Jacintha led the way up a path on the mound, and we all entered the summer-house, which was quite large, with seats round the sides and a table in the middle.

'Have you got the chocolates, Dick?' she asked, and at the same time began to unload her own pocket, which contained a bag with some preserved apricots in it, two oranges, and two pears. 'I often bring my dessert out here,' she explained, 'only to-day Auntie said she hoped I should not make myself ill.'

'Mind you don't,' said Dick.

'Have a pear, Everard,' she suggested, and accordingly I took one. 'Uncle has just started out with Auntie in the motor-car,' she continued, 'so I want you to begin at the beginning and tell us everything, you know—just everything.'

I looked at Dick, who was pinching an orange so as to make a hole in it to suck the juice, but he did not speak; so, having eaten a preserved apricot, I sat down next to Jacintha, wishing she had not so hastily drawn away her white skirt, and began.

I cannot accuse myself of speaking a word that was not true that afternoon, but it must be confessed that the chief object was to impress Dick with the conviction that I was not what he might easily take me to be. Accordingly, I glossed over the character of Aunt Marion's household, and dwelt upon the wealth and importance of Captain Knowlton. I brought tears to Jacintha's eyes when I told her of the loss of the Seagull, of his death and the difference in my treatment at the hands of Mr. Turton; but what seemed to have the greatest effect on her brother was the story of my encounter with the tramp who stole my money, and the other events of my journey.

'Still,' he said, being the first to speak when I ended the story, 'I don't see what you are going to do when you get to London.'

'Neither do I,' cried Jacintha.

'Oh, I shall do something right enough,' I answered with all the confidence I could assume.

'I tell you what I believe,' said Dick. 'I believe Captain Knowlton is not dead after all. You see if I am not right. You don't know really that he was drowned.'

'If he were not,' I answered, 'he would have sent a telegram, because he would know the Seagull had been reported lost.'

'Still, you cannot tell,' Dick insisted, 'and if I were you, as soon as I got to London, I should go to his rooms in the Albany.'

But this was a point I had already considered.

'You see,' I said, 'very likely Mr. Turton has been there and told them to keep me——'

'I did not think of that,' Dick admitted. 'Still, I don't see what you will do in London. And, of course, I live there, though I'm going to a crammer's at Richmond next term.'

'Everard was going to be sent to Sandhurst, too,' said Jacintha quietly.

'What a lark,' he exclaimed, 'if Captain Knowlton should turn up, and you should be there at the same time.'

But this was more than my imagination at the moment was capable of. I felt very, very far from going to Sandhurst, and, indeed, a kind of sense that Dick and Jacintha belonged to a different world from mine was fast growing upon me.

'I say,' said Dick, presently, for his manner had now become all that I could desire, 'how much money have you got left?'

'One and twopence,' I answered, and he looked solemn at that.

'But still,' cried Jacintha, 'you forget the locket.'

'Why, of course, there is the locket,' said her brother; 'let us have a look at it, Everard.'

I took it from my waistcoat again, and holding it close to his nose, Dick at once looked for the hall-mark.

'It is gold right enough,' he added.

'You can sell it for quite a lot of money,' urged Jacintha, 'because you picked it up, and you can never find the real owner. I should think you would get a good deal for it.'

'If you don't mind my saying so——' began Dick, and pausing, he looked into my face.

'Cut along,' I said.

'Well, if you took it to sell, the chap might—he might think you had stolen it.'

'You see,' said Jacintha hastily, 'we could take you to the bath-room, and Dick could lend you some of his clothes; but Auntie would be certain to find out, and Uncle has kept Mr. Turton's card, and he said that if he saw you he should take you back to Castlemore.'

'Can't go back,' said Dick, in a tone of authority. 'I know!' he exclaimed, after a thoughtful silence.

'What?' demanded his sister.

'Look here, Everard,' he explained, 'there is a good shop in High Street, Foster's, where my people buy things. I know old Foster—a decent sort of chap. If I were to take the locket——'

'What would you say when he asked you where you got it?' asked Jacintha.

