he would be a pacifist, cunning enough just to keep inside the
law, but with the eyes of the police on him. He would write books
which would not be allowed to be exported. He would get himself
disliked in the popular papers, but all the mugwumps would admire
his moral courage. I drew a mighty fine picture to myself of just the
man I expected to find. Then I started out to look for him.'

Blenkiron's face took on the air of a disappointed child. 'It was
no good. I kept barking up the wrong tree and wore myself out
playing the sleuth on white-souled innocents.'

'But you've found him all right,' I cried, a sudden suspicion
leaping into my brain.

'He's found,' he said sadly, 'but the credit does not belong to
John S. Blenkiron. That child merely muddied the pond. The big
fish was left for a young lady to hook.'

'I know,' I cried excitedly. 'Her name is Miss Mary Lamington.'

He shook a disapproving head. 'You've guessed right, my son,
but you've forgotten your manners. This is a rough business and
we won't bring in the name of a gently reared and pure-minded
young girl. If we speak to her at all we call her by a pet name out
of the _Pilgrim's _Progress ... Anyhow she hooked the fish, though he
isn't landed. D'you see any light?'

'Ivery,' I gasped.

'Yes. Ivery. Nothing much to look at, you say. A common,