It was the perusal of this list that had suggested to the quick and ingenious mind of the solicitor a scheme not difficult of execution, the very thought of which made his heart beat quick with anticipation. Carew shrank from the peril of forging cheques or letters of instructions to Allen's bankers; but now that he knew exactly how the barrister's account stood, a simpler and safer method of appropriating to himself a large proportion at least of the dead man's fortune occurred to him.

Said this accomplished scoundrel to himself: "I have here a stout, seaworthy boat, that can easily take me across the Atlantic. I will ship a crew in Rotterdam, and sail for Buenos Ayres. By selling the watch and chain and one or two other little things I shall have enough money to buy stores and pay all other expenses of the voyage. Once in Buenos Ayres, I will go to the agent of the —— Bank. There is sure to be one. I will show him my papers. I will prove to his satisfaction that I am Arthur Allen, barrister-at-law, owner of the yacht Petrel. I will explain that I have run short of money, and require a considerable sum at once. The agent will telegraph to the bank, learn that I have there securities to a large amount, and then he will be ready to advance to me as much as I want; and I will want a good deal. I will say that I am about to buy land, or tell some such plausible tale, get my money, and away. Oh, most excellent plan! Who on earth is likely to suspect that the yachting barrister is no other than Henry Carew, the defaulting solicitor?"

He steered the vessel towards the Dutch coast, and soon the wind fell so much that he was able to shake out all his reefs.

At ten he passed through a large fleet of fishing boats that were riding to their nets. He hailed an English smack, asking her skipper if he could tell him his position.

"You'll get hold of the land in an hour or so," shouted the man; "and, as you are going now, you'll about fetch Goeree."

Carew, after consulting the chart, steered in a more northerly direction. At midday he saw the loom of the land ahead of him; so, as the sky was clear, he brought up the sextant and took an observation of the sun, thus ascertaining his exact position.

"Lucky it is that I taught myself navigation," he thought; "it will come in useful now."

At last he could plainly distinguish the features of the coast, which was low and flat, with white sand-hills here and there that gleamed like snow in the sunshine.

Then he saw a steeple, a lighthouse, and a group of cottages, with bright red roofs, and he knew that he was off the village of Scheveningen, which is a few miles to the north of the Maas. Sailing to the southward, he soon reached the mouth of the river, and at once some of the ever-watchful pilots pulled off to him in a small boat.

Carew hove the yacht to, and waited for them. The boat was soon alongside. Four little old men, all fat and rosy, were in her. One who understood English well was the spokesman. Standing up in the stern he shouted—