The Press., 1892-06-23
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 have often been amused, when read ing stories told in the first person. to see how the narrator makes himself out. as a matter of course. to be perfect and spot less man. All around may have their passions and weaknesses and vices, but he remains cold and blameless nonen- tity, running like colorless thread through the tangled skein of the story 1 shall not fall into this error. l see my self as 1 was in those days, shallow hearted, hot headed and with little prin- ciple of any kind Such was. and such 1 depict myself
 From the time that finally identified our visitor Digby with Achille Wolff, the diamond robber. my resolution was taken Some might have been squeam- ish in the matter. and thought that be- cause he had shaken their hand and broken their bread he had earned some sort of grace from them. l was not troubled with sentimentality of this sort Hewas a criminal escaping from justice. Some providence had thrown him into our hands, and an enormous reward awaited his betrayers. Inever hesitated for a moment as to what was to be done.
 The more l thought of it the more admired the cleverness with which he had managed the whole business. It was clear that he had vessel ready, manned either by confederates or by unsuspecting fishermen. Hence he would be indepen- dent of all those parts where the police would be on the lookout for him. Again, if he had made for England or for Amer ca, he could hardly have escaped ultimate capture, but by choosing one of the most desolate and lonely spots in Europe he had thrown them off his track for time, while the destruction of the brig seemed to destroy the last clew to his where abouts. At present he was entirely at our mercy. since he could not move from the island without our help There was no necessity for us to hurry, therefore. and we could mature our plans at our leisure.
 But my father and showed no change in our manner toward our guest, and he himself was as cheery and light hearted as ever It was pleasant to hear him singing as we mended the nets or calked the boat. His voice was a very high tenor and one of the most melodious ever listened to. l am convinced that he could have made name upon the operatic stage, but like most versatile scoundrels he placed small account upon the genuine talents which he possessed and cultivated the worst portion of his nature. My father used sometimes to eye him sideways in strange manner, and thought knew what he was think ing about-but there made mistake. One day, about a week after our con versation, was fixing up one of the rails of our fence, which had been snapped in the gale. when my father came along the seashore,. plodding heavily among the pebbles. and sat down on stone at my elbow. went on knocking in the nails, but looked at him from the corner of my eyes as he pulled away at his short black pipe could see that he had something weighty on his mind. for he knitted his brows and his lips projected.
 Dye mind what was in yon paper?' he said at last. knocking his ashes out against the stone.
 l "Yes," ! answered shortly.
 Well, what's your opeenionI" he asked.
 Why, that we should have the re- ward. of course!" replied.
 1.-The rew:trd!' he said with 8 fierce snarl. You would talk the reward You'd let the stane that's worth thoo- sands an thoosands gang ava back tae some turin Papist, an a for the sake O few pund that they'd fling till ye, as they fling bane to dog when the meats a gone. It's q clean flingin awa O the gifts O Providence
 "Well, father" l said, laying down the hammer, ''you must be satisfied with what you can get. You can only have what is offered"
 "But if we got the stane itsel'," whis- i pered my father, with leer on his face.
 "He'd never give it up" l said. .But if he deed while he's here-if he was suddenly"-
 "Drop it. father, drop itr' cried, for the old man looked like fiend out of the pit saw now what he was aiming at.
 eff he deed," he shouted, "wha saw him come, and wha wad speer where he'd ganged till? If an accident hap pened, if he came by a duel on the heia, or woke soine nicht to find a knife at his trapple, wha wad be the wiser!"
 ''You mustn't speak so, father" l said, though was thinking many things at the same time.
 ''It may as well be oot as in" he an- swered, and went away rather snlkily, turning around after a few yards and holding up his finger toward me to inn press the necessity of caution.
 My father did not speak of this mat ter to me again, but what he said ranked in my mind. could hardly realize that he meant his words, for he had always, as far as knew, been an upright, right eous man, hard in his ways and grasp ing in his, nature. but guiltless of any great sin. Perhaps it was that he was removed from temptation, for isother- nal lines of crime might be drawn on the map through places where 1t is hard to walk straight, and there are others where it is as hard to fall. It was easy to be saint in the Island of Uffa.
 One day we were finishing breakfast when our guest asked if the boat was mended lone of the tholepins had been