"Let's hunt them up again, then. You lead on, for I know nothing of the place." "But how on earth did you come here?" asked Clive, beginning to find time for astonishment. "Well, I heard from old Davis--I must telegraph to him, by the bye--and came down last night, made a few inquiries, and hearing the Queen of the Ocean was to sail, kept an eye upon her." It sounded so simple in Jack's cheery voice, that Clive, who had fancied he had arranged so as to baffle all pursuit, listened with a blank conviction of powerlessness. "My coming away didn't matter much," he muttered. "Except to yourself," said Ibbetson quietly. "Hallo, is this the street?" Clive was silent through all the transactions which followed, but when, restored to his own garments, he and Ibbetson had nearly reached the hotel, he said suddenly,-- "I don't know how much or how little you know, but you may as well hear the right facts." "Not till we've breakfasted," said Jack with decision. "This early rising has a wonderful effect upon the appetite. Breakfast first, afterwards your story if you like, and then we'll go up by the 11:30 train." CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. CLIVE. Clive's shyness and depression made it no easy matter to get at the facts, even when he had begun to tell them. He was cast down by this failure of what he had set his heart upon, slow to believe that he was trusted, and on his side suspicious of the other man's intentions, until Jack grew angry. It is difficult for those who all their life long have been accustomed to have unhesitating credit given to their word, to understand the doubts, the fears of those less fortunate in trust, though perhaps not less deserving of it. And yet as Clive sat in the coffee room, with his elbows on the table, his misery was so apparent that Jack resolved to do his best to pull him through. He worked his questions patiently backwards and forwards. "All that's clear enough," he said, leaning back and clasping his hands round his knee. "You owed a little money, and that means of escape-- though destruction would be the better word--always _is_ placed conveniently near at hand. Don't tell me any more about that part of the business. The other half is the most important. You had scraped together the money, principal and interest?" "Every penny," said Clive looking up quickly. "How could you manage that?" "I'm sure I hardly know," he said with a half laugh. Then he added, with more confidence than he had yet shown--"You wouldn't understand my shifts. I sold some things, and the rest I got out of myself somehow. I wonder now I didn't break down." "I expect you did," muttered Ibbetson, glancing at the hollow cheeks, and reflecting that this foolish attempt at escape was probably the outcome of broken-down nerves resulting from a life of semi-starvation. And Trent had looked on pitilessly! Clive went on with his story in a dull voice, making no attempt to appeal to his hearer's sympathies: