that the pirate would never let any one try again. Then I also have it on the very best evidence that Clegg's hair was gray, and had been gray since quite a young man; so that does away with your black, close-cropped hair. And again I have it that Clegg would never permit his ears to be pierced for brass rings, affirming that they were useless lumber for a seaman to carry."
"Don't you think," said the squire, "that all this was a clever dodge to avoid discovery?"
"A disguise?" queried the captain. "Yes, I confess that the same thing occurred to me."
"And might I ask how you managed to obtain your real description of Clegg?" asked the vicar.
"At first," said the captain, "from second or third sources; but the other day I got first-hand evidence from a man who had served aboard Clegg's ship, the Imogene. That ugly-looking rascal who was helping Bill Spiker carry the rum-barrel. The bo'sun questioned him for upward of three hours in his queer lingo, and managed to arrive, by the nodding and shaking of the man's head, at an exact description of him tallying with mine and yours" (glancing at Doctor Syn).
"He was one of Clegg's men?" said the vicar, amazed.
"Then pray, sir, what is he doing in the royal navy?"
"I use him as tracker," replied the captain. "You know, some of these half-caste mongrels, mixtures of all the bad blood in the Southern Seas, have remarkable gifts of tracking. It's positively uncanny the way this
