two biggish, iron-hooped chests, the wood of which was stained and discoloured with earth and clay. They were heavy chests, and they used tackle to get them aboard, setting them down close by where we stood. I looked at them with a good deal of interest; then, remembering that Miss Raven was fully conversant with all that Scarterfield had discovered at Blyth, I touched her elbow, directing her attention to the two bulky objects before us.
"Those are the chests that disappeared from the bank at Blyth," I whispered. "Now you understand?"
She gave me a quick, comprehending look.
"Then we are in the hands of Netherfield Baxter?" she murmured. "That man—there."
"Without a doubt," I answered. "And the thing is—show no fear."
"I'm not a scrap afraid," she answered. "It's exciting! And—he's rather interesting, isn't he?"
"Gentlemen of his kidney usually are, I believe," I replied. "All the same, I should much prefer his room to his company."
Baxter just then came over to us, rubbing from his fingers the soil which had gathered on them from handling the chests. He smiled politely, with something of the air of a host who wants to apologise for the only accommodation he can offer.
"Now, Miss Raven," he said, with an accent of almost benevolent indulgence, "as we shall be obliged to inflict our hospitality upon you for a day or two—I hope it won't be for longer, for your sake—let me show you what we can give you in the way of quarters to yourself. We can't offer you the services of a
