And once started out of my indolence I
went, as my habit was, very, very far away and for a long, long time.
Which is another proof of my indolence. How far Flora went I can't say.
But I will tell you my idea: my idea is that she went as far as she was
able--as far as she could bear it--as far as she had to . . . "

PART II--THE KNIGHT

CHAPTER ONE--THE FERNDALE

I have said that the story of Flora de Barral was imparted to me in
stages. At this stage I did not see Marlow for some time. At last, one
evening rather early, very soon after dinner, he turned up in my rooms.

I had been waiting for his call primed with a remark which had not
occurred to me till after he had gone away.

"I say," I tackled him at once, "how can you be certain that Flora de
Barral ever went to sea? After all, the wife of the captain of the
_Ferndale_--" the lady that mustn't be disturbed "of the old
ship-keeper--may not have been Flora."

"Well, I do know," he said, "if only because I have been keeping in touch
with Mr. Powell."

"You have!" I cried. "This is the first I hear of it. And since when?"

"Why, since the first day. You went up to town leaving me in the inn. I
slept ashore. In the morning Mr. Powell came in for breakfast; and after
the first awkwardness of meeting a man you have been yarning with over-
night had worn off, we discovered a liking for each other."

As I had discovered the fact of their mutual liking before either of
them, I was not surprised.

"And so you kept in touch," I said.

"It was not so very difficult. As he was always knocking about the river
I hired Dingle's sloop-rigged three-tonner to be more on an equality.
Powell was friendly but elusive. I don't think he ever wanted to avoid
me. But it is a fact that he used to disappear out of the river in a
very mysterious manner sometimes. A man may land anywhere and bolt
inland--but what about his five-ton cutter? You can't carry that in your
hand like a suit-case.

"Then as suddenly he would reappear in the river, after one had given him
up. I did not like to be beaten. That's why I hired Dingle's decked
boat. There was just the accommodation in her to sleep a man and a dog.
But I had no dog-friend to invite. Fyne's dog who saved Flora de
Barral's life is the last dog-friend I had. I was rather lonely cruising
about; but that, too, on the river has its charm, sometimes. I chased
the mystery of the vanishing Powell dreamil