Annabel
Lee, and that the man in the baby blue pajamas was loose from Morris's.
But why the man in the pajamas pursued and the others fled he could not
guess.

They passed within fifty yards of the Jasper B. But the men in irons
were so intent upon their own troubles, and the pursuer was so keen on
vengeance, that none of them noticed the vessel. As they limped along,
splashing through the pools the rain had left, the pursuer would
occasionally pause to fling stones and sticks and even cakes of mud at
the fugitives, who were whimpering as they tottered forward.

The man in the baby blue pajamas was cursing in a high-pitched, nasal,
querulous voice. Cleggett noticed with astonishment that a
single-barreled eyeglass was screwed into one of his eyes. Occasionally
it dropped to the ground, and he would stop and fumble for it and wipe
it on his wet sleeve and replace it. Had it not been for these stops
he would have overtaken the men in irons.

"Clement!" Lady Agatha laid her hand upon his arm. "Miss Pringle wants
to see you in the cabin."

"Well--imposter!" laughed Cleggett. "Is she able to talk to you yet?
And what on earth did she mean by her plum preserves?"

"That is what she wants to tell, evidently," said Lady Agatha. And she
went aft with him.

Miss Pringle, who had been rubbed dry by Lady Agatha, and was now
dressed in some articles of that lady's clothing, which were much too
large for her, sat on the edge of the bed in Lady Agatha's stateroom
and awaited them. Her appearance was scarcely conventional, and she
seemed to feel it; nevertheless, she had a duty to perform, and her
innate propriety still triumphed over her situation and habiliments.

"Mr. Cleggett," she said, pointing to the box which contained the
evidence against Logan Black, which was exactly similar to the box of
Reginald Maltravers, and which had been placed in this inner room for
safe-keeping, "what does that box contain?"

Cleggett was startled. He and Lady Agatha exchanged glances.

"What do you think it contains?" he asked.

"That box," she said, "was shipped to me from Flatbush, and was claimed
in my name--in the name of Genevieve Pringle--at the freight depot at
Newark, New Jersey, by this lady here. Deny it if you can!"

"I do deny it, Miss Pringle," said Lady Agatha, accompanying her words
with a winsome smile. But Miss Pringle was not to be won over so
easily as all that; she met the smile with a look of steady
rep