“Quite so,” Onslow agreed. “And I dare say we shall learn the details about that later. But to come back to the piece of knavery we were interested in, I may say that Shelf seems to have been prepared for the smash. Three days ago I had a letter from him (which had been passed on the road by the newspaper cablegram) telling me to transmit the stuff to a place in South America, where he would meet it. The money would have been a pleasant little nest-egg for him to begin life again on somewhere beyond the allurements of extradition treaties; and I’ve no doubt that if he had got it he would have sailed ahead brilliantly. But he hasn’t, and he’s in jail; and he will be set up on high as a warning to the universe. There are a good many of us thieves, Kettle; and he was the cleverest of the lot; and he has made a mess of it. Mr. Theodore Shelf will be a wonderful reforming influence in his fall. He’ll do more good to the morality of the world by coming a cropper than he ever did by preaching. However, he clearly couldn’t handle the money if I did send it to South America now, and, being a convict, he can’t hold property; and so (perhaps jesuitically) I hold myself clear of all pledge to him; and that’s how the matter stands.” Captain Kettle pulled at his short, red beard. “Then if you two aren’t taking any, who on earth is to get this money? Hang me if I can see!” “The proper owners, whoever they may be,” replied Onslow. “But they’ll have to be found, and at present I haven’t the vaguest notion as to who they are. In fact, as we now stand, there’s our half-million of English sovereigns and a romping fine steamer going a-begging.”