Eurotas_," it concluded, "and go aboard to-night. She's a new ship,
owned by a new line, of which you may or may not have heard--the
'Southern Cross Line.' We hear enough about it in this town, the
Company having contrived to fall foul of the dock labour here.
I don't know the rights or wrongs of it, but some sort of boycott is
threatened. However, this sort of dispute usually gets itself
settled at the last moment; and anyhow I shall get to Sydney by some
means or other. So you may safely mail there. No need to cable.
I have plenty of money for immediate purposes."

"What had I best do?" asked Norgate. "Lloyd's are about giving the
_Eurotas_ up."

"Cable out and make sure," said I. "If he calls at the Bank, he
calls; and if he doesn't, there are no bones broken. _Something_ has
gone wrong with the ship; and in the mix-up he may easily have lost
his ready cash and be landed at Sydney without a cent."

I should have told you that, about a fortnight before this, Jimmy had
solved, or partially solved, the puzzle of that entry "Mr. and Mrs.
P. Farrell" on the passenger-list. Jimmy had found a good girl, and
as pretty almost as she was good, and yet imprudent enough to consent
to marry him. This had the effect of rendering him at once and
surprisingly prudent. As the poet puts it, "he had found out a flat
for his fair," and as he himself put it, "We have heard the chimes at
midnight, Master Shallow: but be-shrew me, we never thought of making
my bank-manager one of the party, to break him in to our ways;
the consequence being that Elinor's maid will have to stick a
bedroom-suite priced five-pounds-ten, while the other domestics,
unless dividends improve, sleep (poor souls, insecurely) upon
bedsteads liable to be spirited from under them at any moment by a
Hire System that knows no bowels. . . . By George!" sighed Jimmy.
"If we hadn't let Farrell slip through our fingers! Do you know,
Otty, I've an idea," he announced. "Why shouldn't I take the
Tottenham Court Road to-morrow, visit Farrell's old place of
business, and kill two birds with one stone?"

"It sounds a sporting proposition," I agreed, "though sketchily
presented."

"Adumbrated," suggested Jimmy. "That's a good word. I found it in
yesterday's _Observer_."

"Adumbrated, then," said I. "The Tottenham Court Road--"

"--_And_ two birds with one stone. No moors for me this year: I'm
back on the simple life and the catapult. . . . You just wait