a silver whistle to
his lips? It's guilt, Pitman."

In this uneasy frame of mind they walked nearly the whole length of the
departure platform, and at the western extremity became aware of a
slender figure standing back against a pillar. The figure was plainly
sunk into a deep abstraction; he was not aware of their approach, but
gazed far abroad over the sunlit station. Michael stopped.

"Holloa!" said he, "can that be your advertiser? If so, I'm done with
it." And then, on second thoughts: "Not so, either," he resumed more
cheerfully. "Here, turn your back a moment. So. Give me the specs."

"But you agreed I was to have them," protested Pitman.

"Ah, but that man knows me," said Michael.

"Does he? what's his name?" cried Pitman.

"O, he took me into his confidence," returned the lawyer. "But I may say
one thing: if he's your advertiser (and he may be, for he seems to have
been seized with criminal lunacy) you can go ahead with a clear
conscience, for I hold him in the hollow of my hand."

The change effected, and Pitman comforted with this good news, the pair
drew near to Morris.

"Are you looking for Mr. William Bent Pitman?" inquired the
drawing-master. "I am he."

Morris raised his head. He saw before him, in the speaker, a person of
almost indescribable insignificance, in white spats and a shirt cut
indecently low. A little behind, a second and more burly figure offered
little to criticism, except ulster, whiskers, spectacles, and
deer-stalker hat. Since he had decided to call up devils from the
underworld of London, Morris had pondered deeply on the probabilities of
their appearance. His first emotion, like that of Charoba when she
beheld the sea, was one of disappointment; his second did more justice
to the case. Never before had he seen a couple dressed like these; he
had struck a new stratum.

"I must speak with you alone," said he.

"You need not mind Mr. Appleby," returned Pitman. "He knows all."

"All? Do you know what I am here to speak of?" inquired Morris. "The
barrel."

Pitman turned pale, but it was with manly indignation. "You are the
man!" he cried. "You very wicked person."

"Am I to speak before him?" asked Morris, disregarding these severe
expressions.

"He has been present throughout," said Pitman. "He opened the barrel;
your guilty secret is already known to him, as well as to your Maker and
myself."

"Well, then," said Morris, "what have you done with the money?"

"I kno