“Well, it be a cruel bad night to be sure,” the fisherman answered.  “Like as not we’d get the boat knocked about, an’ maybe have her riggin’ damaged.  We’ve been a-fresh paintin’ of her too, and that would be spoiled.  It’s a powerful long way, and then there’s the gettin’ back.  It means the loss of two or three days’ work, and there’s plenty of fish on the coast now, and a good market for them.”

“Would thirty pounds pay you?” asked Ezra.

The sum was considerably more than the fisherman would have ventured to ask.  The very magnificence of it, however, encouraged him to hope that more might be forthcoming.

“Five-and-thirty wouldn’t pay me for the loss and trouble,” he said; “forbye the damage to the boat.”

“Say forty, then,” said Ezra.  “It’s rather much to pay for a freak of this sort, but we won’t haggle over a pound or two.”

The old seaman scratched his head as though uncertain whether to take this blessing which the gods had sent or to hold out for more.

Ezra solved the matter by springing to his feet.  “Come on to Claxton, father,” he cried.  “We’ll get what we want there.”

“Steady, sir, steady!” the fisherman said hastily.  “I didn’t say as I wasn’t good for the job.  I’m ready to start for the sum you names.  Hurry up, Jarge, and get the tackle ready.”

The sea-booted youth began to bustle about at this summons, bearing things out into the darkness and running back for more with an alacrity which one would hardly have suspected from his uncouth appearance.

“Can I wash my hands?” asked Girdlestone.  There were several crimson stains where he had held the body of the murdered girl.  It appeared that Burt’s bludgeon was not such a bloodless weapon after all.

“There’s water, sir, in that bucket.  Maybe you would like a bit o’ plaster to bind up the cut?”

“It’s not bad enough for that,” said the merchant hastily.

“I’ll leave you here,” the fisherman remarked.  “There’s much to be done down theer.  You’ll have poor feedin’ I’m afraid; biscuits and water and bully beef.”

“Never mind that.  Hurry up all you can.”  The man tramped away down to the beach, and Ezra remained with his father in the hut.  The old man washed his hands very carefully, and poured the stained water away outside the door.

“How are you going to pay this man?” he asked.

“I have some money sewed up in my waistcoat,” Ezra answered.  “I wasn’t such a fool as not to know that a crash might come at any moment.  I was determined that all should not go to the creditors.”

“How much have you?”

“What’s that to you?” Ezra asked angrily.  “You mind your own affairs.  The money’s mine, since I have saved it.  It’s quite enough if I spend part of it in helping you away.”

“I don’t dispute it, my boy,” the old merchant said meekly.  “It’s a blessing that you had the foresight to secure it.  Are you thinking of making for France now?”