I then entered on board of a man-of-war, under the name of O’Connor, was put on the quarter-deck, and by great good fortune have risen to the station in which I now am.  That is my secret—­not that I care about its being divulged, now that I have found my wife.  I did nothing to disgrace myself before I entered on board of a man-of-war, but having changed my name, I do not wish it to be known that I ever had another until I can change it again on a fitting opportunity.  Now, Mr. Saunders, will you execute my message?”

“Most joyfully, Sir James; and I now can do it with proper caution; by to-morrow morning I will be down here with Mrs. St. Felix.”

“You must post the whole way, as hard as you can, there and back, Mr. Saunders.  Here is some money,” said he, thrusting a bundle of notes in my hand, “you can return me what is left.  Good-by, and many, many thanks.”

“But where shall I meet you, sir?”

“Very true; I will be at the King’s Arms Hotel, Chatham.”

I lost no time.  As soon as the boat put me on shore, I hired a chaise, and posted to Greenwich, where I arrived about half-past nine o’clock.  I dismissed the chaise at the upper end of the town, and walked down to Mrs. St. Felix’s.  I found her at home, as I expected, and to my great delight the doctor was not there.

“Why, Mr. Pilot, when did you come back?” said she.

“But this minute—­I come from Chatham.”

“And have you been home?”

“No, not yet; I thought I would come and spend the evening with you.”

“With me!  Why, that’s something new; I don’t suppose you intend to court me, do you, as the doctor does?”

“No, but I wish that you would give me some tea in your little back parlor, and let Jane mind the shop in the meantime.”

“Jane’s very busy, Mr. Tom, so I’m afraid that I can’t oblige you.”

“But you must, Mrs. St. Felix.  I’m determined I will not leave this house till you give me some tea; I want to have a long talk with you.”

“Why, what’s in the wind now?”

“I’m not in the wind, at all events, for you see I’m perfectly sober; indeed, Mrs. St. Felix, I ask it as a particular favor.  You have done me many kindnesses, now do oblige me this time; the fact is, something has happened to me of the greatest importance, and I must have your advice how to act; and, in this instance, I prefer yours to that of any other person.”

“Well, Tom, if it really is serious, and you wish to consult me, for such a compliment the least I can do is to give you a cup of tea.”  Mrs. St. Felix ordered Jane to take the tea things into the back parlor, and then to attend in the shop.

“And pray say that you are not at home, even to the doctor.”

“Well, really the affair looks serious,” replied she, “but it shall be so if you wish it.”

We took our tea before I opened the business, for I was thinking how I should commence:  at last I put down my cup, and said, “Mrs. St. Felix, I must first acquaint you with what is known to no one here but myself.”  I then told her the history of old Nanny; then I went on to Spicer’s recognition of the spy-glass—­his attempt to murder his mother, the consequences, and the disclosure on his deathbed.