ed very quietly: "I should have liked to meet that Mr Way. He
must have been a man of personality. What did you tell him?"

"I didn't tell him anything. I think he guessed. He was that kind of
man--he could read right into you."

"What did he tell you?"

"The story of his life. He had been in prison twice when he was a young
man."

"I mean, what did he tell you to do?"

"He told me it was my hour for repentance. That was when we were in the
observation platform together. The next moment we were thrown over the
bridge."

"And then?"

"He died praying God to help me to repent and live straight!"

"Repent of what?"

"Of taking part in a fraud. Of pretending a dead man was still
alive--going to Canada and sending letters in his name so that his
friends would think he was still alive. I don't know how I could have
brought myself to do such a thing! I was tempted, I suppose, and I fell.
But temptation is nothing--it's falling to temptation that matters!
That's what he said in his sermon."

"Anything else to repent of?"

"Nothing very much, sir. Of course I've not been all I should have been,
but I'd never done anything radically wrong until then."

The shipowner rose and laid a hand on the young man's shoulder. "I
appreciate your feelings," he said. "They do you credit, Dean. You're
sound and straight, and that's what I want in my young men."

Dean looked up in surprise. "I don't think you quite understand, sir.
I've come here to-day--come at my own expense--to hand you in my
resignation."

"Well, there's no need for it. You've been worrying yourself over a
bogey."

"A bogey!"

"Yes. There's been no 'fraud' at all. Clifford Matheson is as alive as
you are. He knows perfectly well that you've been in Canada for him."

"But the overcoat and stick! They were his--I'll swear to it!"

"Yes, they were his right enough. He laid them by the river-bank at
Neuilly himself."

"Why?"

"That's complicated to answer. I don't know that I ought to tell you
without Mr Matheson's express permission. In fact, I want you to keep
what I've just told you entirely to yourself."

Dean felt bewildered. There was suspicion in his eyes.

Larssen saw the suspicion and continued rapidly. "You think I'm trying
to bluff you? I never bluff with my staff, whatever I may do outside.
I'll give you proof. Have you got those signatures of Clifford
Matheson's?"

Dean produced them from his pocket-book.

The shipowner rapidly unlo