Ward, Willow, and Co., Fenchurch Street, and Stavanger’s present alias is John Morton. A word or two more. The scoundrel had half a notion for a few minutes of remaining here, on the chance of being able to ‘stop your gallop,’ as he called it. In other words, if he can ever get half a chance he will murder you, as he considers that if the world were rid of Miss Cory and her father he would be perfectly safe. I persuaded him that it would be foolish for him to linger here, and vowed that I could find a safe method of disposing of you. I am actually to have a hundred pounds as soon as I can prove Stavanger’s enemies to be no longer in the land of the living. Nice for you, isn’t it? But there is no fear of my ever earning that hundred pounds, nor of him ever employing anyone else to earn it, since he is sure to be in your power soon.” CHAPTER XIII. MORE DISAPPOINTMENTS. The “Hornby Cross,” having accomplished its voyage in safety, was viewed with considerable interest as it was being manœuvred into Millwall Dock, whither it had brought a cargo of grain from India. Among the onlookers were a few whose attention was the result of curiosity alone; but the greater part of the small crowd assembled at the dock gates had business of some sort on board. There were relatives and friends of the returning seafarers, eagerly looking out for their own folk, and anxious to see them again after their long voyage. And there were numbers of touters for nearly every trade that can be patronised by seafarers. There was also Mr. Gay, a detective whom we have met before, talking to an elderly clergyman and a slim young man, whose clear blue eyes keenly watched the operations on board the incoming vessel. Presently she was near enough to be boarded by the most venturous spirits in the crowd, and these were soon clambering about in what seemed a very reckless fashion to those unused to the sight. Among the first to touch the “Hornby Cross’s” deck was Mr. Gay, and he at once made for the captain, who was standing on the bridge, contentedly watching the operations of the dock pilot, into whose charge the vessel had been put. “Good morning, sir,” said Mr. Gay, touching his hat in greeting. “I am glad to see you safe in port. My name is Gay. You will have received the note I sent you by the pilot this morning.” “Your name is Gay, is it? Well, I guess you won’t feel like your name for a bit. Your note came too late, sir.” “The deuce! Do you mean to say that Morton, as he calls himself, has given us the slip?” “I do. You see, I would have done my best to help you if I had had only half a notion who my passenger was. As I hadn’t, you can’t be surprised at being done.” “But the man really started from Bombay with you?”