"I believe he did; perhaps I can prove it." E. Dunkswell sank into a chair, pale as a ghost. Bunyard looked cheap, and said no more about being paid, and I retired from the presence of my defeated foes. Mr. Solomons insisted that they should be punished, especially Dunkswell, but I told him I could not prove that he had pushed me overboard; and I could not stay in London long enough to follow up the criminal. I engaged passage in the Saturday steamer for my mother and myself before returning to the hotel. We remained four days in London, during which time I kept my mother's mind fully occupied in replenishing her wardrobe. CHAPTER XXVI. IN WHICH ERNEST RETURNS TO PARKVILLE WITH HIS MOTHER, AND THE STORY ENDS ON THE SHORES OF LAKE ADIENO. IF E. Dunkswell had not helped me overboard, as I think he did, he might have reached London before I did, and thus defeated me, at least for a time. Twice had he confused and confounded his own schemes. Bunyard, deceived by the letter I had brought from my uncle, gave me the address of my mother. If not before, he learned his blunder when Dunkswell arrived. I could fancy the confusion with which they confronted each other when the facts came out. But it was "all up" with them. They had been "whipped out," and I was satisfied. I did not wish to prosecute them, because it would delay me, and because it would expose our family affairs, and subject my mother to more excitement than she could bear. She was weak and nervous, and I did not encourage her to talk much of the past. I went with her to Westminster Abbey, the Tower of London, and other places with which she was familiar. On Friday afternoon we bade adieu to Mr. Solomons, and went to Liverpool. My mother was now entirely changed in appearance. She had laid aside her worn-out black silk and her unfashionable bonnet. She looked like a lady, and she was one. I was proud of her. The future was now full of hope and joy to me, and I was the happiest young man in the world. On Saturday we sailed for home. My mother seemed then to feel that she was out of the reach of the enemy who had persecuted her for so many years. She overcame her nervousness, and her strength increased every day. I had purchased a rocking-chair in Liverpool for her use on the hurricane deck, and every pleasant day we sat together there. On these days my mother told me what she had suffered. I had not permitted her to do so before, anxious as I was to learn the facts. I will state them briefly, as I derived them from these conversations.