“Knew, Mr. Cleek?  Why, how could you?”

“The most virulent poisons have their remedial uses, Captain,” he made reply.  “You can kill a man with strychnine; you can put him in his grave with arsenic; you can also use both these powerful agents to cure and to save, in their proper proportions and in the proper way.  The same rule applies to Ayupee.  Properly diluted and properly used, it is one of the most powerful agents for the relief, and, in some cases, the cure, of Bright’s disease of the kidneys.  But the Government guards this unholy drug most carefully.  You can’t get a drop of it in Java for love or money, unless on the order of a recognized physician; and you can’t bring it into the ports of England unless backed by that physician’s sworn statement and the official stamp of the Javanese authorities.  A man undeniably afflicted with Bright’s disease could get these things—­no other could.  Well, I wanted to know who had succeeded in getting Ayupee into this country and into this house.  Last night I drugged every man in it, and—­I found out.”

“But how?”

“By finding the one who could not sleep stretched out at full length.  One of the strongest symptoms of Bright’s disease is a tendency to draw the knees up close to the body in sleep.  Captain, and to twist the arms above the head.  Of all the men under this roof, this man here was the only one who slept like that last night!” He paused and looked down at the scowling, sullen creature on the floor.  “You wretched little cur!” he said, with a gesture of unspeakable contempt.  “And all for the sake of an old man’s money!  If I did my duty, I’d gaol you.  But if I did, it would be punishing the innocent for the crimes of the guilty.  It would kill that dear old man to learn this; and so he’s not going to learn it, and the law’s not going to get its own.”  He twitched out his hand, and something tinkled on the floor.  “Get up!” he said sharply.  “There’s the key of the handcuffs; take it and set yourself free.  Do you know what’s going to happen to you?  To-morrow morning Dr. Phillipson is going to examine you, and to report that you’ll be a dead man in a year’s time if you stop another week in this country.  You are going out of it, and you are going to stop out of it.  Do you understand? Stop out of it to the end of your days.  For if ever you put foot in it again I’ll handle you as a terrier handles a rat!  Dollops!”

“Yes, Gov’nor?”

“My things packed and ready?”

“Yes, sir.  And all waitin’ in the arbour, sir, as you told me to have ’em.”

“Good lad!  Get them, and we’ll catch the first train back.  Mrs. Bawdrey, my best respects.  Captain, all good luck to you,” said Cleek—­and swung out into the darkness and the moist, warm fragrance of the night; his mental poise a bit unsteady, his nerves raw.  It was not in him to have stopped longer, to have remained under the same roof with a monster like young Bawdrey and keep his temper in check.