hat he attended the sale, knowing only that Carthew was to be
represented, but neither who was to represent him nor what were the
instructions given. I suppose Captain Wicks is a good life. In spite of
his personal appearance and his own known uneasiness, I suppose he is
secure from apoplexy, or it must have struck him there and then, as he
looked on at the stages of that insane sale and saw the old brig and her
not very valuable cargo knocked down at last to a total stranger for ten
thousand pounds.

It had been agreed that he was to avoid Carthew, and above all Carthew's
lodging, so that no connection might be traced between the crew and the
pseudonymous purchaser. But the hour for caution was gone by, and he
caught a tram and made all speed to Mission Street.

Carthew met him in the door.

"Come away, come away from here," said Carthew; and when they were clear
of the house, "All's up!" he added.

"O, you've heard of the sale, then?" said Wicks.

"The sale!" cried Carthew. "I declare I had forgotten it." And he told
of the voice in the telephone, and the maddening question: "Why did you
want to buy the _Flying Scud_?"

This circumstance, coming on the back of the monstrous improbabilities
of the sale, was enough to have shaken the reason of Immanuel Kant. The
earth seemed banded together to defeat them; the stones and the boys on
the street appeared to be in possession of their guilty secret. Flight
was their one thought. The treasure of the _Currency Lass_ they packed
in waistbelts, expressed their chests to an imaginary address in British
Columbia, and left San Francisco the same afternoon, booked for Los
Angeles.

The next day they pursued their retreat by the Southern Pacific route,
which Carthew followed on his way to England; but the other three
branched off for Mexico.

EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

TO WILL H. LOW

Dear Low,--The other day (at Manihiki of all places) I had the pleasure
to meet Dodd. We sat some two hours in the neat little toy-like church,
set with pews after the manner of Europe, and inlaid with
mother-of-pearl in the style (I suppose) of the New Jerusalem. The
natives, who are decidedly the most attractive inhabitants of this
planet, crowded round us in the pew, and fawned upon and patted us; and
here it was I put my questions, and Dodd answered me.

I first carried him back to the night in Barbizon when Carthew told his
story, and asked him what was done about Bellairs.