Salthaven. William Wymark Jacobs

and drew a chair to the table. He shook his head, and with marvellous accuracy, considering that his gaze was fastened on a piece of cold beef, helped himself to a wedge of steak-pie. He ate with an appetite, and after pouring out and drinking a glass of ale gazed again at the forlorn figure of Mr. Truefitt.

      "Words?" he breathed, in a conspirator's whisper.

      The other shook his head. "No; they were very polite," he replied, slowly.

      The captain nearly emitted a groan. He checked it with two square inches of pie-crust.

      "A misunderstanding," said Mr. Truefitt.

      The captain said "Ah!" It was all he could say for the moment.

      "A misunderstanding," said the other. "I misled Mrs. Willett," he added, in a tense whisper.

      "Good heavens!" said the captain.

      "She had always understood—from me," continued Mr. Truefitt, "that when I married Susanna would go. I always thought she would. Anybody who knew Susanna would have thought so. You would—wouldn't you?"

      "In the ordinary way—yes," said the captain; "but circumstances alter cases."