"_Can_ one take one's choice?" said Dr. Vinsen, walking by Dick's side, and ignoring his companion's distaste for his society. "Is it open to us to do so? Are we free agents? Are we not rather like boats on a strange sea, with hidden currents that whirl us on, and occasionally bring destruction upon us--des-truc-tion up-on us? Do you happen to be aware if the missing man has returned to the bosom of his family?" "I am not aware of it. I should consider it very unlikely." "Then you have a theory concerning his mysterious disappearance." Dick shook his head sullenly. "No? Perhaps you are right not to trouble yourself. I perceive that you are not in the mood for conversation. My dear young friend, I take my leave. If I can be of any service, pray command me." So saying, Dr. Vinsen raised his hat, affording the world a view of his bald head and his halo, and slowly ambled away. "Confound you!" said Dick, looking after him. "Why did you raise your hat to me? I am not that kind of man, you know." His mind was in a state to magnify and distort the simplest matters. To such an extent that the voice of a newsboy shouting in an adjoining street caused him to hurry in that direction to buy a paper. There was nothing in it touching the murder, and he crumpled it up and threw it into the road So he idled away the time until a few minutes before nine, when he entered the Bishop Street Police Station, where his uncle expected him. "Well, Dick, my lad," said Inspector Robson, "things have taken a turn since our talk the night before last." "They have, indeed," returned Dick, and thought, "If you knew all!" "It has been a terrible time," said the inspector, "and we owe you what we can never repay." "You make too much of it, uncle. What did I do but go to Florence when she asked me? Did you stop long with her?" "Till the last minute. Had tea there. It's a blessing the mystery's over; it almost drove me mad. It isn't a pleasant reflection that Reginald is the son of such a man as Samuel Boyd, but it would be hard lines to blame children for the faults of their parents. Have you seen Mrs. Death and her little girl?" "Yes," replied Dick, "I have been twice to their lodgings, and they have heard nothing of the missing man. They are in great poverty--there are seven little children----" "Poor creature! How's the little girl?" "There's a chance of her getting well. A friend has unexpectedly turned up, and a doctor is attending her." Then he related all that he knew of Dr. Vinsen. "Have you ever heard of him, uncle?"