“I know no more than a babe unborn,” declared Mr. Wilks.  “The last I see of the cap’n ’e was a-sitting at this table opposite you.”

“Sam wouldn’t hurt a fly,” said Miss Nugent, with a kind glance at her favourite.

“Well, where is the governor, then?” inquired her brother.  “Why didn’t he go home last night?  He has never stayed out before.”

“Yes, he has,” said Mrs. Kingdom, folding her hands in her lap.  “When you were children.  He came home at half-past eleven next morning, and when I asked him where he’d been he nearly bit my head off.  I’d been walking the floor all night, and I shall never forget his remarks when he opened the door to the police, who’d come to say they couldn’t find him.  Never.”

A ghostly grin flitted across the features of Mr. Wilks, but he passed the back of his hand across his mouth and became serious again as he thought of his position.  He was almost dancing with anxiety to get away to Mr. Nathan Smith and ask for an explanation of the proceedings of the night before.

“I’ll go and have a look round for the cap’n,” he said, eagerly; “he can’t be far.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Nugent.  “I should like to see him too.  There are one or two little things that want explaining.  You take aunt home, Kate, and I’ll follow on as soon as there is any news.”

As he spoke the door opened a little way and a head appeared, only to be instantly withdrawn at the sight of so many people.  Mr. Wilks stepped forward hastily, and throwing the door wide open revealed the interesting features of Mr. Nathan Smith.

“How do you do, Mr. Wilks?” said that gentleman, softly.  “I just walked round to see whether you was in.  I’ve got a message for you.  I didn’t know you’d got company.”

He stepped into the room and, tapping the steward on the chest with a confidential finger, backed him into a corner, and having got him there gave an expressive wink with one eye and gazed into space with the other.

[Illustration:  “Tapping the steward on the chest with a confidential finger, he backed him into a corner.”]

“I thought you’d be alone,” he said, looking round, “but p’r’aps it’s just as well as it is.  They’ve got to know, so they may as well know now as later on.”

“Know what?” inquired Jack Nugent, abruptly.  “What are you making that face for, Sam?”

Mr. Wilks mumbled something about a decayed tooth, and to give colour to the statement continued a series of contortions which made his face ache.

“You should take something for that tooth,” said the boarding-master, with great solicitude.  “Wot do you say to a glass o’ whisky?”

He motioned to the fatal bottle, which still stood on the table; the steward caught his breath, and then, rising to the occasion, said that he had already had a couple of glasses, and they had done no good.

“What’s your message?” inquired Jack Nugent, impatiently.