again, one after another, all those eighteen cases marked. _Shannon,_
which he had filled with gold dust, and then, heating a sailor's needle
red-hot over his burning wick, he put his own secret marks on those
eighteen cases--marks that no eye but his own could detect. By this time,
though a very powerful man, he felt much exhausted and would gladly have
snatched an hour's repose. But, consulting his watch by the light of his
lantern, he found the sun had just risen. He retired to his place of
concealment in the same cat-like way he had come out of it--that is to
say, he mounted on the high cases, and then slipped down behind them,
into the angle of the wall.

As soon as the office opened, two sailors, whom he had carefully
instructed overnight, came with a boat for the cases; the warehouse was
opened in consequence, but they were informed that Wylie must be present
at the delivery.

"Oh, he won't be long," said they; "told us he would meet us here."

There was a considerable delay, and a good deal of talking, and presently
Wylie was at their back, and put in his word.

Seaton was greatly surprised at finding him there, and asked him where he
had sprung from.

"Me!" said Wylie, jocosely, "why, I hailed from Davy Jones's locker
last."

"I never heard you come in," said Seaton, thoughtfully.

"Well, sir," replied Wylie, civilly, "a man does learn to go like a cat