A CLUE


A motor boat lay off Kingswear Ferry when Mark Brendon arrived. The
famous harbour was new to him and though his mind found itself
sufficiently occupied, he still had perception disengaged and could
admire the graceful river, the hills towering above the estuary, and
the ancient town lying within their infolding and tree-clad slopes.
Dominating all stood the Royal Naval College, its great masses of
white and red masonry breaking the blue sky.

A perfect little craft awaited him. She was painted white and
furnished with teak. Her brasses and machinery glittered; the
engines and steering wheel were set forward, while aft of the cabins
and saloon an awning was rigged over the stern. The solitary sailor
who controlled the launch was in the act of furling this protection
against the sun as Mark descended to the water; and while the man
did so, Brendon's eyes brightened, for a passenger already occupied
the boat: a woman sat there and he saw Jenny Pendean.

She wore black and he found, as he leaped aboard and greeted her,
that her mourning attire was an echo to her heart. That had happened
which convinced the young wife that all hope must be abandoned; she
knew that she was a widow, for the letter in her uncle's possession
told her so. She greeted the detective kindly and was glad that he
had responded to her invitation, but Mark soon found that her
attitude of mind had changed. She now exhibited an extreme
listlessness and profound melancholy. He told her that a letter from
himself had gone to her at Princetown and he asked her for
information respecting the communication received from Captain