little enough inclined for sleep. He drew up
his battered chair to the window, threw it open, and sat looking
out. The bridge and the river were alike silent now. The sky signs
had gone, the murky darkness blotted out the whole scene, against
which the curving arc of lights shone with a fitful, ghostly light.
For a moment his fancy served him an evil trick. He saw the barge
with the blood-red sails. A cargo of evil beings thronged its side.
He saw their faces leering at him. Sabatini was there, standing at
the helm, calm and scornful. There was the dead man and Isaac,
Groves the butler, Fenella herself--pale as death, her hands
clasping at her bosom as though in pain. Arnold turned, shivering,
away; his head sank into his hands. It seemed to him that poison had
crept into those dreams.

CHAPTER XVIII

DISCUSSING THE MYSTERY

At precisely half-past nine the next morning, Mr. Weatherley entered
his office in Tooley Street. His appearance, as he passed through
the outer office, gave rise to some comment.

"The governor looks quite himself again," young Tidey remarked,
turning round on his stool.

Mr. Jarvis, who was collecting the letters, nodded.

"It's many months since I've heard him come in whistling," he
declared.

Arnold, in the outer office, received his chief's morning salutation
with some surprise. Mr. Weatherley was certainly, to all appearance,
in excellent spirits.

"Glad to see your late hours don't make any difference in the
morning, Chetwode," he said, pleasantly. "You seem to be seeing
quite a good deal of the wife, eh?"

Arnold was almost dumbfounded. Any reference to the events of the
preceding evening was, for the moment, beyond him. Mr. Weatherley
calmly hung up his silk hat, took out the violets from the
button-hole of his overcoat and carried them to his desk.

"Come along, Jarvis," he invited, as the latter entered with a
rustling heap of correspondence. "We'll sort the letters as quickly
as possible this morning. You come on the other side, Chetwode, and
catch hold of those which we keep to deal with together. Those Mr.
Jarvis can handle, I'll just initial. Let me see--you're sure those
bills of lading are in order, Jarvis?"

Mr. Jarvis plunged into a few particulars, to which his chief
listened with keen attention. For half an hour or so they worked
without a pause. Mr. Weatherley was quite at his best. His
instructions were sage, and his grasp of every detail referred to in