Somers, in which I set forth the whole
matter as clearly as I could, not blinking the dangerous nature of our
undertaking. In conclusion, I asked him whether he thought it wise to
allow his only son to accompany such an expedition, mainly because of a
not very serious quarrel with himself.

As no answer came to this letter I went on with our preparations.
There was money in plenty, since the re-sale of "O. Pavo" to Sir Joshua
Tredgold, at some loss, had been satisfactorily carried out, which
enabled me to invest in all things needful with a cheerful heart. Never
before had I been provided with such an outfit as that which preceded us
to the ship.

At length the day of departure came. We stood on the platform at
Paddington waiting for the Dartmouth train to start, for in those days
the African mail sailed from that port. A minute or two before the train
left, as we were preparing to enter our carriage I caught sight of
a face that I seemed to recognise, the owner of which was evidently
searching for someone in the crowd. It was that of Briggs, Sir
Alexander's clerk, whom I had met in the sale-room.

"Mr. Briggs," I said as he passed me, "are you looking for Mr. Somers?
If so, he is in here."

The clerk jumped into the compartment and handed a letter to Mr. Somers.
Then he emerged again and waited. Somers read the letter and tore off a
blank sheet from the end of it, on which he hastily wrote some words. He
passed it to me to give to Briggs, and I could not help seeing what was
written. It was: "Too late now. God bless you, my dear father. I hope
we may meet again. If not, try to think kindly of your troublesome and
foolish son, Stephen."

In another minute the train had started.

"By the way," he said, as we steamed out of the station, "I have heard
from my father, who enclosed this for you."

I opened the envelope, which was addressed in a bold, round hand that
seemed to me typical of the writer, and read as follows:

"My Dear Sir,--I appreciate the motives which caused you to write
to me and I thank you very heartily for your letter, which shows
me that you are a man of discretion and strict honour. As you
surmise, the expedition on which my son has entered is not one
that commends itself to me as prudent. Of the differences between
him and myself you are aware, for they came to a climax in your
presence. Indeed, I feel that I owe you an apology for having
dragged you into an unpleasant fami