captain and his companion at one of the tables. Jernam acknowledged
their courtesy with a friendly nod.

"I don't mind standing treat for a civil fellow like you," he said;
"come, mates, what do you say to a bowl of punch?"

The men looked at him and grinned a ready assent.

Valentine Jernam called the landlord, and ordered a bowl of rum-punch.

"Plenty of it, remember, and be sure you are not too liberal with the
water," said the captain.

The landlord nodded and laughed. He was a broad-shouldered,
square-built man, with a flat, pale face, broad and square, like his
figure--not a pleasant-looking man by any means.

Valentine Jernam folded his arms on the rickety, liquor-stained table,
and took a leisurely survey of the apartment.

There was a pause in the concert just now. The girl had finished her
song, and sat by the old square piano, waiting till she should be
required to sing again. There were only two performers in this
primitive species of concert--the girl who sang, and an old blind man,
who accompanied her on the piano; but such entertainment was quite
sufficient for the patrons of the 'Jolly Tar', seven-and-twenty years
ago, before the splendours of modern music-halls had arisen in the
land.

Valentine Jernam's dark eyes wandered round the room, till they lighted