others were soon made clear. Where he got Carthew's name is still a mystery; perhaps some sailor on the Tempest, perhaps my own sea-lawyer served him for a tool; but I was actually at his elbow when he learned the address. It fell so. One evening, when I had an engagement and was killing time until the hour, I chanced to walk in the court of the hotel while the band played. The place was bright as day with the electric light; and I recognised, at some distance among the loiterers, the person of Bellairs in talk with a gentleman whose face appeared familiar. It was certainly someone I had seen, and seen recently; but who or where, I knew not. A porter standing hard by, gave me the necessary hint. The stranger was an English navy man, invalided home from Honolulu, where he had left his ship; indeed, it was only from the change of clothes and the effects of sickness, that I had not immediately recognised my friend and correspondent, Lieutenant Sebright.
The conjunction of these planets seeming ominous, I drew near; but it seemed Bellairs had done his business; he vanished in the crowd, and I found my officer alone.
“Do you know whom you have been talking to, Mr. Sebright?” I began.
“No,” said he; “I don't know him from Adam. Anything wrong?”
“He is a disreputable lawyer, recently disbarred,” said I. “I wish I had seen you in time. I trust you told him nothing about Carthew?”
He flushed to his ears. “I'm awfully sorry,” he said. “He seemed civil, and I wanted to get rid of him. It was only the address he asked.”
“And you gave it?” I cried.
“I'm really awfully sorry,” said Sebright. “I'm afraid I did.”
“God forgive you!” was my only comment, and I turned my back upon the blunderer.
