I confess I was a little surprised at this eager advocacy of my cause on the part of Fanshawe; I could not understand it. I firmly believed that he thought I had killed the man Olivant; but I should have imagined he was the last person to endeavour to shield me. Yet here he was carrying on that trick that had been practised on every one, and assisting me to hide Murray Olivant away. I could not understand it. "Tell me one thing," persisted Dawkins. "Does he take the girl with him?" I answered immediately: "No; he does not take her. He does not even know where she is, and he has decided to give up the whole business." "I can't understand it, and I don't believe it," said Dawkins, moving towards the door. "You're hiding something from me." I slipped my hand into my pocket, and drew out the envelope containing the steamer tickets. Without a word I pulled out the tickets, and showed them to him. "I am to meet my master early to-morrow morning with these, and to take him on board. Does that convince you?" He looked at the tickets and at me; something in my manner evidently impressed him. "Well," he said, "it's no affair of mine--and he was always an erratic sort of fellow. But why couldn't he have let me know that he was going?" "You forget," I reminded him, "that you have been endeavouring to get a large sum of money out of him." "There's something in that," he replied, with a laugh. "I don't like being made a fool of; I hope the infernal vessel will blow up, or sink, or something, with the pair of you on board." "Thank you, sir," I responded quietly, as he went out, slamming the door after him. Jervis Fanshawe was seated on the bed, rubbing his hands, and laughing softly to himself. "That was well done, Charlie; that was excellently done," he said, in a hoarse whisper. "You're a clever fellow, Charlie; you've covered up the traces beautifully." "I don't understand you," I replied coldly. "There are no traces to cover up, beyond those we know already. Murray Olivant is in hiding----" "That's it--in hiding," he whispered, nodding his head many times, and sucking in his lips, and rubbing his long bony hands together. "In hiding's the word. And he'll sleep soundly to-night--won't he, Charlie?" "I imagine so," I replied, looking at him steadily. "Why do you insist upon that point?" "Do I insist upon it, Charlie?" he asked innocently. "Not at all--not at all. Only I like to think of him in those snug rooms of his in Lincoln's Inn Fields--sleeping well--sleeping as long as he likes, Charlie--eh?" There was that between us which seemed to make it necessary that my eyes should seek his, and that his should be fastened on mine. Even when I moved round the room, I saw that his eyes followed me. And I knew what was in his mind. I would not trust him; I would never trust him again; for the sake of the boy who had done this thing in a moment of madness, I must let Fanshawe think what he would.