Nott paused before the door, under the pretense of throwing the light before him into the shadows of the forecastle:  all was silent within.  He was turning back when he was impressed by the regular recurrence of a peculiar rustling sound which he had at first referred to the rubbing of the wires of the swinging lantern against his clothing.  He set down the light and listened; the sound was evidently on the other side of the partition; the sound of some prolonged, rustling, scraping movement, with regular intervals.  Was it due to another of Mr. Nott’s unprofitable tenants—­the rats?  No.  A bright idea flashed upon Mr. Nott’s troubled mind.  It was De Ferrieres snoring!  He smiled grimly.  “Wonder if Rosey’d call him a gentleman if she heard that,” he chuckled to himself as he slowly made his way back to the cabin and the small state-room opposite to his daughter’s.  During the rest of the night he dreamed of being compelled to give Rosey in marriage to his lodger, who added insult to the outrage by snoring audibly through the marriage service.

Meantime, in her cradle-like nest in her nautical bower, Miss Rosey slumbered as lightly.  Waking from a vivid dream of Venice—­a child’s Venice—­seen from the swelling deck of the proudly-riding Pontiac, she was so impressed as to rise and cross on tiptoe to the little slanting port-hole.  Morning was already dawning over the flat, straggling city, but from every counting-house and magazine the votive tapers of the feverish worshipers of trade and mammon were still flaring fiercely.

II.

The day following “steamer night” was usually stale and flat at San Francisco.  The reaction from the feverish exaltation of the previous twenty-four hours was seen in the listless faces and lounging feet of promenaders, and was notable in the deserted offices and warehouses still redolent of last night’s gas, and strewn with the dead ashes of last night’s fires.  There was a brief pause before the busy life which ran its course from “steamer day” to steamer day was once more taken up.  In that interval a few anxious speculators and investors breathed freely, some critical situation was relieved, or some impending catastrophe momentarily averted.  In particular, a singular stroke of good fortune that morning befell Mr. Nott.  He not only secured a new tenant, but, as he sagaciously believed, introduced into the Pontiac a counteracting influence to the subtle fascinations of De Ferrieres.

The new tenant apparently possessed a combination of business shrewdness and brusque frankness that strongly impressed his landlord.  “You see, Rosey,” said Nott, complacently describing the interview to his daughter, “when I sorter intimated in a keerless kind o’ way that sugar kettles and hair dye was about played out ez securities, he just planked down the money for two months in advance.  ‘There,’ sez he, ‘that’s your security—­now where’s mine?’