Of course, there was no certainty that our capture had anything to do with these robberies. Quarles based his conviction on the fact that I had spoken to another detective, Percival, who was known to have the case in hand. He believed that I had been seen, that it was concluded that the case was in my hands, that in hunting for the chalice I had stumbled on the other trail, was so hot upon it, in fact, that prompt action on the thieves' part was absolutely necessary. It was obvious that our capture must be a clue to something; it was natural, perhaps, to jump to the conclusion that it concerned these robberies, but Quarles's arguments did not altogether convince me. I had half a dozen men hunting for young Squires, who had almost certainly led us into an ambush that night and who had disappeared completely. His old haunts had not known him for a long time; his old companions had lost sight of him. It was generally understood that he had cut his old ways and had turned pious, an evident reference to the hooligan club. At one time he had certainly been friendly with some of the members of a gang I knew of, a gang quite likely to be responsible for these robberies, but inquiries went to show that this gang had practically ceased to exist as an organization. For nearly a week I was busy morning, noon, and night collecting evidence and facts which were retailed to Quarles, and then I broke down. Nervous energy had kept me going, I suppose, but the blow I had received was not to be ignored. The doctor ordered rest, and I went to Folkestone. I suppose I looked ill, and, perchance, a little interesting; at any rate, I was the recipient of quite a lot of sympathy, and it was on the third afternoon of my stay in the hotel that Mrs. Selborne spoke to me. She had heard me telling some one that I was recovering from an accident. She had a yacht in the harbor. She had great faith in the recuperating power of yachting. She would have her skipper up that evening, if I would make use of the yacht next day. I hesitated to accept her kind offer. She evidently meant me to go alone; said she had not intended to use the yacht on the following day; but it was finally arranged that she should take me for a sail. It was the first of several. On the first occasion she also took a lady staying in the hotel, and on the second a lad who was there with his parents, but as they were both bad sailors we went by ourselves the third time. "It spoils the pleasure to see other people ill," said Mrs. Selborne. "I think we might really go alone without unduly shocking people." So it happened that I was enjoying the breeze and the sunshine under ideal circumstances and with as charming a companion as a man could wish to have.