ps
for another. Anyhow, it seems it was high time for Railton to go
somewhere, for besides the references to liquor, which tally with
Simon's words upon Dead Man's Rock, we also meet with the ominous
words 'the fuss,' wherein, Jasper, I find the definite article not
without meaning."

Uncle Loveday was beaming with conscious pride in his own powers of
penetration. He acknowledged my admiring attention with a modest
wave of the hand, and then proceeded to clear his throat
ostentatiously, as one about to play a trump card.

"As I say, Jasper, this fellow must have had some purpose to drag him
off to sea from an office stool--some strong purpose, and, from what
we know of the man, some ungodly purpose. Now, the question is, What
was it? On the Rock, as you say, he charged John Railton with having
a certain Will in his possession. Your father started from England
with a Will in his possession. This is curious, to say the
least--very curious; but I do not see how we are to connect this with
the man Simon's sudden taste for the sea, for, you know, he could not
possibly have heard of Amos Trenoweth's Will."

"You and aunt were the only people father told of it."

"Quite so; and your father (excuse me, Jasper) not being a born fool,
naturally didn't cry his purpose about the streets of Plymouth when
he took his passage. Still, it's curious. Your father sailed from
Plymouth and this pair of rascals sailed from Plymouth--not that
there's anything in that; hundreds sail out of the Sound every week,
and we have nothing to show when Simon and John started--it may have
been before your father. But look here, Jasper, what do you make of
that?"

I bent over the letter, and where my uncle's finger pointed, read,
"He says as you have Done Well to be . . . _Wave_."

"Well, uncle?"

"Well, my boy; what do you make of it?"

"I can make nothing of it."

"No? You see that solitary word '_Wave_'?"

"Yes."

"What was the ship called in which your father sailed?"

"The _Golden Wave_."

"That's it, the _Golden Wave_. Now, what do you make of it?"

My uncle leaned back in his chair and looked at me over his
spectacles, with the air of one who has played his trump card and
watches for its effect. A certain consciousness of merit and
expectancy of approbation animated his person; his reasoning
staggered me, and he saw it, nor was wholly displeased.
After waiting some time for my reply, he added--

"Of course I may