But before he did sail he gave the girl's father the
address of some scientific old swab who he thought would buy some
damned ebony or ivory carving that they wanted to sell. See?"

"I can see how it's coming out, Watson," replied his friend. "I know
of just such another----"

"Shut up. I'm not sitting here to listen to any yarns of yours, Tom
Craig. Well, as might have been expected, this old scientific fellow,
Colonel Maclean, takes a fancy to the girl and asks her to take the
billet of secretary to him. She took it--took it to help the old
father who was getting shakier and shakier every day, and wanted all
sorts of attention and nursing.

"I used to go and see them pretty frequently--at first just on account
of this young fellow Barry who I had taken a liking to, and then
because I liked the old man and the girl herself, whose voice was as
sweet as the note of a thrush. She used to talk to me about Barry and
made no secret of her loving him and all that.

"Well, one evening, I found she was in great trouble. Her father had
had a paralytic seizure, and there were a couple of swell doctors
attending him, and in the sitting-room was this old scientific bloke,
Colonel Maclean, twirling his moustache and saying how very distressed
he was and all that. He was mighty civil to me and took me down to
Pfahlert's Hotel, where we had a drink or two, and he told me that he
was deeply interested in Miss Maynard's welfare. Of course, I saw in a
moment what he was driving at, and tried to do my best for Barry,
saying that we (Miss Maynard and me) expected to see him back in a
month or two, when they would be married.

"'Oh, indeed,' says the swab, 'how very interesting! I know Mr. Barry
personally and have bought some very valuable ethnographical specimens
from him. _Good_-night, Mr.--er, Mr. Watson.'

"Well, the next time I called at Miss Maynard's rooms I found that she
and her father were gone--gone to Colonel Maclean's house, so the
landlady said. I footed it out there and asked to see her. She came
downstairs and met me, crying.

"'My father will never rise from his bed again, Mr. Watson,' she says,
'and I have promised to marry Colonel Maclean to-morrow. Here, take
this, please,' and she hands me this very identical letter which I've
just shown you, Tom. And married she was the very next day."

"It wasn't your fault, anyway, Sam," observed Mr. Craig, as he drank
off his brandy-and-soda.

"Who said it