The man turned. "He found me in the sea," he said. "Moropulos was trading in those days. He had a sloop--pearl smuggling, I think. I thought he had told you. I never make any secret about it." "In the sea--for heavens sake what do you mean? Where?" "Ten miles off the Isle of Pines. I got away from Noumea in a boat. Noumea is the capital of New Caledonia. I and three _Canaques_--they were under sentence for cannibalism. We ran into a cyclone and swamped, just as we were trying to make the sloop which was standing in to the lee of the island. Moropulos took me on board and the natives; when he found that I was a convict--" "A convict--a French convict!" Sault was leaning easily, his cheek against the hand that gripped the edge of the open door. He nodded. "I thought he had told you. Of course, he would have taken me back to Noumea for the reward, only he had a cargo on board which he did not want the French to see. I found afterwards that when we called at the Loyalty Island, he tried to sell me back, but couldn't get a price." He smiled broadly as at a very pleasant recollection, "Moropulos would sell me now," he said, "only I am useful." "But why--why were you imprisoned?" asked Merville, awe-stricken at the tremendous revelation. "I killed a man," said Sault. "Good night, doctor." III It was a Monday morning and a bank holiday. A few regular habituées of the park to whom the word "holiday" had no especial significance, had overlooked the fact and took their cantering exercise a little selfconsciously under admiring eyes of the people who seldom saw people riding on horseback for the pleasure of it. The day was fine and warm, the hawthorn trees were thickly frosted with their cerise and white blossoms; stiff crocuses flamed in every bed and the banners of the daffodils fluttered in the light breeze that blew halfheartedly across the wide green spaces. On every path the holiday-makers straggled, small mothers laden with large babies; shopboys in garments secretly modelled on the supermen they served; girls from the stores in their bargain-price finery; young men with and without hats, the waitresses of closed teashops, and here and there a pompous member of the bourgeoisie conscious of his superiority to the crowd with which, in his condescension, he mingled.