?"

"Mr. Collingwood," I answered, somewhat embarrassed, "certainly would
not have said it if it hadn't been true."

"Well, it fairly beat me," said Farrell, staring. "And it beats me
again, now you confirm it. Searching for _me_?--Why? You couldn't
have guessed there was money in it."

"It may sound strange to you, sir," said I pretty icily; "but I took
that fancy into my head neither for your _beaux yeux_ nor for profit.
Moreover, if you don't understand without my help, I'll be shot if I
can provide you with an explanation that won't strike you as wildly
foolish. . . . However, if you must know, the thought of a
fellow-creature marooned on that island, and of the bare chance that
he might yet be alive to be rescued, had been preying on my mind ever
since I heard Foe's tale, and parted with his friendship on account
of it. Also it may appear extravagant, but through that old
friendship I felt a sort of personal responsibility, as if Jack had
left his trespass in my keeping. . . . But why discuss all this?
You're back, safe and sound, and the trip is off. When Jephson has
finished unpacking, he'll step over to Cockspur Street and pay
forfeit for the two berths."

"_Two_ berths?"

"Jephson was going with me. I fancy he looked forward to the
adventure, and is a trifle disappointed this morning."

Farrell nodded to show that he understood. Yet he seemed to be
considering something else, and kept his eyes fixed on me in a queer
way.

"Sir Roderick," he said, after a pause, "your arrangements are all
made for this voyage?"

"Oh, yes," said I. "Your turning up like this is quite a small
nuisance in its way. I'd arranged with my lawyers, arranged with my
bankers, let my flat here furnished from the first of next month
(_that's_ the worst), taken out letters and passport, made my will,
stored my few bits of spare plate. Last week I spent down in
Warwickshire, clewing up the loose tackle, holding heart-to-heart
conversations with Collingwood and my steward. Collingwood's my
neighbour down there, you know, and will help to look after things."

Farrell considered all this, slowly. "Excuse me, Sir Roderick," said
he, "but is there no chance of your going back to your intention and
re-packing?"

"Why on earth should I?" was my very natural question.

"Why, it's like this, sir," said Farrell, "--and now I'll come to the
real reason that brought me yesterday. My real reason was a matter
of business. . . .