"Yes! It is all in order. The Colonel was a most methodical man, and left his estate in the best of conditions. We are now arranging for letters patent for this change of name. Our client has arranged to call himself Marsh-Carr. I suppose he did not like the idea of Carr alone." "Can you wonder at it considering the reputation of the name?" "No! not a very nice name to give one's wife," laughed Frith rising. "Well good-bye Dr. Herrick. I am glad to have seen you, and still more glad to think that our client has so excellent a friend at his elbow." Herrick laughed at this praise and departed, very pleased that he had been received in so friendly a way. He fancied at one time that Frith might have looked upon him as an interloper, and it was a great compliment to him, that these shrewd lawyers should be so satisfied with Stephen's choice of a friend. From the city Herrick went to the Strand in search of the Hull Hotel. He was now very doubtful of Robin's honesty. If the man had lied in one thing he would in another. Jim was quite prepared to find that Joyce was not known at the Strand public-house, but in this instance he proved to be wrong. Directed by a friendly policeman, he soon found the place. It was a small pot-house of anything but a reputable appearance. Herrick stepped inside, and was confronted by a stout woman with a squint. In answer to his inquiry for the landlord, she announced that the house belonged to her, and demanded his business. Herrick seeing the necessity for caution went about his task in an artful way. "There was a friend of mine who stayed here on the night of the twenty-fourth of July last," he said. "He wrote to me from this place on that date, and as I have received no letter since, I have come to inquire if he is still to be found here?" "What is his name sir?" "Mr. Robin Joyce." "Don't know it," grunted the landlady. "Robin Joyce," she rubbed her nose, and then shouted. "Tilda! Do you know a party as stayed here called Robin Joyce? Look up the books--twenty-fourth July." A smart-looking girl dressed in a tawdry manner made her appearance and requested her mother (the stout lady was her mother it appeared) not to make such a noise. Then she addressed herself to Herrick. "I need not look at the books sir. I remember Mr. Robin Joyce quite well. A little man is he not--clean-shaven--with rather long hair and big, big black eyes. Nervous manner sir." "That is him," replied Herrick thankful to hear that his friend was known at the address he had given. "He slept here on the night of the twenty-fourth of July." "Beg your pardon sir, but he did nothing of the sort. He came here after mid-day with a black bag and engaged a room. Then he went out almost at once, promising to be back to dinner. It was ordered, but he never came. No sir, I did not see him until mid-day next morning." "You are certain he did not sleep here on that night."