“Tredgold, Stobell, and Chalk,” said Captain Bowers, very distinctly.

“I wanted to keep it secret until it had been repainted and done up,” continued Mr. Chalk, watching his wife’s face anxiously, “and then Captain Brisket came in and spoilt it.”

“That’s me, ma’am,” said the gentleman mentioned, shaking his head despairingly.  “That’s Bill Brisket all over.  I come blundering in, and the first thing I do is to blurt out secrets; then, when I try to smooth it over——­”

Mrs. Chalk paid no heed.  Alluding to the schooner as “our yacht,” she at once began to discuss the subject of the voyage, the dresses she would require, and the rival merits of shutting the house up or putting the servants on board wages.  Under her skilful hands, aided by a few suggestions of Captain Brisket’s, the Fair Emily was in the short space of twenty minutes transformed into one of the most luxurious yachts that ever sailed the seas.  Mr. Chalk’s heart failed him as he listened.  His thoughts were with his partners in the enterprise, and he trembled as he thought of their comments.

“It will do Mrs. Stobell a lot of good,” said his wife, suddenly.

Mr. Chalk, about to speak, checked himself and blew his nose instead.  The romance of the affair was beginning to evaporate.  He sat in a state of great dejection, until Captain Bowers, having learned far more than he had anticipated, shook hands with impressive gravity and took his departure.

The captain walked home deep in thought, with a prolonged stare at the windows of Tredgold’s office as he passed.  The present whereabouts of the map was now quite clear, and at the top of Dialstone Lane he stopped and put his hand to his brow in consternation, as he thought of the elaborate expedition that was being fitted out for the recovery of the treasure.

[Illustration:  “The captain walked home deep in thought.”]

Prudence, who was sitting in the window reading, looked up at his entrance and smiled.

“Edward Tredgold has been in to see you,” she remarked.

The captain nodded.  “Couldn’t he stop?” he inquired.

“I don’t know,” said his niece; “I didn’t see him.  I was upstairs when he came.”

Captain Bowers looked perturbed.  “Didn’t you come down?” he inquired.

“I sent down word that I had a headache,” said Miss Drewitt, carelessly.

Despite his sixty odd years the captain turned a little bit pink.  “I hope you are better now,” he said, at last.

“Oh, yes,” said his niece; “it wasn’t very bad.  It’s strange that I should have a headache so soon after you; looks as though they’re in the family, doesn’t it?”

Somewhat to the captain’s relief she took up her book again without waiting for a reply, and sat reading until Mr. Tasker brought in the tea.  The captain, who was in a very thoughtful mood, drank cup after cup in silence, and it was not until the meal was cleared away and he had had a few soothing whiffs at his pipe that he narrated the events of the afternoon.