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Mind, you've sworn to keep the whole affair secret." Mr. Chalk screwed up his features in anxious perplexity, but made no comment. "The weather's fine," continued Tredgold, "and there's nothing gained by delay. On Wednesday we'll take the train to Biddlecombe and have a look round.
His countenance cleared as they neared Biddlecombe, and, the line running for some distance by the side of the river, he amused himself by gazing at various small craft left high and dry by the tide. A short walk from the station brought them to the mouth of the river which constitutes the harbour of Biddlecombe. For a small port there was a goodly array of shipping, and Mr.
To the eyes of Mr. Chalk and his wife Biddlecombe appeared to have put on holiday attire for the occasion. With smiling satisfaction they led the way to the ferry, Mrs. Chalk's costume exciting so much attention that the remainder of the party hung behind to watch Edward Tredgold fasten his bootlace.
The day was fine, with just a touch of crispness in the air to indicate the waning of the year, and, despite a position regarded by the gloomy Mr. Duckett as teeming with perils, the captain turned a bright and confident eye on the Fair Emily, anchored in the harbour. "We ought to have gone straight to Biddlecombe," said Mr. Duckett, following his glance; "it would have looked better.
"It's a ship," repeated Captain Bowers, sternly, as he sought in vain to meet the eye of Mr. Chalk; "a craft of two hundred and something tons. For some reason best known to himself Mr. Chalk wants the matter kept secret." "It it isn't my secret," faltered Mr. Chalk. "Where's she lying?" said Captain Bowers. Mr. Chalk hesitated. "Biddlecombe," he said, at last.
Tredgold's eye over the top of it, sniffed more loudly than before. "Have you told Edward that you are going to sea?" inquired Mr. Chalk, leaning over to Tredgold. "Certainly not," was the reply; "I don't want anybody to know till the last possible moment. You haven't given your wife any hint as to why you are going to Biddlecombe to-day, have you?" Mr. Chalk shook his head.
"And mind, Peter," said Captain Brisket to his friend, as the pair strolled along by the harbour after their principals had departed, "the less you say about this the better. We don't want any Biddlecombe men in it." "Why not?" inquired the other. "Because," replied Brisket, lowering his voice, "there's more in this than meets the eye.
"She'll be all right in time," repeated the captain; "and after all, you know," he added, with gentle severity, "you deserve to suffer a little. You had no business with that map." On a fine afternoon towards the end of the following month Captain Brisket and Mr. Duckett sat outside the Swan and Bottle Inn, Holemouth, a small port forty miles distant from Biddlecombe.
Owing partly to lack of appetite and partly to the face which Mr. Stobell pressed to the window every other minute to entice him out, he made but slow progress. The matter was discussed next day as they journeyed down to Biddlecombe with Mr. Tredgold to complete the purchase of the schooner, the views of the latter gentleman coinciding so exactly with those of Mr. Stobell that Mr.
Mind, you've sworn to keep the whole affair secret." Mr. Chalk screwed up his features in anxious perplexity, but made no comment. "The weather's fine," continued Tredgold, "and there's nothing gained by delay. On Wednesday we'll take the train to Biddlecombe and have a look round.
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