal struggle was coming between the dauntless garrison and the gigantic naval and military power of France and Spain, and no young man of spirit but would have been fascinated at the idea of seeing the climax of these great events. Archy could not start soon enough to please himself, and, within the week, had taken the road to London. He travelled in state, in Lord Bellingham's private post-chaise, which was to take him to London. He carried with him letters to Admiral Kempenfelt, who commanded the Royal George—one of the splendid fleet of thirty-four vessels that were being made ready at Spithead, night and day, for an effort to save Gibraltar—and numerous other letters, calculated to forward his journey to France under a flag of truce, and he had also a considerable sum of money in gold.

He stopped but a day in London, to have his safe-conduct visÉd at the Admiralty. Then he sent the post-chaise back with a long letter to his grandfather, and a short but affectionate one to Trevor Langton's mother. In this last, he actually forced himself to send his love to Mary and Isabel, but he could not forbear adding at the bottom:

"P.S.—Dear Aunt,—I hope my cousins are not pining away for Captain Paul Jones. He admires the ladies very much, but I do not think he has the intention to ask any particular fair one to share his glorious destiny with him. Break this gently to my cousins.

"A. B."

That very afternoon Archy took post for Portsmouth, and arrived there in a few hours. He went to the celebrated Angel Inn, and tumbled into bed, and was astir early the next morning to find a way of reaching the mighty and invincible Rock.

[1] Paul Jones did possess this list, and he never revealed the source of his information, which was supposed to be some one high in authority at the Admiralty.