yourself--except on that one subject. He'd worked up his old
hatred of Michael Pendean, as a shirker in the war, until it
festered in his head and poisoned his mind, so as he couldn't get
it under. That's how I read it. I had a pretty good contempt for
the poor chap myself and was properly savage with my niece, when
she wedded him against our wishes; but my feeling didn't turn my
head, and I felt glad to hear that Pendean was an honest man, who
did the best he could at the Moss Depôt."

Brendon considered.

"A very sound view," he said, "and likely to be correct. On the
strength of this letter, we may conclude that when he went home,
after disposing of the body under Berry Head, your brother must have
disguised himself in some way and taken an early train from
Paignton to Newton Abbot and from Newton Abbot to Plymouth. He would
already have been there and lying low before the hunt began."

"That's how I figure it," answered the sailor.

"When did you last see him, Mr. Redmayne?"

"Somewhere about a month ago. He came over for the day with Miss
Reed--the young woman he was going to marry."

"Was he all right then?"

Bendigo considered and scratched in his red beard.

"Noisy and full of chatter, but much as usual."