re, oppressed with suspicions, ordered his horse that
afternoon, and rode down to see the cottage which the owner of "Purfoy
Stores" had purchased. He found it a low white building, situated four
miles from the city, at the extreme end of a tongue of land which ran
into the deep waters of the harbour. A garden carefully cultivated,
stood between the roadway and the house, and in this garden he saw a man
digging.

"Does Mrs. Purfoy live here?" he asked, pushing open one of the iron
gates.

The man replied in the affirmative, staring at the visitor with some
suspicion.

"Is she at home?"

"No."

"You are sure?"

"If you don't believe me, ask at the house," was the reply, given in the
uncourteous tone of a free man.

Frere pushed his horse through the gate, and walked up the broad and
well-kept carriage drive. A man-servant in livery, answering his ring,
told him that Mrs. Purfoy had gone to town, and then shut the door in
his face. Frere, more astonished than ever at these outward and visible
signs of independence, paused, indignant, feeling half inclined to enter
despite opposition. As he looked through the break of the trees, he saw
the masts of a brig lying at anchor off the extremity of the point on
which the house was built, and understood that the cottage commanded
communication by water as well as by land. Could there be a special
motive in choosing such a situation, or was it mere chance? He was
uneasy, but strove to dismiss his alarm.

Sarah had kept faith with him so far. She had entered upon a new and
more reputable life, and why should he seek to imagine evil where
perhaps no evil was? Blunt was evidently honest. Women like Sarah
Purfoy often emerged into a condition of comparative riches and domestic
virtue. It was likely that, after all, some wealthy merchant was
the real owner of the house and garden, pleasure yacht, and tallow
warehouse, and that he had no cause for fear.

The experienced convict disciplinarian did not rate the ability of John
Rex high enough.

From the instant the convict had heard his sentence of life banishment,
he had determined upon escaping, and had brought all the powers of his
acute and unscrupulous intellect to the consideration of the best method
of achieving his purpose. His first care was to procure money. This he
thought to do by writing to Blick, but when informed by Meekin of the
fate of his letter, he adopted the--to him--less pleasant alternative of
procurin