ength of this letter, we may conclude that when he went home,
after disposing of the body under Berry Head, your brother must have
disguised himself in some way and taken an early train from
Paignton to Newton Abbot and from Newton Abbot to Plymouth. He would
already have been there and lying low before the hunt began."

"That's how I figure it," answered the sailor.

"When did you last see him, Mr. Redmayne?"

"Somewhere about a month ago. He came over for the day with Miss
Reed--the young woman he was going to marry."

"Was he all right then?"

Bendigo considered and scratched in his red beard.

"Noisy and full of chatter, but much as usual."

"Did he mention Mr. and Mrs. Pendean?"

"Not a word. He was full up with his young woman. They meant to be
married in late autumn and go abroad for a run to see my brother
Albert."

"He may correspond with Miss Reed if he gets to France?"

"I can't say what he'll do. Suppose you catch him presently? How
would the law stand? A man goes mad and commits a murder. Then you
nab him and he's as sane as a judge. You can't hang him for what he
did when he was off his head, and you can't shut him up in a lunatic
asylum if he's sane."

"A nice problem, no doubt," admitted Brendon, "but be sure the law
will take no risks. A homicidal maniac, no matter how sane he is
between times, is not going to run loose any more after killing a
man."

"Well, that's all there is to it, detective. If I hear again, I'll
let the police know; and if you take him, of course you'll let me
and his brother know at once. It's a very ugly thing for his family.
He did good work in the war and got honours; and if he's mad, then
the war made him mad."

"That would be taken very fully into account, be sure. I'm sorry,
both for him and for you, Mr. Redmayne."

Bendigo looked sulkily from under his tangled eyebrows.

"I shouldn't feel no very great call to give him up to the living
death of an asylum, if he hove in here some night."

"You'd do your duty--that I will bet," replied Brendon.

They descended to the dining-room, where Jenny Pendean was waiting
to pour out tea. All were very silent and Mark had leisure to
observe the young widow.

"What shall you do and where may I count upon finding you if I want
you, Mrs. Pendean?" he asked presently.

She looked at Redmayne, not at Brendon, as she answered.

"I am in Uncle Bendigo's hands. I know he will let me stop here for
the present."

"For