"Quite so. However, miss, these aren't the sort of things for you to meddle with. I may at some future time require your evidence, and in that case I'll let you know. Meanwhile, what you have told me, and your description of this young man, will be most useful. They shall have it in Liverpool within half an hour. Good-day to you, Miss Crane, good-day." As Miriam turned the corner from the police station, she drew one long sigh of relief. For once it seemed as though Fortune were on her side. Inspector Prince might have been a very different kind of man, and then, well, Miriam had an uncomfortable conviction that her interview might have had a very different kind of ending. As it was she made her way to the station with a comparatively light heart, feeling that not only she herself but Jabez was perfectly safe. By means of the description she had provided, he would never be found in Liverpool or anywhere else. There was the best part of an hour before her train left for London, so she went into the restaurant and ordered a chop. When she came out the platform was already crowded, although there was still a quarter of an hour to wait. She was strung up and impatient, and the time seemed an eternity to her. At last the train was signalled and the bell rang. She stood beside the porter who was carrying her things. Suddenly she drew back with an exclamation of terror. There, on the platform before her, showing himself boldly to the world, was Jabez! CHAPTER XVII. A ROMAN FATHER. "Do you mean to tell me you are actually engaged to that penniless scamp," raged Dr. Marsh, bringing his fist down on the table. "For Heaven's sake, George, take care of the china," implored his wife; "four cups already are broken, and it's so difficult to match this----" "Answer me, Hilda!" The young girl raised her head, in no wise daunted by the paternal wrath. "If Gerald were not poor, he would not be so much of a scamp in your eyes, father," she said bitterly. "Engaged?--I am not so much engaged but that I can be quickly disengaged. I have only to tell Gerald you refuse your consent and the reason, play the part of a dutiful daughter generally, and the thing's settled, or rather unsettled." "You should not have engaged yourself to the fellow without being certain of what you were doing," fumed Marsh. "I couldn't be more certain," retorted Hilda. "When an old man goes the length of announcing a nephew as his heir, and actually makes a will in his favour, you naturally think that nephew will get the money. It isn't my fault that the will disappeared. I wasn't to know that." "Of course not, dear," put in Mrs. Marsh; "but as it is now you must give up Gerald." "And marry the Major, I suppose? What do you think I'm made of, I wonder, to turn like this from one man to another? I love Gerald as much as I could love any man. Why should I give him up now?"