shouldn't a man fix up comfortable quarters for his wife if he could afford it? And with that Mr Peabody began to think about this wife that he hadn't seen. By Jove! he must make a point of having a look at her as soon as possible. A question to her would solve his problem about Taylor. And then a feeling of helplessness came over him. Supposing he did not see her! Mrs Northbrook had never left her cabin. Oh, this was awful! What could he do? Whom could he consult?

The first bugle for dinner put an end to his imaginings. He decided to change at once, so that he could have a ginand-bitters in the smokingroom before going down to the saloon.

He had ordered his drink, but the steward had not yet brought it when Mr Taylor entered the smoking-room. He looked well in a dinner-jacket, lean and brown and slightly grizzled. He went to the bar and gave an order, and then glanced round the room. His eye lit on Mr Peabody sitting alone at his small table. He smiled, and came forward. "Do you mind if I join he said in his pleasant voice. "My name is Taylor. I think we met down below this afternoon."

you?

"Please do," replied Mr Peabody. "Won't you join me in a drink? The steward is just bringing me one."

"Thanks very much," returned the other, "but I have

Dinner that night was a cheerful meal. Mr Peabody had managed to get himself placed at the same table as the pretty young lady whose acquaintance he had made in the train, and he found her company very much to his liking. Up to this time he had not come across many Colonials, and he found Miss Harrison's interest in him, as an Englishman, very pleasant. His doubts about Mr Taylor had also to a large extent been set at rest by that gentleman's straightforward friendliness, and he felt that to harbour suspicions against one who was obviously of his own class would be unworthy of so staunch a Conservative as himself. And yet, when he glanced across the saloon to the table where Mr Taylor was sitting and noticed the empty place beside him, he could not help his mind dwelling a little on the wife who should have filled it. He would ask Mr Taylor about her afterwards, he re

flected. But, as it turned out, he did not have a chance of doing so, for he was inveigled into a rubber of bridge by his fascinating companion, and was kept, a not unwilling captive, at her side until nearly eleven o'clock.

"Now for a whisky-and-soda and a pipe before I turn in," he thought when Miss Harrison and her father had at length retired for the night. He turned his steps towards the bar.

The smoking-room was almost deserted, but Mr Taylor and the ship's surgeon were at a table in the corner, and glanced up as he entered.

"Come and join us in a last drink," cried the former. "You know the surgeon, Mr Peabody."

"I

“Good - evening," said Mr Peabody, sitting down. know a friend of yours, I think: Dr Costello, who was on the Ursa Major last trip."

"Oh yes, young Michael Costello," answered the doctor. "I know him well. A clever youngster. He was a couple of years junior to me in college. I saw him the other day in town."

"Yes," said Mr Peabody. "I saw him, too. He told me to be sure to look you up."

"What will you have, Peabody?" put in Mr Taylor, signalling to the steward, "whisky-and-soda ? "

"Thanks," said Mr Peabody, and continued, "Where have you been all evening? I haven't seen you since dinner."

“I've been down below with

my wife," replied Mr Taylor. "She isn't feeling too fit." He glanced at the doctor.

"I'm sorry," said Mr Peabody politely, but with a sinking sensation at his heart. “I hope it is nothing serious."

66

Oh no," answered the other lightly, but with an anxious expression on his face," nothing to worry about. She's not a very good sailor, I'm afraid, and, though goodness knows it's calm enough now, she is nervous about herself. As a matter of fact, I got the surgeon here to give me a bit of medicine for her to make her sleep, and I stayed with her until she went off, for I don't like leaving her alone."

Mr Peabody said nothing, but fear had gripped his heart. What should he do? Should he get up now, make some excuse, and go to Taylor's cabin and warn the unfortunate woman before it was too late? Should he tell the surgeon all he knew, and enlist his help ?

He picked up his glass, and, under cover of drinking, glanced searchingly at his companions. They were chatting calmly, apparently unconscious of anything amiss. Doubt assailed him once again. Damn it! This thing was impossible. Taylor would be incapable of such a thing. He finished his drink. The others had finished theirs. Mr Taylor got up to go.

