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8 so out-of-the-way as this, an additional guest would be eagerly welcomed.

"Then where can I go?" she asked. "When does the boat go back?"

"The boat she stays here all night, ma'am. First trip to-morrow morning, 6:37 A.M."

The youth began to sharpen a pencil as though he had dismissed Joan's case completely.

"But I must sleep somewhere!" she expostulated. "Do you know of any boarding-house in the village, any place where they might take me in?"

The clerk sighed and let himself out of his enclosure. He led the way to the door and pointed down the wharf.

"See that old feller sitting on them boxes, ma'am?" he said. "Well, that's 'Bijah Dawson. He knows everything about everybody in town, and if there's a place where you could sleep, he'd know it. Call him Captain and he'll do anything for you. You're welcome, ma'am."

Joan caught up her bag and went down the pier again.

"Is this Captain Dawson?" she inquired of a brown and grizzled old skipper who sat