The door opened; and the bronzed face and sturdy figure of Wylie, clad in a rough pea-jacket, came slouching in.
Arthur went hastily to meet him, and gave him an expressive look of warning, even while he welcomed him in cordial accents.
"Glad to see you safe home," said Wardlaw senior.
"Thank ye, guv'nor," said Wylie.

"Had a squeak for it, this time." "Where is your ship ?" Wylie shook his head sorrowfully.

"Bottom of the Pacific." "Good heavens! What! is she lost ?" "That she is, sir.

Foundered at sea, twelve hundred miles from the Horn, and more." "And the freight?
the gold ?" put in Arthur, with well-feigned anxiety.
"Not an ounce saved," said Wylie, disconsolately.

"A hundred and sixty thousand pounds gone to the bottom." "Good heavens!" "Ye see, sir," said Wylie, "the ship encountered one gale after another, and labored a good deal, first and last; and we all say her seams must have opened; for we never could find the leak that sunk her," and he cast a meaning glance at Arthur Wardlaw.
"No matter how it happened," said the old merchant.