But these beliefs and impressions and speculations were, after all, of no importance in relation to the final issue of their visit to the prison, compared with what they had achieved in learning in what direction to begin their search for whatever Captain Lyman could tell them. When they had set out upon their journey to the prison, the only thing that they had before them was the discovery of the whereabouts of Captain Lyman, who might possibly be able to give them some information in regard to the woman whom Jack, with his acquaintance with the wickedness of men, had asserted, when face to face with Marcus Blaydon, that this same Blaydon had gone straight from gaol to meet. But from this rather indefinite quest they had come with some very definite information indeed, not respecting Captain Horace Lyman, but respecting the woman herself. They had no need of the help of Captain Lyman or the fulness of his knowledge just now. They were in a position to go direct to the woman, and then... “We are going ahead a bit too fast,” said Jack, when they had got so far in their review of all that they had gained by their visit to the prison. “We would do well not to go just yet beyond the point when we set out for Canada.” “_We?_” cried Priscilla. “Do you mean to say that you would take me with you?” “I told you a long time ago that I meant to run no risks where you are concerned, and that’s my situation still,” replied Jack. “I do not intend to let you out of my sight until this business is settled. It is about time that you had a holiday, and there’s no better place for holiday-making than Canada in the Fall.” She could not speak to acknowledge her appreciation of his care for her. She pulled his arm about her and nestled in its hollow. “There is no such amazing sight--no such picture of colour in the whole world as the Canadian backwoods in the Fall,” he continued. “It will amaze you. The sight of those leaves...” Off he went, and for the rest of the evening they threw aside every consideration of the ostensible object of their trip to Canada and devoted themselves to their itinerary of the St. Lawrence, with excursions north and south, and a week at Niagara. Not another word did they say about the man or the woman, or the possible effect of producing the latter in the English courts to testify to the man’s perfidy. They were going on a holiday together, and that was enough for them. They exchanged plans until bed-time. Even at breakfast the next morning Priscilla returned to the topic, asking him what clothes she should take with her on her journey, and he replied that she couldn’t do better than take the usual sort; an answer that sent her into a little fit of laughter which lasted until he had shaken his newspaper out of its folds and glanced at the first page. Then her laughter was stopped by his familiar exclamation: “Great Gloriana! What’s this?” “What’s what?” she asked.