[Illustration:  “Bella, in a state of fearsome glee, came down the garden to tell the captain of his visitor.”]

“Who?” said the latter, sharply, as he straightened his aching back.

“Young Mr. Hardy,” said Bella, impressively.  “I showed ’im in; I didn’t ask ’im to take a chair, but he took one.”

“Young Hardy to see me!” said the captain to his daughter, after Bella had returned to the house.  “How dare he come to my house?  Infernal impudence!  I won’t see him.”

“Shall I go in and see him for you?” inquired Kate, with affected artlessness.

“You stay where you are, miss,” said her father.  “I won’t have him speak to you; I won’t have him look at you.  I’ll——­”

He beat his dirty hands together and strode off towards the house.  Jem Hardy rose from his chair as the captain entered the room and, ignoring a look of black inquiry, bade him “Good afternoon.”

“What do you want?” asked the captain, gruffly, as he stared him straight in the eye.

“I came to see you about your son’s marriage,” said the other.  “Are you still desirous of preventing it?”

“I’m sorry you’ve had the trouble,” said the captain, in a voice of suppressed anger; “and now may I ask you to get out of my house?”

Hardy bowed.  “I am sorry I have troubled you,” he said, calmly, “but I have a plan which I think would get your son out of this affair, and, as a business man, I wanted to make something out of it.”

The captain eyed him scornfully, but he was glad to see this well-looking, successful son of his old enemy tainted with such sordid views.  Instead of turning him out he spoke to him almost fairly.

“How much do you want?” he inquired.

“All things considered, I am asking a good deal,” was the reply.

“How much?” repeated the captain, impatiently.

Hardy hesitated.  “In exchange for the service I want permission to visit here when I choose,” he said, at length; “say twice a week.”

Words failed the captain; none with which he was acquainted seemed forcible enough for the occasion.  He faced his visitor stuttering with rage, and pointed to the door.

“Get out of my house,” he roared.

[Illustration:  “‘Get out of my house,’ he roared.]

“I’m sorry to have intruded,” said Hardy, as he crossed the room and paused at the door; “it is none of my business, of course.  I thought that I saw an opportunity of doing your son a good turn—­he is a friend of mine—­and at the same time paying off old scores against Kybird and Nathan Smith.  I thought that on that account it might suit you.  Good afternoon.”

He walked out into the hall, and reaching the front door fumbled clumsily with the catch.  The captain watching his efforts in grim silence began to experience the twin promptings of curiosity and temptation.

“What is this wonderful plan of yours?” he demanded, with a sneer.