BACK IN BOHEMIA.

XXIX. THE GREAT DANCE AT MORRISON'S.

XXX. AT THE "COCK AND COWSLIP".

XXXI. A CRISIS AT ECCLESTON SQUARE.

XXXII. A CONVERSATION IN THE ECCLESTON SQUARE LIBRARY.

XXXIII. THE JOURNEY TO THE PRIORY.

XXXIV. THE MAN WITH THE CAMP-STOOL.

XXXV. A TALK ON THE LAWN.

XXXVI. THE INCIDENT OF THE CORRIDOR.

XXXVII. A CHASE AND A BRAWL.

XXXVIII. GIRDLESTONE SENDS FOR THE DOCTOR.

XXXIX. A GLEAM OF LIGHT.

XL. THE MAJOR HAS A LETTER.

XLI. THE CLOUDS GROW DARKER.

XLII. THE THREE FACES AT THE WINDOW.

XLIII. THE BAIT ON THE HOOK.

XLIV. THE SHADOW OF DEATH.

XLV THE INVASION OF HAMPSHIRE.

XLVI. A MIDNIGHT CRUISE.

XLVII LAW AND ORDER.

XLVIII. CAPTAIN HAMILTON MIGGS SEES A VISION.

XLIX. A VOYAGE IN A COFFIN SHIP.

L. WINDS UP THE THREAD AND TIES TWO KNOTS AT THE END.

THE FIRM OF GIRDLESTONE.

CHAPTER I.

MR. JOHN HARSTON KEEPS AN APPOINTMENT.

The approach to the offices of Girdlestone and Co. was not a very
dignified one, nor would the uninitiated who traversed it form any
conception of the commercial prosperity of the firm in question.
Close to the corner of a broad and busy street, within a couple of
hundred yards of Fenchurch Street Station, a narrow doorway opens into a
long whitewashed passage. On one side of this is a brass plate with the
inscription "Girdlestone and Co., African Merchants," and above it a
curious hieroglyphic supposed to represent a human hand in the act of
pointing. Following the guidance of this somewhat ghostly emblem, the
wayfarer finds himself in a small square yard surrounded by doors, upon
one of which the name of the firm reappears in large white letters, with
the word "Push" printed beneath it. If he follows this laconic
invitation he will make his way into a long, low apartment, which is the
counting-house of the African traders.

On the afternoon of which we speak things were quiet at the offices.
The line of pigeon-holes in the wire curtain was deserted by the public,
though the linoleum-covered floor bore abundant traces of a busy
morning. Misty London light shone hazily through the glazed windows and
cast dark shadows in the corners. On a high perch in the background a
weary-faced, elderly man, with muttering lips and tapping fingers, cast
up endless lines of figures. Beneath him, in front of two long shining
mahogany desks, half