air was soft and balmy, and a faint haze hung over the water,
smoothing and blurring the sharp outlines of the buildings of the
town and turning the opposite bank into a gray smudge. Not a
breath was stirring, and the water lay like plate glass, unbroken
by the faintest ripple. The spirit of adventure was high in the
two men as they pulled down the great avenue of burnished gold
stretching westwards towards the sinking sun.

The tide was flowing, and but slight effort was needed to keep
them moving up-stream. As darkness grew they came nearer inshore,
until in the fading light they recognized the railway station at
Hassle. There they ceased rowing, drifting slowly onwards until
the last faint haze of light had disappeared from the sky.

They had carefully muffled their oars, and now they turned north
and began sculling gently inshore. Several lights had come out,
and presently they recognized the railway signals and cabin at
the distillery sidings.

"Two or three hundred yards more," said Hilliard in low tones.

They were now close to the beach, and they allowed themselves to
drift on until the dark mass of the wharf loomed up ahead. Then
Hilliard dipped his oars and brought the boat silently alongside.

As they had imagined from their distant view of it, the wharf was
identically similar in construction to that on the River Lesque.
Here also were the two lines of piles like the letter V, one, in
front vertical, the other raking to support the earthwork behind.
Here in the same relative position were the steps, and to these