At that we all stared into each other's faces, and I felt disappointed at the suggestion. For I had judgment enough, after my experience in selling my watch and chain, to see that in my present untidy condition I could not myself deal with the trinket to the best advantage. A respectable jeweller would probably decline to buy it at all, whereas a less honest dealer would not give me a third of its value.

'I have it!' cried Dick, after a few minutes' pause. 'You drop the locket on the floor, Everard,' and with a glimmering of his purpose, I took it again from my pocket and let it fall on to the boarded floor of the summer-house. He immediately stooped.

'Now,' he said, 'I can tell old Foster I have picked up a locket and that I don't know whose it is, and I want to sell it. I will get my bicycle and ride into the town at once; but look here, old chap,' he added, taking my arm in quite a friendly way, 'you had better not wait here. Just hang about outside in the road, and don't let them see you if they come back first in the motor-car. I say, Jacintha, it will look better if you come to Foster's too.'

'It's awfully good of you,' I answered as we all went down the slope. 'How much do you think I shall get?'

'I should think you might get twenty-five shillings,' said Dick, as if he knew all about it.

'I wish I might,' I cried.

'Well,' he insisted, 'you get into the road and keep dark a bit, and we will scorch into the town like anything.'

With that they both set off across the field while I scrambled through the gap in the hedge, and returned to my former position on the grassy side of the road, lying down and waiting expectantly to see Dick and Jacintha ride out through the gate; and with the prospect of obtaining possession of twenty-five shillings, it really began to seem as if the foundation of my fortune had been laid.

CHAPTER XV.

A very few minutes later Dick rode through the gate followed by Jacintha, who raised an arm as she turned to the right, pedalled up the slight hill, and soon disappeared as she began to descend on the other side. Rising to my feet I had waved my arm in return, and I was strolling about the grass beside the road, already impatient to see Dick and Jacintha returning and to learn the full extent of my wealth, when I heard a motor-car panting along the road.

A glance showed that it was driven by the man who had accompanied Jacintha that morning she spied me in the corn-field, and a few moments later he steered the car into his gate. It seemed a long time before I saw the head of Dick and then of his sister appear above the crest of the hill. Dick, in his eagerness to reach me, pedalled all the way down.

'I say, Everard,' he exclaimed as soon as he reached me, 'how much do you think?'

'Did you get the twenty-five shillings?' I asked.

'Two pounds——' began Jacintha, dismounting from her bicycle.

'Let me tell him,' cried Dick. 'Two pounds three and sixpence,' he added with an air of triumph.

'I am most awfully obliged to you,' I said, as he took a purse from his jacket pocket.

'Not so bad,' he continued, 'is it? You see I told old Foster he must give a tip-top price, and of course he knows me. At first, I thought he was not going to buy the thing at all; he said he didn't know whether my uncle would like it, and all that.'

'And he said we ought to have bills printed to say it was found,' added Jacintha.

'But I talked him out of that,' said Dick, 'and here is the money,' he continued, counting out the two sovereigns, a half-crown and a shilling.

'Mind you don't lose any of it,' suggested Jacintha.

'No fear,' I answered.

'I say, where are you going to sleep to-night?' asked Dick.

'Oh, well,' I replied, and I am afraid that my newly acquired wealth made me a little proud, 'I dare say I can find an hotel in Hazleton.'

'Do you think they will take you in?' said Dick.

'I wonder whether we shall see you in London,' cried Jacintha, 'because we are going home next week.'

'And I say, Everard,' said her brother, 'take my word for it, I should not be a scrap surprised if Captain Knowlton was rescued after all.'

'Dick,' suggested Jacintha, 'don't you think we ought to go in to tea?'

'Perhaps we ought,' he admitted. 'Well, good-bye,' he added, and with that he held out his hand. When I shook Jacintha's a moment afterwards, I wished once again that my own hands were cleaner.

'Good-bye,' she cried. 'I am glad the locket was not mine,' and then they both re-mounted their bicycles, rode up the hill, waved their hands once more, and disappeared from my sight.

In spite of the possession of the money for the locket, a sense of depression fell upon me. I had grown quickly friendly with the pair, and they seemed to bring me back to the life which I felt more acutely than before I had lost for ever.

(Continued on page 134.)