“But that is all past; he is gone, and Miss Nott does not even know where he is!” said Renshaw, with a laugh, which, however, concealed a vague uneasiness.

Mr. Nott rose and opened the door carefully.  When he had satisfied himself that no one was listening, he came back and said in a whisper, “That’s a lie.  Not ez Rosey means to lie, but it’s a trick he’s put upon that poor child.  That man, Mr. Renshaw, hez been hangin’ round the Pontiac ever since.  I’ve seed him twice with my own eyes pass the cabin windys.  More than that, I’ve heard strange noises at night, and seen strange faces in the alley over yer.  And only jist now ez I kem in I ketched sight of a furrin-lookin’ Chinee nigger slinking round the back door of what useter be Ferrers’ loft.”

“Did he look like a sailor?” asked Renshaw quickly, with a return of his former suspicion.

“Not more than I do,” said Nott, glancing complacently at his pea-jacket.  “He had rings on his yeers like a wench.”

Mr. Renshaw started.  But seeing Nott’s eyes fixed on him, he said lightly, “But what have these strange faces and this strange man—­probably only a Lascar sailor out of a job—­to do with Ferrieres?”

“Friends o’ his—­feller furrin citizens—­spies on Rosey, don’t you see?  But they can’t play the old man, Mr. Renshaw.  I’ve told Rosey she must make a visit to the old Ranch.  Once I’ve got her thar safe, I reckon I kin manage Mr. Ferrers and any number of Chinee niggers he kin bring along.”

Renshaw remained for a few moments lost in thought.  Then rising suddenly, he grasped Mr. Nott’s hand with a frank smile but determined eyes.  “I haven’t got the hang of this, Mr. Nott—­the whole thing gets me!  I only know that I’ve changed my mind.  I’m not going to Sacramento.  I shall stay here, old man, until I see you safe through the business, or my name’s not Dick Renshaw.  There’s my hand on it!  Don’t say a word.  Maybe it is no more than I ought to do—­perhaps not half enough.  Only remember, not a word of this to your daughter.  She must believe that I leave to-night.  And the sooner you get her out of this cursed ship the better.”

“Deacon Flint’s girls are goin’ up in to-night’s boat.  I’ll send Rosey with them,” said Nott, with a cunning twinkle.  Renshaw nodded.  Nott seized his hand with a wink of unutterable significance.

Left to himself, Renshaw tried to review more calmly the circumstances in these strange revelations that had impelled him to change his resolution so suddenly.  That the ship was under the surveillance of unknown parties, and that the description of them tallied with his own knowledge of a certain Lascar sailor, who was one of Sleight’s informants—­seemed to be more than probable.  That this seemed to point to Sleight’s disloyalty to himself while he was acting as his agent, or a double treachery on the part of Sleight’s informants, was in either case a reason and an excuse for his own interference.