. His interest was natural
and sincere. But the odd thing was that it seemed equally divided among
a multitude of subjects. He was as eager to know how Bateman's father
was as what Isabel was doing. He talked of her without a shade of
embarrassment, but she might just as well have been his sister as his
promised wife; and before Bateman had done analysing the exact meaning
of Edward's remarks he found that the conversation had drifted to his
own work and the buildings his father had lately erected. He was
determined to bring the conversation back to Isabel and was looking for
the occasion when he saw Edward wave his hand cordially. A man was
advancing towards them on the terrace, but Bateman's back was turned to
him and he could not see him.

"Come and sit down," said Edward gaily.

The new-comer approached. He was a very tall, thin man, in white ducks,
with a fine head of curly white hair. His face was thin too, long, with
a large, hooked nose and a beautiful, expressive mouth.

"This is my old friend Bateman Hunter. I've told you about him," said
Edward, his constant smile breaking on his lips.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr Hunter. I used to know your father."

The stranger held out his hand and took the young man's in a strong,
friendly grasp. It was not till then that Edward mentioned the other's
name.

"Mr Arnold Jackson."

Bateman turned white and he felt his hands grow cold. This was the
forger, the convict, this was Isabel's uncle. He did not know what to
say. He tried to conceal his confusion. Arnold Jackson looked at him
with twinkling eyes.

"I daresay my name is familiar to you."

Bateman did not know whether to say yes or no, and what made it more
awkward was that both Jackson and Edward seemed to be amused. It was bad
enough to have forced on him the acquaintance of the one man on the
island he would rather have avoided, but worse to discern that he was
being made a fool of. Perhaps, however, he had reached this conclusion
too quickly, for Jackson, without a pause, added:

"I understand you're very friendly with the Longstaffes. Mary Longstaffe
is my sister."

Now Bateman asked himself if Arnold Jackson could think him ignorant of
the most terrible scandal that Chicago had ever known. But Jackson put
his hand on Edward's shoulder.

"I can't sit down, Teddie," he said. "I'm busy. But you two boys had
better come up and dine to-night."

"That'll be fine," said Edward.

"It's very kind of y