“You won’t see any octopuses,” said her husband.  “You needn’t worry about them.”

He got up from the table, and crossing to the window stood with his hands behind his back, smoking one of the “King of Hanover’s” cigars.

“Very good smoke this,” he said, taking the cigar from his mouth and inspecting it critically.  “I think I’ll take a box or two with me.”

“Just what I was thinking,” said Mr. Jasper Tredgold.  “Let’s go down and see the landlord.”

Mr. Stobell followed him slowly from the room, leaving Mr. Chalk and Edward to entertain the ladies.  The former gentleman, clad in a neat serge suit, an open collar, and a knotted necktie, leaned back in his chair, puffing contentedly at one of the cigars which had excited the encomiums of his friends.  He was just about to help himself to a little, more champagne when Mr. Stobell, reappearing at the door, requested him to come and give them the benefit of his opinion in the matter of cigars.

“They don’t seem up to sample,” he said, with a growl; “and you’re a good judge of a cigar.”

Mr. Chalk rose and followed him downstairs, where, to his great astonishment, he was at once seized by Mr. Tredgold and led outside.

“Anything wrong?” he demanded.

“We must get to the ship at once,” said Tredgold, in an excited whisper. “The men!”

Mr. Chalk, much startled, clapped his hands to his head and spoke of going back for his hat.

“Never mind about your hat,” said Stobell, impatiently; “we haven’t got ours either.”

He took Mr. Chalk’s other arm and started off at a rapid pace.

“What is the matter?” inquired Mr. Chalk, looking from one to the other.

“Message from Captain Brisket to go on board at once, or he won’t be answerable for the consequences,” replied Tredgold, in a thrilling whisper; “and, above all, to bring Mr. Chalk to quiet the men.”

Mr. Chalk turned a ghastly white.  “Is it mutiny?” he faltered.  “Already?”

[Illustration:  “‘Is it mutiny?’ he faltered.”]

“Something o’ the sort,” said Stobell.

Despite his friend’s great strength, Mr. Chalk for one moment almost brought him to a standstill.  Then, in a tremulous voice, he spoke of going to the police.

“We don’t want the police,” said Tredgold, sharply.  “If you’re afraid, Chalk, you’d better go back and stay with the ladies while we settle the affair.”

Mr. Chalk flushed, and holding his head erect said no more.  Mr. Duckett and a waterman were waiting for them at the stairs, and, barely giving them time to jump in, pushed off and pulled with rapid strokes to the schooner.  Mr. Chalk’s heart failed him as they drew near and he saw men moving rapidly about her deck.  His last thoughts as he clambered over the side were of his wife.

In blissful ignorance of his proceedings, Mrs. Chalk, having adjusted her cap in the glass and drawn on her gloves, sat patiently awaiting his return.  She even drew a good-natured comparison between the time spent on choosing cigars and bonnets.