returning to Wapping, and somehow my interview had inspirited me. I took a sanguine view of my chances, for all my words to Pye. Moreover, I have always been interested in my fellow-creatures, and, finally, I was in the mood for a glass of something. Enters this trio, then, into the "Three Tuns" presently, and sits to a table in comfortable chairs, with the clatter of the street falling, like rain, on the senses, and the bright flare of gas among the dark barrels. There was about the place an odour of good-fellowship and of peace that pleased me who had not visited these haunts for years. 

 Little Pye turned his pince-nez on me as the attendant advanced. 

 "What'll you have, doctor?" he asked. 

 I hesitated. 

 "I suppose it must be port," said I; "port is more palatable and no more noxious in such places than any other wine." 

 "Any port in a storm, in fact," said the little man, looking at me quizzically. 

 "For my part——" said Holgate, in his stuffy, fat voice. 

 "Port, you should say," interposed Pye with brisk wit. He smiled at his smartness and his eyes seemed to challenge me to respond. 

 "There's nothing to beat spirits—and sound rum for choice, but as they won't have it here, I'll take brandy," continued the third officer. 

 He lighted a cigar and began to smoke, examining everything within eyeshot attentively but with indifference. I think, except for the first glance he had bestowed upon me, that he had completely ignored my presence. 

 Little Pye put up his glass. "I drink," said he, "to a prosperous voyage, Mr. Holgate, and to pleasant companions." 

 "Prosperous voyage," said the third officer wheezily, and I murmured something to the same effect. 

 "You say the old man's velvet," said Holgate, resuming his puffing. 

 "Well," said Pye, beaming through his glasses, "I wouldn't go so far as to say it, but he looks it. He looks kid-glove." 

 "I hate 'em," growled Holgate. "I've seen that kind on the ferry—all airs and aitches, and 

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