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ten minutes' conversation with him found that he fitted so perfectly into their

scheme of action that they would not hear of Simms' releasing him.

Ward had little use for the Frenchman, whose haughty manner and

condescending airs grated on the sensibilities of the uncouth and boorish first

officer. The duty which necessitated him acting in the capacity of Theriere's

servant was about as distasteful to him as anything could be, and only served to

add to his hatred for the inferior, who, in the bottom of his heart, he knew to be

in every way, except upon the roster of the Halfmoon, his superior; but money

can work wonders, and Divine's promise that the officers and crew of the

Halfmoon would have a cool million United States dollars to divide among them in

case of the success of the venture had quite effectually overcome any dislike

which Mr. Ward had felt for this particular phase of his duty.

The two officers sat in silence in their room at the hotel awaiting an answer to the

note they had dispatched to Anthony Harding, Esq. The parts they were to act

had been carefully rehearsed on board the Halfmoon many times. Each was

occupied with his own thoughts, and as they had nothing in common outside the

present rascality that had brought them together, and as that subject was one

not well to discuss more than necessary, there seemed no call for conversation.

On board the yacht in the harbor preparations were being made to land a small

party that contemplated a motor trip up the Nuuanu Valley when a small boat

drew alongside, and a messenger from the hotel handed a sealed note to one of

the sailors.

From the deck of the Halfmoon Skipper Simms witnessed the transaction, smiling

inwardly. Billy Byrne also saw it, but it meant nothing to him. He had been lolling

upon the deck of the brigantine glaring at the yacht Lotus, hating her and the

gay, well-dressed men and women he could see laughing and chatting upon her

deck. They represented to him the concentrated essence of all that was

pusillanimous, disgusting, loathsome in that other world that was as far

separated from him as though he had been a grubworm in the manure pile back

of Brady's livery stable.

He saw the note handed by the sailor to a gray-haired, smooth-faced man--a

large, sleek, well-groomed man. Billy could imagine the white hands and polished

nails of him. The thought was nauseating.

The man who took and opened the note was Anthony Harding, Esq. He read it,

and then passed it to a young woman who stood near-by talking with other young

people.

The Mucker