Lancelot had been certain of it. Good Lord! The questions crowded upon
him. "What kind of a ship was yours?"

"She was a brigantine. Fifteen hundred tons."

"Oh! I say--" with the air of, You needn't tell me if you'd rather
not--"was she a good one?"

"She was a clipper."

"What name?"

"The _Dog Star_."

This was beyond everything. "Oh--good. Did you ever hang fellows?"

"We did."

"Many?"

"Some."

He had expected that too. He felt that he was being too obvious. The
man of the world in him came into use. "For treachery, I suppose, and
that kind of thing?"

"Yes," said Urquhart, "and for fun, of course."

Lancelot nodded gloomily. "I know," he said.

"So does Sir Matthew, now," he said. "You've led me into admissions,
you know."

"You are up to the neck," said the Judge. For a moment Lancelot looked
shrewdly from one to the other. Was it possible that--? No, no. He
settled all that. "It's all right. He's a guest, you see--the same as
you are."

Urquhart was looking about him. "I should smoke a cigarette, if I had
one," he said.

Lancelot's hospitality was awake. "Come into Father's room. He has
tons." He led the way for his two friends. They pierced the
conservatory and entered another open glass door. They were now in
James's private room.

On the threshold Lancelot paused to exhibit what he said was a jolly
convenient arrangement. These were two bay windows, with two glass
doors. Between them stretched the conservatory. "Jolly convenient,"
said Lancelot. "What, for burglars?" the Judge asked. "Yes, for
burglars, and policemen, and Father, you know ... I don't think," said
the terse Lancelot. "Why don't you think, my friend?" says the Judge,
and Lancelot became cautious. "Oh, Father won't come into the
drawing-room if he can possibly help it. He says it's Mamma's
province--but I expect he's afraid of meeting women, I mean ladies."
Urquhart blinked at him. "'Never be afraid of any one' will do for you
and me," he said; and Lancelot said deeply, "Rather not." Then they
went into the misogynist's study. The Judge and Urquhart were
accommodated with cigarettes, and Lancelot entertained them. But he
did not pry any further into Urquhart's past. A hint had been enough.

Conversation was easy. Lancelot talked freely of his father. "Father
will be awfully waxy with me for not going to bed. He might easily
come in here--hope he won't, all the same. But do you know what he
likes? He likes the same t