"Well," he said, "I must be off. I don't want to disturb my wife. I think I'll turn in while she is still under the

Mr Peabody had by this time, through constant repetition, acquired a masterly technique in the presentation of his evidence, and the doctor, at first inclined to be restless and a little peevish, soon became an interested listener. He nodded his head approvingly over Michael Costello's deductions, seemed inclined to be superior on the matter of Inspector Thesiger, and non-committal on the subject of Dr MacCormick; but when the fact that there was a real John Northbrook of Windsor, Ontario, living in London was revealed, he declared himself definitely on the side of Mr Peabody. It was at this point that a knock came at the door. Both the inmates of the cabin started guiltily.

"Come in," called out the doctor in rather a shaky voice. A quartermaster entered, taking off his cap as he did so.

66

"Beg pardon, sir," he said, but there's been a man badly scalded in the engine-room, and Mr Simpson says could you please come at once."

"Oh, hell!" grumbled the surgeon. "I suppose I'll have to go. Stay here, Peabody, like a good chap. I must have the rest of the story. It is the most extraordinary series of coincidences. I shan't be long."

“But you haven't heard the really important part yet," cried Mr Peabody, springing from his seat in his agitation. He had been too intent on a dramatic climax to hint, up to

on

Left to himself, Mr Peabody was unable to keep still. He felt that he must do something. The responsibility of a human life was upon his shoulders, and he seemed to be powerless. He got up and paced the little cabin like a caged beast. Outside, the hooting of the steamers in the fog sounded mournfully, and from time to time there was a spatter of spray on the glass of the closed porthole. The surgeon's cabin was "C" Deck, low down and near the water. Ever and anon there came from above the roar of the siren. He puffed furiously at cigarette after cigarette. Wouldn't the doctor ever come? God! He must do something. Perhaps even now while he was waiting here a tragedy was being enacted on the other side of the same deck. What was this ridiculous fear of making a fool of himself that kept him from dashing off to Taylor's cabin and seeing for himself? He started for the door. His hand was on the handle when a vision

of Taylor, as he had seen him in the smoking-room, cool, selfpossessed, quietly solicitous about his wife, came to his mind. He turned back into the room with a groan. What an ass he was! A hysterical ass. He flung himself into a chair and tried to be calm.

re

Presently the surgeon turned. He looked pale and tired. "I'm sorry I was so long," he said. "The poor devil was very badly scalded." He sat down heavily, and helped himself to a drink. Mr Peabody tried to murmur something sympathetic, but he was too eager to get rid of his own troubles to keep away from the subject for more than a moment. "I'll tell you the rest of my story now," he jerked out. "I want your advice so much that I can't wait."

"All

The surgeon sighed. right; go ahead," he murmured.

In rapid sentences Mr Peabody traced the further progress of his investigations. The innocence of Dr MacCormick, the chance encounter with the red-faced man, its upshot in the search for Taylor, and his own hasty decision to see the thing through regardless of the inconvenience and expense. By the time he had finished he had worked himself again into a fever of impatience.

"And now," he cried, "here I am, helpless as a baby, while that devil may be murdering the unfortunate woman and cutting her in pieces. What ought I to do, doctor? For

God's sake, what ought I to do?" He started up from the chair in his exasperation, and began to pace the floor.

"Calm yourself, old boy," said the surgeon quietly.

"Calm myself!" repeated Mr Peabody. "How the devil can I calm myself? Don't you see the awful position I am in, knowing all that I do?"

66

That's just the point," said the other soothingly. "What do you know, after all? You have no sort of proof that Northbrook killed his wife; in fact the balance of opinion is greatly against it. And you have no proof that Taylor is the same man as Northbrook -come now, have you? After all, it is not so uncommon for women of that age to be nervous and depressed, and-"

Good God!" cried Mr Peabody, starting up again from the chair in which he had seated himself. "Good God! Did he tell that to you, too?

66

"Steady, Peabody," said the surgeon quietly, laying his hand on the other's arm. Yes, as a matter of fact, that is, more or less, what he told me, and it is true, too. I saw the lady myself, and she is depressed and dull. But the change of air on this voyage will soon set her right again. Now do try and be sensible, old chap."

"Sensible," ejaculated Mr Peabody. "How can you talk of being sensible in a crisis like this? I can't stand it. I've got to go and see for myself."

He made for the door. The