him, and he bethought himself what he would do. Were he to
jump overboard, they would simply pick him up. Nor was he quite sure
that he wished to die. The money which he had kept had not been obtained
fraudulently, and would be left to him, he thought, after that term of
imprisonment which it might be his fate to endure. But then, again, it
might be that no such fate was in store for him. He had sworn only to
the marriage and not to the letter. It might still be possible that he
should be acquitted, while the woman was condemned. So he stood
perfectly still, and said not a word to either of his companions as to
the boat which was coming. He could soon see two men in the guise of
policemen, and another who was certainly a policeman, though not in that
guise. He stood there very quiet, and determined that he would tell his
own name and those of the two women at the first question that was asked
him. On the day but one following, Crinkett and Euphemia Smith were
committed in London to take their trial for perjury.

Adamson, when he had read the reports in the newspapers, and had learned
that the postage-stamp had been detected, and that Shand was at home,
also looked about him a little. He talked over the matter at great
length with Crinkett, but he did not tell Crinkett all his own ideas.
Some of them he did make known to Crinkett. He would not himself go to
the colonies with Crinkett, nor would he let Crinkett go till some share
of the plunder had been made over to him. This, after many words, had
been fixed at two thousand pounds; and the money, as we have seen, had
been paid. Crinkett had been careful to make the payment at as late a
moment as possible. He had paid the amount,--very much to his own regret
when he saw that boat coming,--because he was quite sure that Adamson
would at once have denounced him to the police, had he not done so.
Adamson might denounce him in spite of the payment;--but the payment
appeared to him to be his best chance. When he saw the boat coming, he
knew that he had simply thrown away his two thousand pounds.

In truth, he had simply thrown it away. There is no comfort in having
kept one's word honestly, when one would fain have broken it
dishonestly. Adamson, with the large roll of bank-notes still in his
pocket, had gone at once to Scotland Yard and told his story. At that
time all the details had been sent by the judge to the police-office,
and it was understood that a great inquiry was