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Nice way o' going on, and me at 'ome all alone by myself, slaving and slaving to keep things respectable!" "It wasn't me," reiterated the unfortunate. "When I called out to you," pursued the unheeding Mrs. Henshaw, "you started and pulled your hat over your eyes and turned away. I should have caught you if it hadn't been for all them carts in the way and falling down.
What McTee knew must be familiar to White Henshaw, yet Henshaw could not know, for if he did, the ringleaders would be instantly clapped into irons. Once or twice he looked down from his work to Kate and McTee. They still leaned at the rail, talking seriously. And McTee was saying: "I have learned what I want to know. Every detail of the plot is in my hands.
"No, I cannot understand it," Morriston replied, as he turned and began to ascend the winding stairway. On the threshold of the topmost floor he paused. "This is the door we found locked on the inside," he observed quietly. Henshaw gave a keen look round, and nodded. Morriston pushed open the door and they entered.
Several features were his own suggestion, among others the idea of presenting a petition for better food to Henshaw, and beating him down while he was reading it; but all the time that the Irishman spoke, he was thinking of Kate. When the crew turned into their bunks at last, he went over a thousand schemes in his head.
Have you any idea, however far-fetched, as to what really may have happened?" Kelson shook his head. "None. Except I must say he looked to me the last man who would do such an act." "I should think so," Henshaw returned decidedly. Then he addressed himself to Gifford. "I must ask you, sir, the same question." "And I can give you no more satisfactory answer," Gifford said.
"What, you've come back?" she said, in a low, intense voice. "Well, of all the impudence! How dare you carry on like this?" "It's me," said her husband. "Yes, I see it is," was the reply. "It's him right enough; it's your husband," said Mr. Stokes. "Alfred Bell has gone." "How dare you stand there and tell me them falsehoods!" exclaimed Mrs. Henshaw.
Henshaw laughed intriguingly. "There are certain things that don't find their way into the Press," he said meaningly. "The real story in this case may turn out to be one of them." Eager as he was, Gifford resolved to show no further curiosity. "You know best," he rejoined almost casually. "But I hope for the Morristons' sake the mystery will be soon satisfactorily cleared up."
Having finally satisfied themselves as to the cause of the stains on the floor and sofa, the chief constable and his subordinate proposed to go to the lake and see whether the men who were dragging it had had any success. Morriston and Henshaw with Kelson and Gifford accompanied them.
Billy found it there later, and as she picked it up her eyes fell on a single name in Marie's handwriting inscribed half a dozen times as if the writer had musingly accompanied her thoughts with her pen; and the name was, "Marie Henshaw." For a moment Billy stared at the name perplexedly then in a flash came the remembrance of Marie's words; and Billy breathed: "Henshaw! the man BERTRAM!"
After a short time a big, red-faced, soot-be-grimed man appeared, saying as he reached them: "If Offut will come this way I will talk with him." "Henshaw," said the clerk simply, returning to his work, leaving the newcomer to attend to the visitors as he thought best. "Ha ha!" laughed young Offut, softly, as he followed the foreman, "where are you now, Jack North?"
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