The book supplied other details, but Royson obtained from the foregoing extracts a sufficiently clear idea of the identity of the two people whom he had encountered in the park. Of course, he set his wits to work instantly to construct new avenues for the promised activity of the _Aphrodite_, but, these imaginings being as hopelessly mistaken as are most other human peeps into futurity, they served only to keep him on tenterhooks until he revisited the outfitters' establishment. There he was handed the keys of two large steel trunks, canvas-covered, and requested to assure himself that they contained all the articles set forth on a list. The manager also gave him a first-class ticket for Marseilles, and a typewritten instruction that he was to travel by the nine o'clock train from Victoria that evening. On arriving at the French port he would find the _Aphrodite_ moored in No. 3. Basin, and he was requested not to wear any portion of his uniform until on board the yacht. The nature of the arrangements, the prodigal supply of clothing, rather took Dick's breath away. Even the initials, "R. K.," were painted on the trunks and stitched on to the canvas. "My employer seems to have done things pretty thoroughly," he could not help saying. The shopman dug a compliment out of the remark. "Our house has a reputation to maintain," he answered, "and Mr. Fenshawe is one of our best and oldest customers." There was no mention of Count von Kerber, which added a ripple to the wave of astonishment in Royson's breast. He took his baggage to Charing Cross in a cab, and deposited it there. Meanwhile, he learned from a further scrutiny of the list that his own few belongings were hardly wanted. He had not been so well equipped since he left Heidelberg to rush to his mother's death-bed. Nevertheless, having already gathered in a valise some books, photographs, letters, and other odds and ends, he went to Brixton to obtain them. While giving a farewell glance around his dingy room, an old envelope, thrown aside overnight, reminded him of a half-formed idea, which appealed to him strongly now that he knew his port of departure. So he wrote a short letter: Dear Mr. Forbes: