ways of England something
of their pristine calm. For myself, I inclined to the belief that he was
a remarkable specimen of the megalomaniac, whose exploits were prompted
much more by the desire for notoriety than by any altruistic motive, or
even by any sordid consideration regarding the plunder which he secured.
Certainly had he been a mere criminal, impelled by the desire for the
easy acquisition of wealth, he could have pursued his career for a much
longer period than he actually did. As for my wife, with a woman's
natural tendency to read a romance into any and every development of
human activity, she held fast to the opinion that the Pirate's
extraordinary career was the outcome of an overmastering passion for
herself. The probability is, that in his brain all these motives
operated at different times. The natural love of plunder, inherent in
the criminal mind, is as often as not accompanied by a morbid delight in
awakening the wonder of the public by the performance of startling
deeds and, in the same temperament, it is not unusual to discover the
romantic nature developed to a considerable degree. But, from the data
at our command, I fancy it would have been impossible even for the
experienced psychologist to decide which, so to speak, was the master
impulse.

Perhaps, however, the few facts concerning him, which came into our
possession afterwards, tend to clear up these points to some degree.
Certainly they left me with a clearer light upon his individuality.

To these facts I am indebted to Inspector Forrest, who, some six months
after our famous ride together in pursuit of the pirate, managed to find
time to pay a flying visit to our Norfolk home, where we had continued
to dwell in peaceful seclusion.

It was at dinner, on the night of his arrival, that Forrest first hinted
that he had picked up some details of Mannering's life-history, and of
course nothing would content Evie but a promise that we should hear what
he had discovered. So, directly the meal was finished, we adjourned for
our coffee and cigars to my sanctum, where, in front of a comfortable
fire, Forrest made no difficulty about satisfying our curiosity.

"You see," he began, when his cigar was once well alight, "I was every
bit as curious as Mrs. Sutgrove."

"Or myself," I interrupted.

"Or Mr. Sutgrove," said the detective, smiling, "for there is precious
little difference between the sexes so far as curiosity is concerned, in
spite of