onsole him for the loss of his son, and he
turned upon me as if I were weak-minded."

"I had to tell him he was being rude and forgetting that he spoke to a
lady," said Ernest Travers. "One makes every allowance for a father's
sufferings; but they should not take the form of abrupt and harsh speech
to a sympathetic fellow-creature--nay, to anyone, let alone a woman. His
sacred calling ought to--"

"A man's profession cannot alter his manners, my dear Ernest; they come
from defects of temperament, no doubt. May must not be judged. His faith
would move mountains."

"So would mine," said Ernest Travers, "and so would yours, Walter. But
it is perfectly possible to be a Christian and a gentleman. To imply
that our faith was weak because we expressed ordinary human emotions and
pitied him unfeignedly for the loss of his only child--"

"Good-bye, good-bye, my dear friends," answered the other. "I cannot say
how I esteem your kindly offices in this affliction. May we meet again
presently. God bless and keep you both."

The post-mortem examination revealed no physical reason why Thomas May
should have ceased to breathe. Neither did the subsequent investigations
of a Government analytical chemist throw any light upon the sailor's
sudden death. No cause existed, and therefore none could be reported at
the inquest held a day later.

The coroner's jury brought in a verdict rarely heard, but none dissented
from it. They held that May had received his death "by the hand of God."

"All men receive death from the hand of God," said Septimus May, when
the judicial inquiry was ended. "They receive life from the hand of
God also. But, while bowing to that, there is a great deal more we
are called to do when God's hand falls as it has fallen upon my son.
To-night I shall pray beside his dust, and presently, when he is at
peace, I shall be guided. There is a grave duty beside me, Sir Walter,
and none must come between me and that duty."

"There is a duty before all of us, and be sure nobody will shrink
from it. I have done what is right, so far. We have secured a famous
detective--the most famous in England, they tell me. He is called Peter
Hardcastle, and he will, I hope, be able to arrive here immediately."

The clergyman shook his head.

"I will say nothing at present," he answered. "But, believe me, a
thousand detectives cannot explain my son's death. I shall return to
this subject after the funeral, Sir Walter. But my convict