“The House of Tempin Brothers, of Berlin, has gone down.  The failure is said to be utterly disastrous, even the special deposits in the hands of the house having been used.  The House was a favorite with Americans, and the failure will inevitably produce great distress among those who are traveling for pleasure.  The house is said to have no assets, and the members are not to be found.”

Mr. Belcher’s “Anchor to windward” had snapped its cable, and he was wildly afloat, with ruin behind him, and starvation or immediate arrest before.  With curses on his white lips, and with a trembling hand, he cut out the item, walked to his state-room, and threw the record of his crime and shame out of the port-hole.  Then, placing the little excerpt in the pocket of his waistcoat, he went on deck.

There sat the happy passengers, wrapped in shawls, watching the setting sun, thinking of the friends and scenes they had left behind them, and dreaming of the unknown world that lay before.  Three or four elderly gentlemen were gathered in a group, discussing Mr. Belcher himself; but none of them knew him.  He had no part in the world of honor and of innocence in which all these lived.  He was an outlaw.  He groaned when the overwhelming consciousness of his disgrace came upon him—­groaned to think that not one of all the pleasant people around could know him without shrinking from him as a monster.

He was looking for some one.  A sailor engaged in service passed near him.  Stepping to his side, Mr. Belcher asked him to show him the captain.  The man pointed to the bridge.  “There’s the Cap’n, sir—­the man in the blue coat and brass buttons.”  Then he went along.

Mr. Belcher immediately made his way to the bridge.  He touched his hat to the gruff old officer, and begged his pardon for obtruding himself upon him, but he was in trouble, and wanted advice.

“Very well, out with it:  what’s the matter?” said the Captain.

Mr. Belcher drew out the little item he had saved, and said:  “Captain, I have seen this bit of news for the first time since I started.  This firm held all the money I have in the world.  Is there any possible way for me to get back to my home?”

“I don’t know of any,” said the captain.

“But I must go back.”

“You’ll have to swim for it, then.”

Mr. Belcher was just turning away in despair, with a thought of suicide in his mind, when the captain said:  “There’s Pilot-boat Number 10.  She’s coming round to get some papers.  Perhaps I can get you aboard of her, but you are rather heavy for a jump.”

The wind was blowing briskly off shore, and the beautiful pilot-boat, with her wonderful spread of canvass, was cutting the water as a bird cleaves the air.  She had been beating toward land, but, as she saw the steamer, she rounded to, gave way before the wind, worked toward the steamer’s track on the windward side, and would soon run keel to keel with her.