"So far as I know, Miss Martha was the one relative he had in the world," answered the Doctor. "So much the better, my friend, seeing that you have (as I understand) her entire confidence." "I was about to suggest that--circumstances having forced you into prominence--to take the lead, so to speak, in this unhappy affair--" "But why do we talk of price?" interposed Mr. Basket briskly, "seeing that the loss, if loss it be, is nothing short of irreparable? To my mind there is something--er--" "Desecrating," suggested the Doctor. "Quite so--desecrating--in this reduction of our poor friend to pounds, shillings, and pence." "Nevertheless it is usual to name a sum," the Chief Constable assured them. "Shall we say fifty pounds?" Mr. Basket took off his spectacles and wiped them with a trembling hand. Dr. Hansombody stood considering, pulling thoughtfully at his lower lip. "I think I can undertake," he suggested, "that the Town Council will contribute a moiety of that sum. Something can be done by private subscription." Mr. Basket brightened visibly. "Put it at fifty pounds, then," he commanded, with a wave of the hand. "Should Providence see fit to restore him to us, our friend, as a reasonable man, will doubtless discharge some part of the expenses." Accordingly the bill was drafted, and the Chief Constable, after running his blue pencil through some of its more monumental periods, engaged to have it printed and distributed. "Do you know," confessed Mr. Basket, as he and the Doctor walked homewards, "I felt all the while as if we were composing our friend's epitaph. I have a presentimen--" "Do not utter it, my dear sir!" the Doctor entreated. "He was a man--" "Yes, yes; 'taking one thing with another, it is more than likely we shall never see him again.' The words, sir, struck upon my spirit like the tolling of a bell. But for Heaven's sake let us not despair!" "Life is precarious, Dr. Hansombody; as your profession, if any, should teach. We are here to-day; we are gone--in the more sudden cases--to-morrow. What do you say, sir, to a glass of wine at the 'Benbow'? To my thinking, we should both be the better for it." CHAPTER XVIII. APOTHEOSIS. At this point my pen falters. The order of events would require us now to travel back to Troy with Miss Marty and the Doctor and break the news to the town. But have you the heart for it? Not I.