smile.

"I feel extremely obliged to you, Morrison," he said. "You have a way
of keeping your engagements that I find most satisfactory."

Tommy laughed. "I had a bit of luck," he returned. "If I hadn't picked
up our pal here I doubt if I should have got down in time after all.
By the way, there's no need to introduce you. You've met each other
before at the hut, haven't you?"

Latimer, who was just lighting a cigar which I had offered him, paused
for a moment in the operation.

"Yes," he said quietly. "We have met each other before. But I should
rather like to be introduced, all the same."

Something in his manner struck me as being a trifle odd, but if Tommy
noticed it he certainly didn't betray the fact.

"Well, you shall be," he answered cheerfully. "This is Mr. James
Nicholson."

Latimer finished lighting his cigar, blew out the match, and dropped
it carefully over the side.

"Indeed," he said. "It only shows how extremely inaccurate one's
reasoning powers can be."

There was a short but rather pregnant pause. Then Tommy leaned
forward.

"What do you mean?" he asked, in that peculiarly gentle voice which he
keeps for the most unhealthy occasions.

Latimer's face remained beautifully impassive. "I was under the
mistaken impression," he answered slowly, "that I owed my life to Mr.
Neil Lyndon."

For perhaps three seconds none of us spoke; then I broke the silence
with a short laugh.

"We are up against it, Thomas," I observed.

Tommy looked backwards and forwards from one to the other of us.

"What shall we do?" he said quietly. "Throw him in the river?"

"It would be rather extravagant," I objected, "after we've just pulled
him out."

Latimer smiled. "I am not sure I don't deserve it. I have lied to you,
Morrison, all through in the most disgraceful manner." Then he paused.
"Still it _would_ be extravagant," he added. "I think I can convince
you of that before we get to Queenborough."

Tommy throttled down the engine to about its lowest running point.

"Look here, Latimer," he said. "We're not going to Queenborough, or
anywhere else, until we've got the truth out of you. You understand
that, of course. You've put yourself in our power deliberately, and
you must have some reason. One doesn't cut one's throat for fun."

He spoke in his usual pleasant fashion, but there was a grim
seriousness behind it which no one could pretend to misunderstand.
Latimer, at all events, made no attempt to. He