ion. One branch of our evidence contradicts the other; this
comes of trying to prove too much. You must say the log was lost, went
down with the ship."

"How can I?" cried Wylie. "I have told too many I had got it safe at
home."

"Why did you say that? What madness!"

"Why were you away from your office at such a time? How can I know
everything and do everything? I counted on you for the head-work ashore.
Can't ye think of any way to square the log to that part of our tale?
might paste in a leaf or two, eh?"

"That would be discovered at once. You have committed an irremediable
error. What broad strokes this Hudson makes. He must have written with
the stump of a quill."

Wylie received this last observation with a look of contempt for the mind
that could put so trivial a question in so great an emergency.

"Are you quite sure poor Hudson is dead?" asked Wardlaw, in a low voice.

"Dead! Don't I tell you I saw him die!" said Wylie, trembling all of a
sudden.

He took a glass of brandy, and sent it flying down his throat.

"Leave the paper with me," said Arthur, languidly, "and tell Penfold I'll
crawl to the office to-morrow. You can meet me there; I shall see nobody
else."

Wylie called next day at the office, and was received by Penfold, who had
now learned the cause of Arthur's grief, and ushered the visitor in to
him with looks of benevolent concern. Arthur was seated like a lunatic,
pale and motionless; on the table before him was a roast fowl and a
salad, which he had forgotten to eat. His mind appeared to alternate
between love and fraud; for, as soon as he saw Wylie, he gave himself a
sort of shake and handed Wylie the log and the papers.

"Examine them; they agree better with each other now."

Wylie examined the log, and started with surprise and superstitious
terror. "Why, Hiram's ghost has been here at work!" said he. "It is his
very handwriting."

"Hush!" said Wardlaw; "not so loud. Will it do?"

"The writing will do first-rate; but any one can see this log has never
been to sea."

Inspired by the other's ingenuity, he then, after a moment's reflection,
emptied the salt-cellar into a plate, and poured a little water over it.
He wetted the leaves of the log with this salt water, and dog's-eared the
whole book.

Wardlaw sighed. "See what expedients we are driven to," said he. He then
took a little soot from the chimney, and mixed it with salad oil. He
applied some of this mixture to the parch