By this time it was almost September, and asters were beginning to bloom in the garden and the hollyhocks were almost gone.  Wecanicut was turning the dry, russetty color that it does late in the summer, and the harbor seemed bluer every day.  Captain Moss took us out in the Jolly Nancy one afternoon just for kindness—­we didn’t hire her at all.  She is a sixteen-footer and quite fast, in spite of being rather broad in the beam.  He let each of us steer her and told us a great many names of things on her, which I forgot immediately.  Jerry always remembers things like that and can talk about reef-cringles and topping-lift as if he really knew what they were for.  We went quite far out and saw the Sea Monster from a different side in the distance, and tacked down to the other end of Wecanicut under the Fort guns.

It was when we got in from the gorgeous sail, with Greg carrying the little basket all made of twisted-up rope Captain Moss had done for him, that we found a big, square envelope lying on the hall table.  And, to our despair, supper was just ready and we couldn’t read the letter till afterward.  Supper was good, I must admit,—­baked eggs, all crusty and buttery on top, and muffins, and cherry jam.  We ate hugely, because of the Jolly Nancy making us so hungry.

When we’d finished we went into Father’s study, where he wasn’t, and turned on the desk-light and got at the letter.  I read it, while the boys crouched about expectantly.  Here it is: 

  Dear Comrades: 

I should have answered your frantic appeals for news of me long since, had I not been slavishly occupied in carrying out the demands of the Man of Torture from whom I am now completely released, praises be.  I am even contemplating escape from Bluar Boor by stealth.  But no doubt you have no desire for these modern details and are all agog to find out whether or not I met a wretched death at the bottom of the sea.  I think you left me—­or I left you—­with a soft and hideous something resting upon my shoulder.

Sirs, it was a Hand, a webbed hand, and turning, I looked straight down into another pair of flat dark eyes.  They belonged to a creature not as tall as I, and certainly not human in shape.  Arms and legs it had, of a sort, and scales, also, and finny spines, and a soft slimy body.  Then, through the door which led to the silver street, I saw more of the creatures, and more,—­a soft, hurrying crowd patting over the ingot blocks which paved the road, peering in at the door, beckoning with webby fingers.

My helmet smothered the cry I gave as I struggled against the horrible resistance of the water toward the door.  Out in the street the mer-crowd surrounded me, fingered my arms, looking at me with unfathomable, disc-like eyes, black as ink.  With dawning comprehension it came over me that these creatures inhabited the desolate, sea-filled city, lived in the mighty golden halls