I've not had my 'pology," said he, sulkily, glancing in my direction.

[Illustration: "'I'VE NOT HAD MY 'POLOGY,' SAID HE, SULKILY."]

"'Victor, you will acknowledge that you have used this worthy fellow
rather roughly?' said the dad, turning to me.

"'On the contrary, I think that we have both shown extraordinary
patience towards him,' I answered.

"'Oh, you do, do you?' he snarled. 'Very good, mate. We'll see about
that!' He slouched out of the room, and half an hour afterwards left the
house, leaving my father in a state of pitiable nervousness. Night after
night I heard him pacing his room, and it was just as he was recovering
his confidence that the blow did at last fall.

"'And how?' I asked, eagerly.

"'In a most extraordinary fashion. A letter arrived for my father
yesterday evening, bearing the Fordingbridge postmark. My father read
it, clapped both his hands to his head and began running round the room
in little circles like a man who has been driven out of his senses. When
I at last drew him down on to the sofa, his mouth and eyelids were all
puckered on one side, and I saw that he had a stroke. Dr. Fordham came
over at once, and we put him to bed; but the paralysis has spread, he
has shown no sign of returning consciousness, and I think that we shall
hardly find him alive.'

"'You horrify me, Trevor!' I cried. 'What, then, could have been in this
letter to cause so dreadful a result?'

"'Nothing. There lies the inexplicable part of it. The message was
absurd and trivial. Ah, my God, it is as I feared!'

"As he spoke we came round the curve of the avenue, and saw in the
fading light that every blind in the house had been drawn down. As we
dashed up to the door, my friend's face convulsed with grief, a
gentleman in black emerged from it.

"'When did it happen, doctor?' asked Trevor.

"'Almost immediately after you left.'

"'Did he recover consciousness?'

"'For an instant before the end.'

"'Any message for me?'

"'Only that the papers were in the back drawer of the Japanese cabinet.'

"My friend ascended with the doctor to the chamber of death, while I
remained in the study, turning the whole matter over and over in my
head, and feeling as sombre as ever I had done in my life. What was the
past of this Trevor: pugilist, traveller, and gold-digger; and how had
he placed himself in the power of this acid-faced seaman? Why, too,
should he faint at an allusion to the half-effaced initials upon