‘Me, of course,’ said Crinkett.  ‘A man always must have the money.’

‘I’d sooner have fourteen years for perjury, like the Claimant,’ said Mrs. Smith, with a grand resolve that, come what might, she would stick to her own money.

But at last it was decided.  Adamson would not stir a step, but consented to remain with two thousand pounds, which Crinkett was compelled to pay him.  Crinkett handed him the money within the precincts of one of the city banks not an hour before the sailing of the Julius Vogel from the London Docks for Auckland in New Zealand.  At that moment both the women were on board the Julius Vogel, and the gang was so far safe.  Crinkett was there in time, and they were carried safely down the river.  New Zealand had been chosen because there they would be further from their persecutors than at any other spot they could reach.  And the journey would occupy long, and they were pervaded by an idea that as they had been hitherto brought in question as to no crime, the officers of justice would hardly bring them back from so great a distance.

The Julius Vogel touched at Plymouth on her outward voyage.  How terribly inconvenient must be this habit of touching to passengers going from home, such as Euphemia Smith and Thomas Crinkett!  And the wretched vessel, which had made a quick passage round from the Thames, lay two days and two nights at Dartmouth, before it went on to Plymouth.  Our friends, of course, did not go on shore.  Our friends, who were known as Mr. Catley and his two widowed sisters, Mrs. Salmon and Mrs. York, kept themselves very quiet, and were altogether well-behaved.  But the women could not restrain some manifestation of their impatience.  Why did not the vessel start?  Why were they to be delayed Then the captain made known to them that the time for starting had not yet come.  Three o’clock on that day was the time fixed for starting.  As the slow moments wore themselves away, the women trembled, huddled together on the poop of the vessel; while Crinkett, never letting the pipe out of his mouth, stood leaning against the taffrail, looking towards the port, gazing across the waters to see whether anything was coming towards the ship which might bode evil to his journey.  Then there came the bustle preparatory to starting, and Crinkett thought that he was free, at any rate, for that journey.  But such bustle spreads itself over many minutes.  Quarter of an hour succeeded quarter of an hour, and still they were not off.  The last passenger came on board, and yet they were not off.  Then Crinkett with his sharp eyes saw another boat pushed off from the shore, and heard a voice declare that the Julius Vogel had received a signal not to start.  Then Crinkett knew that a time of desperate trouble had come upon him, and he bethought himself what he would do.  Were he to jump overboard, they would simply pick him up.  Nor was he quite sure that he wished to die.  The money which he had kept had not been