“A year?  Then he set foot in Tasmania about four years after the Lord Nelson went down,” observed the nobleman, a curious glitter in his eyes.  “Four years after,” he repeated, accenting the last word.

“Such were the details gathered in Tasmania,” answered the police agent.

“Go on,” said Lord Ronsdale.  “You subsequently learned with more definiteness the actual circumstances of his rescue?”

“From the mate of the Laura Deane, the schooner that rescued him from the isle, and one of her crew whom I managed to locate at Plymouth, as I have informed your lordship by letter,” answered Mr. Gillett.  “These men now furnish lodgings to seamen, and incidentally shanghai a few of them for dubious craft!  Both of them, the mate and the sailor, recalled the man of fine bearing and education whom they found on the little isle, a sort of Greek statue, half-clothed in rags, so to speak, who made his personality felt at once on these simple, ignorant fellows!” Mr. Gillett paused to look at Lord Ronsdale, seemed waiting for the latter to say something, but the nobleman only leaned forward and pushed at the coals with a poker.

“Which brings to my mind the one point,” with emphasis, “that I haven’t been able so far to reconcile or to explain.  Your lordship, who seems to have divined a great deal, can, perhaps.  A man of fine education and bearing, as I said, yet the other had been—­”

“It is your business, not mine, to explain,” interrupted the listener.  “Tell all you know.”

“At the spring on the little island the seamen filled their water-butts; this kept them several days, mixing labor with skylarking, during which time one of them picked up something, a pouch marked with a name.”

“Which was—?”

Mr. Gillett leaned forward, spoke softly; Lord Ronsdale stared straight ahead.  “Of course,” he said, “of course!”

“This, I will confess, startled, puzzled me,” continued the police agent after a pause.  “What did it mean?  I tried to explain it in a dozen different ways but none of them seemed exactly to fit.  Then it was that the line of special investigation helped.  John Steele’s outing to which you directed my attention was passed on the continent.  What did he do there; was it business; was it pleasure took him there?  After a good deal of pains, we discovered that he visited a certain large building, centrally located.  This proved a starting-point; why did he go there?  At the top was a studio; from the concierge we learned that he had asked for the artist.  From the artist we ascertained that John Steele had bought a picture; that he had called several times to watch the painter at his work.  So far, so good, or bad!  For was it likely John Steele had come to Paris to buy a bit of canvas, or was his interest in art assumed to cover his real purpose?  When he left the studio, did he, without the knowledge of the concierge, call on some one else in the building?