“This is serious,” I said.  “What will you do?”

“Wait and watch,” Charles answered; “and the moment he develops a proposal for shares in the syndicate to work the mine, or a sum of money down as the price of his discovery—­get in the police, and arrest him.”

For the next few days the Professor was more active and ardent than ever.  He went peering about the rocks on every side with his hammer.  He kept on bringing in little pieces of stone, with gold specks stuck in them, and talking learnedly of the “probable cost of crushing and milling.”  Charles had heard all that before; in point of fact, he had assisted at the drafting of some dozens of prospectuses.  So he took no notice, and waited for the man with the wig to develop his proposals.  He knew they would come soon; and he watched and waited.  But, of course, to draw him on he pretended to be interested.

While we were all in this attitude of mind, attending on Providence and Colonel Clay, we happened to walk down by the shore one day, in the opposite direction from the Seamew’s island.  Suddenly we came upon the Professor linked arm-in-arm with—­Sir Adolphus Cordery!  They were wrapped in deep talk, and appeared to be most amicable.

Now, naturally, relations had been a trifle strained between Sir Adolphus and the house of Vandrift since the incident of the Slump; but under the present circumstances, and with such a matter at stake as the capture of Colonel Clay, it was necessary to overlook all such minor differences.  So Charles managed to disengage the Professor from his friend, sent Amelia on with Forbes-Gaskell towards the castle, and stopped behind, himself, with Sir Adolphus and me, to clear up the question.

“Do you know this man, Cordery?” he asked, with some little suspicion.

“Know him?  Why, of course I do,” Sir Adolphus answered.  “He’s Marmaduke Forbes-Gaskell, of the Yorkshire College, a very distinguished man of science.  First-rate mineralogist—­perhaps the best (but one) in England.”  Modesty forbade him to name the exception.

“But are you sure it’s he?” Charles inquired, with growing doubt.  “Have you known him before?  This isn’t a second case of Schleiermachering me, is it?”

“Sure it’s he?” Sir Adolphus echoed.  “Am I sure of myself?  Why, I’ve known Marmy Gaskell ever since we were at Trinity together.  Knew him before he married Miss Forbes of Glenluce, my wife’s second cousin, and hyphened his name with hers, to keep the property in the family.  Know them both most intimately.  Came down here to the inn because I heard that Marmy was on the prowl among these hills, and I thought he had probably something good to prowl after—­in the way of fossils.”

“But the man wears a wig!” Charles expostulated.

“Of course,” Cordery answered.  “He’s as bald as a bat—­in front at least—­and he wears a wig to cover his baldness.”

“It’s disgraceful,” Charles exclaimed; “disgraceful—­taking us in like that.”  And he grew red as a turkey-cock.