a child in her life before she came to me; she did nothing but dress herself and sit about the deck with men, leaving me to do her work.  When I spoke to her she simply laughed in my face; the children couldn’t endure her and screamed whenever she came near them.  So I was obliged to do nursemaid whilst she danced and amused herself—­and all at my expense.  She made no secret of the fact that she was on the look out for a husband; and she has gained her end—­for she is married.”

“Married!” repeated Shafto.  The news was too good to be true.

“Well, at least they landed at Colombo with that intention,” announced the lady sourly; “she and a coffee planter, a widower, with a touch of black blood.  They were going up country to his estate, and she declared that she was about to have the time of her life—­but I doubt it.”

This piece of news was an unspeakable relief to Shafto.  The hypocrite listened to the long list of his cousin’s enormities with a downcast and apologetic air, whilst all the time he could have shouted for joy.  When at last he was permitted an opportunity of speaking, he assured the angry matron that he much deplored Miss Larcher’s shortcomings.  His sympathy even took a practical form, for he generously offered to refund Mrs. Jones half of Miss Larcher’s passage money; this the lady vouchsafed to receive and subsequently always spoke of young Shafto as “a remarkably nice, gentlemanly fellow.”  Little did she suspect that the cheque so punctually lodged at her banker’s was in the form of a heartfelt thank-offering—­the price of a young man’s peace!

CHAPTER XXIII

MYSTERY AND SUSPICION

One evening after dinner the four chums—­unusual circumstance—­were all present; MacNab, seated at the big round table, engaged in putting up a remarkably neat parcel, the others lounging at ease, smoking and talking.

“Bedad, I know the address of that!” drawled FitzGerald from his long cane chair, “St. Andrew’s Lodge, Crieff, Perthshire, N.B.  Ahem—­presents endear absents.”

“N.B.,” retorted MacNab, “you don’t send many!”

“Why, man alive, it’s all I can do to keep myself in boots!  And you’re wrong about presents, for I did send my sister a ruby ring out of ‘Top-Note’s’ winnings.  Things are getting so bad with me financially”—­here he struck a match and then went on—­“that some day I’ll be obliged to make a present of myself!”

Shafto, who was reading, looked up over the edge of his book and said: 

“How do you know you won’t be declined with thanks?”

“I will take an observation and make sure, me boy—­I’m not a confounded fool.  Talking of fools—­what about your crazy expedition to-morrow?  I say,” addressing himself particularly to Roscoe and MacNab, “did you know that this fellow is going out tiger shooting?  Tiger shooting, if you please!  Tiger shooting is to be his way of spending the Sabbath; what do you say to that, my stiff-necked Presbyterian?”