"Joseph," said Miss Vickers, as she squeezed a wet cloth into her pail--
"Joseph's got a nice leg. It's healing very slow."

The captain, halting by the kitchen door, said he was sorry to hear it.

"Though there's worse things than bad legs," continued Miss Vickers,
soaping her scrubbing-brush mechanically; "being lost at sea, for
instance."

Captain Bowers made no reply. Adopting the idea that all roads lead to
Rome, Miss Vickers had, during her stay at Dialstone Lane, made many
indirect attempts to introduce the subject of the treasure-seekers.

"I suppose those gentlemen are drowned?" she said, bending down and
scrubbing noisily.

The captain, taking advantage of her back being turned towards him, eyed
her severely. The hardihood of the girl was appalling. His gaze
wandered from her to the bureau, and, as his eye fell on the key sticking
up in the lid, the idea of reading her a much-needed lesson presented
itself. He stepped over the pail towards the bureau and, catching the
girl's eye as she looked up, turned the key noisily in the lock and
placed it ostentatiously in his pocket. A sudden vivid change in
Selina's complexion satisfied him that his manoeuvre had been
appreciated.

"Are you afraid I shall steal anything?" she demanded, hotly, as he
regained the kitchen.

The captain quailed. "No," he said, hastily. "Somebody once took a