it is true, one with
some experience."

"Would it be rude to inquire, Captain Orme, why twenty-four hours have
made such a difference in your views and plans?"

"Not rude, only awkward," he replied, colouring again, this time more
deeply. "Still, as it is best to be frank, I will tell you. Yesterday
I believed myself to be the inheritor of a very large fortune from an
uncle whose fatal illness brought me back from South Africa before I
meant to come, and as whose heir I have been brought up. To-day I have
learned for the first time that he married secretly, last year, a woman
much below him in rank, and has left a child, who, of course, will take
all his property, as he died intestate. But that is not all. Yesterday I
believed myself to be engaged to be married; to-day I am undeceived
upon that point also. The lady," he added with some bitterness, "who
was willing to marry Anthony Orme's heir is no longer willing to marry
Oliver Orme, whose total possessions amount to under L10,000. Well,
small blame to her or to her relations, whichever it may be, especially
as I understand that she has a better alliance in view. Certainly her
decision has simplified matters," and he rose and walked to the other
end of the room.

"Shocking business," whispered Higgs; "been infamously treated," and
he proceeded to express his opinion of the lady concerned, of her
relatives, and of the late Anthony Orme, shipowner, in language that,
if printed, would render this history unfit for family reading. The
outspokenness of Professor Higgs is well known in the antiquarian world,
so there is no need for me to enlarge upon it.

"What I do not exactly understand, Adams," he added in a loud voice,
seeing that Orme had turned again, "and what I think we should both like
to know, is _your_ exact object in making these proposals."

"I am afraid I have explained myself badly. I thought I had made it
clear that I have only one object--to attempt the rescue of my son,
if he still lives, as I believe he does. Higgs, put yourself in my
position. Imagine yourself with nothing and no one left to care for
except a single child, and that child stolen away from you by savages.
Imagine yourself, after years of search, hearing his very voice, seeing
his very face, adult now, but the same, the thing you had dreamed of and
desired for years; that for which you would have given a thousand lives
if you could have had time to think. And then the rush of the howlin