Joe was not in the least changed. Wherever he had been, in whatever nefarious transactions he had been engaged, he was still the mahogany-colored, tough old sailor whom nothing could surprise or alarm. After having greeted Lestrange he hitched up his trousers in true nautical style and touched his forehead.

"You wished to see me, sir," he said to Alan, and took a sidelong glance at the Captain. That polished scoundrel had, for once, lost his coolness, and, colorless with rage, was glaring at the seaman like a devil.

"Joe," said the squire, as soon as he could take in the situation, "you are making a mistake."

"Not me, sir! I knows a shark when I sees one."

"But this is Captain Achille Lestrange."

"Curse me if he is!" cried Joe vigorously. "Achille weren't no captain. This one's a captain right enough, and a blazing fine lobster he is! Jean's his name, sir, but he ain't a Scotch girl, for all that. No, it's the French lingo for John."

"I am Achille Lestrange," persisted the Captain, very shrill and very short of breath. "This man is a liar!"

"Say that again, and I'll knock the teeth down your throat!" growled Joe, like an angry mastiff. "Achille be blowed! I know'd you twenty year ago in the islands, I did, and a bad lot you were then. Jean Lestrange--why, there never was a wuss lot! I never did think much of Achille, for all his money; but you----"

Joe spat to show his disgust.

"Then this man is not Sophy's father?" gasped Alan.

"Oh, he sez that, does he, the lubber? Missy's father! Why, he ain't fit to be her shoeblack!"

"Achille was the girl's father," said Lestrange sullenly. He saw that it was useless to lie in face of Joe's positive knowledge. "And if I'm not her father, I'm her uncle."

"That's a d----d lie!" put in Joe. "You weren't no more nor Achille's cousin. What you are to missy, I don't know. But she won't have nothing to do with you, you landshark!"

"Joe, do you mean to say your late master is not Sophy's father?"

"I do, sir. It's got to come out somehow, if only to put a stop to that devil's pranks. She's the daughter of Achille Lestrange."

"Who was murdered by Marlow!" finished the Captain savagely. "Ah, my friends, I have still some cards left."

"You'll have no teeth left!" growled Joe, making a step forward. "You're a liar, Captain Jean--you always was! Mr. Marlow----"

"Beauchamp," corrected Lestrange, with a glance at Alan.

"Beauchamp it is," continued Brill coolly. "Oh, you needn't be afeared that I'm going to lie! But Mr. Beauchamp never stabbed Munseer Achille, and you know it, you lubber! Let me get at him, Mr. Thorold!"

"No, no, Joe!" Alan kept the irate seaman back. "We'll deal with this gentleman in a better fashion. Sit down, Joe, while we talk it over."

Joe nodded, and sat down on a chair, which he placed directly before the door.

With a glare that showed he noticed and resented this action, Lestrange resumed his seat. He was too clever a man not to recognize that Joe's cunning would dislocate his plans. But he was evidently determined to fight to the last. At present he held his tongue, for he wanted to hear what Joe would say. He preferred, for the moment, to remain strictly on the defensive.

It was with a thankful heart that Alan Thorold realized the value of Joe as an ally. At one time he had really believed that Lestrange was truly Sophy's father, and although she would never have admitted the relationship, still it was satisfactory to know that the man had no claim on her obedience. The knowledge of Lestrange's falsehood cleared the air somewhat. For one thing, it proved conclusively that the Captain had come to blackmail the girl. His claim to be her father was doubtless made in the hope that she would accompany him back to Jamaica, and would give him control of her money. Failing this--and Lestrange had long since realized that there was no doing anything with Sophy in a paternal way--there remained the chance that, to preserve Marlow's memory from stain, she might buy his silence.

Thus Lestrange argued, and Alan, with his eyes on the man's expressive face, guessed his thoughts and answered them.

"No, Lestrange," he said, with decision, "you won't get one penny."

"We shall see about that," was the rejoinder.

"Of course. We are going to see about it now. You will be brought to your bearings, sir. Joe, you say that this man is Jean Lestrange?"

"Yes, sir. But may I ask, Mr. Thorold, how you know about the shark?"

"I have heard the story from his own lips, Joe. He claimed to be Achille Lestrange and Miss Sophy's father."

"Did he, now, the swab! and you know, sir, how Mrs. Lestrange ran away to Mr. Beauchamp from the way her husband treated her?"

"I know----"

"Achille treated Zelia well," interrupted the Captain; "only too well."

"That's another lie!" retorted Joe. "He was fond-like of her the first year they were married, but it was you, Captain Jean, who made a mess of them. You made him jealous of Mr. Beauchamp, and he treated her crool. No wonder she ran away, poor lass!"

"Did the way Achille treated Zelia give Beauchamp any right to murder him?"

"He didn't murder him. You know he didn't."

"He did, I say. Achille was found stabbed to the heart on the veranda of Beauchamp's house. Zelia was dead, and your master took the child away to his yacht at Falmouth. You were on board."

"Yes," said Joe coolly, "I wos; and it wos well for you, Captain Jean, that I wasn't near the house that same evening. I'd ha' wrung your neck, I would! Anyhow, master didn't kill Munseer Achille."

"There was a warrant out for his arrest, however."

"I know that, Captain Jean, and it was you who got it out. And I know as you came over here after master from seeing his picter in the papers. We both knowed you were coming, Captain Jean."

Alan interposed:

"Was that the West Indian letter, Joe?"

"Yes, sir, it was. Master got a letter from a friend of his in Jamaica telling him this swab was after him to say as he'd murdered Munseer Achille, which," added Joe, deliberately eyeing Lestrange, "is a d----d lie!"

"Then who ki............