The shout and the anxiety together caused the very result that was dreaded.  The packet fell into the sea and sank, amid a volley of yells.

It went down slowly.  Before it had descended a fathom, Ruby’s head cleft the water, and in a moment he returned to the surface with the packet in his hand amid a wild cheer of joy; but this was turned into a cry of alarm, as Ruby was carried away by the tide, despite his utmost efforts to regain the beacon.

The boat was at once pushed off, but so strong was the current there, that Ruby was carried past the rock, and a hundred yards away to sea, before the boat overtook him.

The moment he was pulled into her he shook himself, and then tore off the outer covering of the packet in order to save the letters from being wetted.  He had the great satisfaction of finding them almost uninjured.  He had the greater satisfaction, thereafter, of feeling that he had done a deed which induced every man in the beacon that night to thank him half a dozen times over; and he had the greatest possible satisfaction in finding that among the rest he had saved two letters addressed to himself, one from Minnie Gray, and the other from his uncle.

The scene in the beacon when the contents of the packet were delivered was interesting.  Those who had letters devoured them, and in many cases read them (unwittingly) half-aloud.  Those who had none read the newspapers, and those who had neither papers nor letters listened.

Ruby’s letter ran as follows (we say his letter, because the other letter was regarded, comparatively, as nothing):—­

“ARBROATH, &c.

“DARLING RUBY,—­I have just time to tell you that we have made a discovery which will surprise you.  Let me detail it to you circumstantially.  Uncle Ogilvy and I were walking on the pier a few days ago, when we overheard a conversation between two sailors, who did not see that we were approaching.  We would not have stopped to listen, but the words we heard arrested our attention, so——­O what a pity! there, Big Swankie has come for our letters.  Is it not strange that he should be the man to take them off?  I meant to have given you such an account of it, especially a description of the case.  They won’t wait.  Come ashore as soon as you can, dearest Ruby.”

The letter broke off here abruptly.  It was evident that the writer had been obliged to close it abruptly, for she had forgotten to sign her name.

“‘A description of the case’; what case?” muttered Ruby in vexation.  “O Minnie, Minnie, in your anxiety to go into details you have omitted to give me the barest outline.  Well, well, darling, I’ll just take the will for the deed, but I wish you had——­”

Here Ruby ceased to mutter, for Captain Ogilvy’s letter suddenly occurred to his mind.  Opening it hastily, he read as follows:—­