obtained fraudulently, and would be left to him, he thought, after that term of imprisonment which it might be his fate to endure.  But then, again, it might be that no such fate was in store for him.  He had sworn only to the marriage and not to the letter.  It might still be possible that he should be acquitted, while the woman was condemned.  So he stood perfectly still, and said not a word to either of his companions as to the boat which was coming.  He could soon see two men in the guise of policemen, and another who was certainly a policeman, though not in that guise.  He stood there very quiet, and determined that he would tell his own name and those of the two women at the first question that was asked him.  On the day but one following, Crinkett and Euphemia Smith were committed in London to take their trial for perjury.

Adamson, when he had read the reports in the newspapers, and had learned that the postage-stamp had been detected, and that Shand was at home, also looked about him a little.  He talked over the matter at great length with Crinkett, but he did not tell Crinkett all his own ideas.  Some of them he did make known to Crinkett.  He would not himself go to the colonies with Crinkett, nor would he let Crinkett go till some share of the plunder had been made over to him.  This, after many words, had been fixed at two thousand pounds; and the money, as we have seen, had been paid.  Crinkett had been careful to make the payment at as late a moment as possible.  He had paid the amount,—­very much to his own regret when he saw that boat coming,—­because he was quite sure that Adamson would at once have denounced him to the police, had he not done so.  Adamson might denounce him in spite of the payment;—­but the payment appeared to him to be his best chance.  When he saw the boat coming, he knew that he had simply thrown away his two thousand pounds.

In truth, he had simply thrown it away.  There is no comfort in having kept one’s word honestly, when one would fain have broken it dishonestly.  Adamson, with the large roll of bank-notes still in his pocket, had gone at once to Scotland Yard and told his story.  At that time all the details had been sent by the judge to the police-office, and it was understood that a great inquiry was to be made.  In the first place, Crinkett and Euphemia Smith were wanted.  Adamson soon made his bargain.  He could tell something,—­could certainly tell where Crinkett and the women were to be found; but he must be assured that any little peccadillo of which he himself might have been guilty would be overlooked.  The peccadillo on his part had been very small, but he must be assured.  Then he was assured, and told the police at once that they could stop the two travellers at Plymouth.  And of course he told more than that.  There had been no marriage,—­no real marriage.  He had been induced to swear that there had been a marriage, because he had regarded the promise and the cohabitation as making a marriage,—­’in