one point that I fail to grasp. The two
bullet holes?"

"They were old ones," answered the sailor quietly. "My uncle in his
youth had led a wild life in the west; he was full of them."

There was silence for a moment. Then Kelly spoke again:

"My time, gentlemen, is short." (A hacking cough interrupted him.) "I
feel that I am withering. It rests with you, gentlemen, whether or not I
walk out of this room a free man."

Transome Kent rose and walked over to the sailor.

"Mr. Kelly," he said, "here is my hand."

CHAPTER X

SO DO I

A few days after the events last narrated, Transome Kent called at the
boarding-house of Miss Alice Delary. The young Investigator wore a light
grey tweed suit, with a salmon-coloured geranium in his buttonhole.
There was something exultant yet at the same time grave in his
expression, as of one who has taken a momentous decision, affecting his
future life.

"I wonder," he murmured, "whether I am acting for my happiness."

He sat down for a moment on the stone steps and analysed himself.

Then he rose.

"I am," he said, and rang the bell.

"Miss Delary?" said a maid, "she left here two days ago. If you are Mr.
Kent, the note on the mantelpiece is for you."

Without a word (Kent never wasted them) the Investigator opened the note
and read:

"Dear Mr. Kent,

"Peter and I were married yesterday morning, and have taken an
apartment in Java, New Jersey. You will be glad to hear that
Peter's cough is ever so much better. The lawyers have given Peter
his money without the least demur.

"We both feel that your analysis was simply wonderful. Peter says
he doesn't know where he would be without it.

"Very sincerely,

"Alice Kelly.

"P.S.--I forgot to mention to you that I saw Peter in the
billiard-room. But your analysis was marvellous just the same."

That evening Kent sat with Throgton talking over the details of the
tragedy.

"Throgton," he said, "it has occurred to me that there were points about
that solution that we didn't get exactly straight somehow."

"So do I," said Throgton.

V

BROKEN BARRIERS

OR, RED LOVE ON A BLUE ISLAND

(_The kind of thing that has replaced the good Old Sea Story_)

_V.--Broken Barriers; or, Red Love on a Blue Island._

It was on a bright August afternoon that I stepped on board the steamer
_Patagonia_ at Southampton outward bound for the West Indies and