“Well, Prodgers, what news have you to-day?” asked Augustus.

“There is a man a-wandering about down in Skye, just here and there, with nothing in particular to say for himself.”

“What sort of a looking fellow is he?”

“Well, he’s light, and don’t come up to the captain’s marks; but there’s no knowing what disguises a fellow will put on.  I don’t think he’s got the captain’s legs, and a man can’t change his legs.”

“Captain Scarborough would not remain loitering about in Skye where he would be known by half the autumn tourists who saw him.”

“That’s just what I was saying to Wilkinson,” said Prodgers.  “Wilkinson seems to think that a man may be anybody as long as nobody knows who he is.  ‘That ain’t the captain,’ said I.”

“I’m afraid he’s got out of England,” said the captain’s brother.

“There’s no place where he can be run down like New York, or Paris, or Melbourne, and it’s them they mostly go to.  We’ve wired ’em all three, and a dozen other ports of the kind.  We catches ’em mostly if they go abroad; but when they remains at home they’re uncommon troublesome.  There was a man wandering about in County Donegal.  We call Ireland at home, because we’ve so much to do with their police since the Land League came up; but this chap was only an artist who couldn’t pay his bill.  What do you think about it, Mr. Annesley?” said the policeman, turning short round upon Harry, and addressing him a question.  Why should the policeman even have known his name?

“Who?  I?  I don’t think about it at all.  I have no means of thinking about it.”

“Because you have been so busy down there at the Yard, I thought that, as you was asking so many questions, you was, perhaps, interested in the matter.”

“My friend Mr. Annesley,” said Augustus, “was acquainted with Captain Scarborough, as he is with me.”

“It did seem as though he was more than usually interested, all the same,” said the policeman.

“I am more than usually interested,” replied Harry; “but I do not know that I am going to give you my reason.  As to his present existence I know absolutely nothing.”

“I dare say not.  If you’d any information as was reliable I dare say as it would be forthcoming.  Well, Mr. Scarborough, you may be sure of this:  if we can get upon his trail we’ll do so, and I think we shall.  There isn’t a port that hasn’t been watched from two days after his disappearance, and there isn’t a port as won’t be watched as soon as any English steamer touches ’em.  We’ve got our eyes out, and we means to use ’em.  Good-night, Mr. Scarborough; good-night, Mr. Annesley,” and he bobbed his head to our friend Harry.  “You say as there is a reason as is unknown.  Perhaps it won’t be unknown always.  Good-night, gentlemen.”  Then Constable Prodgers left the room.

Harry had been disconcerted by the policeman’s remarks, and showed that it was so as soon as he was alone with Augustus Scarborough.  “I’m afraid you think the man intended to be impertinent,” said Augustus.