“A good many in the Post Office, but not many outside. You see, being Saturday, most of the places were empty, except for caretakers. And now go to sleep.” “One more question only. Does any one know I was after Mullen when it happened?” “No, they thought you were passing by chance. You see I told them who you were, but I couldn’t tell them what had happened, as I didn’t know, and you couldn’t speak for yourself, so I thought I’d better say nothing until you were well enough to tell your own story.” “And Mullen got clean away?” “Look here, old man, this won’t do, you know. The doctor said you weren’t to be allowed to talk more than could be helped.” “Answer me that, then, and I’ll ask no more for the present.” “Yes, the ruffian got clean away, and no one knows to this day how he did it. Do you?” “Yes. I saw him do it.” “The deuce you did! But there, you shall tell me all about it to-morrow. Have a drop of beef-tea and then go to bye-bye.” Which I did. My powers of recuperation are great, and a few days saw me comparatively well in body, though by no means easy in mind. Up to this point my search for Captain Shannon had seemed to me a somewhat public-spirited and deserving enterprise. To bring such a scoundrel to justice would be doing a service to the country and to humanity; and in the wild scene of excitement which I knew would follow the news of his arrest I liked to picture myself as receiving the thanks of the community, and in fact being regarded very much as the hero of the hour. But while I had been lying in my room, idle in body but abnormally active in brain, the matter had presented itself to me in a very different light, and I was by no means sure that, were the facts made public, I should not be looked upon as a knave rather than as a hero. I had to ask myself seriously whether the course I had taken could be justified at all, and whether, by withholding from the authorities the suspicion I entertained about the man with the red beard, and by taking upon myself the responsibility of keeping, unaided, an eye upon his movements, I was not morally answerable for the lives which had been lost in the last terrible outrage he had effected. It was quite possible that, had I gone to the authorities _before_ the event and informed them of my unsupported suspicion, I should have been laughed at for my pains. But were I to come forward _after_ the event and admit that before the outrage occurred, and while yet there was time to prevent it, I had suspected the man with the brown bag to be James Mullen, and yet had withheld my suspicions from the police, I might be looked upon as less of a fool than a scoundrel.