When the history was finished, Lucy rose to go.

“I shall see Archie at once,” she said, moving hastily, towards the door.

“What for?” demanded her father benignly.

Lucy turned.

“This thing can’t go on,” she declared resolutely.  “Mrs. Jasher was accused by you, father—­”

“Only in a heated moment,” cried the Professor, excusing himself.

“Never mind, she was accused,” retorted Lucy stubbornly, “and now this sailor accuses Sir Frank.  Who knows who will be charged next with committing the crime?  I shall ask Archie to take the matter up, and hunt down the real criminal.  Until the guilty person is found, I foresee that we shall never have a moment’s peace.”

“I quite agree with you,” said Mrs. Jasher earnestly.  “For my own sake I wish the matter of this mystery to be cleared up.  Why don’t you help me?” she added, turning to Braddock, who listened placidly.

“I am helping,” said Braddock quietly.  “I intend to set Cockatoo on the trail at once.  He shall take up his abode in the Sailor’s Rest on some pretext, and no doubt will be able to find a clue.”

“What?” cried the widow incredulously, “a savage like that?”

“Cockatoo is much cleverer than the average white man,” said Braddock dryly, “especially in following a trail.  He, if any one, will learn the truth.  I would much rather trust the Kanaka than young Hope.”

“Nonsense!” cried Lucy, standing up for her lover.  “Archie is the one to discover the assassin.  I’ll see him at once.  And you, father?”

“I, my dear,” said the Professor calmly, “shall remain here and make my peace with the future Mrs. Braddock.”

“You have made it already,” said the widow graciously, and extended her hand, which the Professor kissed unexpectedly, and then sat back in his chair, looking quite abashed at his outburst of gallantry.

Seeing that everything was going well, Lucy left the elderly couple to continue their courting, and hurried to Archie’s lodgings in the village.  However, he happened to be out, and his landlady did not know when he would return.  Rather annoyed by this, since she greatly desired to unbosom herself, Miss Kendal walked disconsolately towards the Pyramids.  On the way she was stopped by Widow Anne, looking more dismal and funereal than ever, and garrulous with copious draughts of gin.  Not that she was intoxicated, but her tongue was loose, and she wept freely for no apparent reason.  According to herself, she had stopped Lucy to demand back from Mr. Hope through the girl certain articles of attire which had been borrowed for artistic purposes.  These, consisting of a shawl and a skirt and a bodice, were of extraordinary value, and Mrs. Bolton wanted them back or their equivalent in value.  She mentioned that she would prefer the sum of five pounds.

“Why do you not ask Mr. Hope yourself?” said Lucy who was too impatient to bear with the old creature’s maunderings.  “If you gave him the things he will no doubt return them.”