and Melbourne?"

"No; your son said that, Mr. Upton, and it was his one mistake. They
don't usually touch, but a son of one of the owners happens to have gone
round in the ship to Plymouth for the trip. I got it first from an old
boatswain of the line who's caretaker at the office, and the only man
there, of course, yesterday afternoon; but I've since bearded one of the
partners at his place down the river, and had the statement confirmed and
amplified. One or two pasengers are only going aboard at Plymouth, so she
certainly won't sail again before to-morrow noon, even if she's there by
then. You will be in ample time to board her--and I've got a sort of
search-warrant from the partner I saw--if you go down by the 12.15 from
Paddington to-night."

The ironmaster asked no more questions; that was good enough for him, he
said, and went off to tell a last lie to his wife, with the increasing
confidence of one gradually mastering the difficulties of an uncongenial
game. He felt also that a happy issue was in sight, and after that he
could tell the truth and liberate his soul. He was pathetically sanguine
of the solution vicariously propounded by Eugene Thrush, and prepared to
rejoice in a discovery which would have filled him with dismay and chagrin
if he had not been subconsciously prepared for something worse. It never
occurred to Mr. Upton to question the man's own belief in the theory he
had advanced; but Lettice did so the moment she had the visitor to herself
in the smoking-room, where it fell to her to do certain honours _vice_
Horace, luckily engaged at the works. "And do you believe this astounding
theory, Mr. Thrush?"

Thrush eyed her over his tumbler's rim, but completed his draught before
replying.

"It's not my province to believe or to disbelieve, Miss Upton; my job is
to prove things one way or the other."

"Then I'll tell you just one thing for your guidance: my brother is
absolutely incapable of the conduct you ascribe to him between you."

Thrush did not look as though he were being guided by anybody or anything,
beyond the dictates of his own appetites, as he sat by the window of the
restaurant car, guzzling new potatoes and such Burgundy as could be had in
a train. But he was noticeably less garrulous than usual, and his
companion also had very little to say until the train was held up
inexplicably outside Willesden, when he began to fume.

"I never knew such a thing on this line before,"