t out with
it, and come back without it." The birds'-nesters had spoken: their
story seemed to be possibly connected with Clubin's disappearance, if
instead of ghosts they supposed smugglers. Finally, the haunted house of
Pleinmont itself had spoken. Persons who had determined to get
information had climbed and entered the windows, and had found
inside--what? The very travelling-bag which had been seen in Sieur
Clubin's possession. The authorities of the _Douzaine_ of Torteval had
taken possession of the bag and had it opened. It was found to contain
provisions, a telescope, a chronometer, a man's clothing, and linen
marked with Clubin's initials. All this in the gossip of St. Malo and
Guernsey became more and more like a case of fraud. Obscure hints were
brought together; there appeared to have been a singular disregard of
advice; a willingness to encounter the dangers of the fog; a suspected
negligence in the stowage of the cargo. Then there was the mysterious
bottle of brandy; a drunken helmsman; a substitution of the captain for
the helmsman; a management of the rudder, to say the least, unskilful.
The heroism of remaining behind upon the wreck began to look like
roguery. Clubin besides had evidently been deceived as to the rock he
was on. Granted an intention to wreck the vessel, it was easy to
understand the choice of the Hanways, the shore easily reached by
swimming, and the intended concealment in the haunted house awaiting the
opportunity for flight. The travelling-bag, that suspicious preparative,
completed the demonstration. By what link this affair connected itself
with the other affair of the disappearance of the coast-guardman nobody
knew. People imagined some connection, and that was all. They had a
glimpse in their minds of the look-out-man, number 619, alongside of the
mysterious Clubin--quite a tragic drama. Clubin possibly was not an
actor in it, but his presence was visible in the side scenes.

The supposition of a wilful destruction of the Durande did not explain
everything. There was a revolver in the story, with no part yet assigned
to it. The revolver, probably, belonged to the other affair.

The scent of the public is keen and true. Its instinct excels in those
discoveries of truth by pieces and fragments. Still, amidst these facts,
which seemed to point pretty clearly to a case of barratry, there were
serious difficulties.

Everything was consistent; everything coherent; but a basis was wanti