Lenora shrugged her shoulders.  She was certainly a very different-looking person from the tired, trembling girl who had heard Macdougal sentenced not many weeks ago.

“Could anyone feel much sympathy,” she asked, “with those men?  Red Gallagher, as they all called him, is more like a great brute animal than a human being.  I think that even if they had sentenced him to death I should have felt that it was quite the proper thing to have done.”

“Too much sentiment about those things,” Quest agreed, clipping the end off a cigar.  “Men like that are better off the face of the earth.  They did their best to send me there.”

“Here’s a cablegram for you!” Lenora exclaimed, bringing it over to him.  “Mr. Quest, I wonder if it’s from Scotland Yard!”

Quest tore it open.  They read it together, Lenora standing on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder: 

“Stowaway answering in every respect your description of Craig found on ‘Durham.’  Has been arrested, as desired, and will be taken to Hamblin House for identification by Lord Ashleigh.  Reply whether you are coming over, and full details as to charge.”

“Good for Scotland Yard!” Quest declared.  “So they’ve got him, eh?  All the same, that fellow’s as slippery as an eel.  Lenora, how should you like a trip across the ocean, eh?”

“I should love it,” Lenora replied.  “Do you mean it really?”

Quest nodded.

“The fellow’s fooled me pretty well,” he continued, “but somehow I feel that if I get my hands on him this time, they’ll stay there till he stands where Red Gallagher did to-day.  I don’t feel content to let anyone else finish off the job.  Got any relatives over there?”

“I have an aunt in London,” Lenora told him, “the dearest old lady you ever knew.  She’d give anything to have me make her a visit.”

Quest moved across to his desk and took up a sailing list.  He studied it for a few moments and turned back to Lenora.

“Send a cable off at once to Scotland Yard,” he directed.  “Say—­’Am sailing on Lusitania to-morrow.  Hold prisoner.  Charge very serious.  Have full warrants.’”

Lenora wrote down the message and went to the telephone to send it off.  As soon as she had finished, Quest took up his hat again.

“Come on,” he invited.  “The machine’s outside.  We’ll just go and look in on the Professor and tell him the news.  Poor old chap, I’m afraid he’ll never be the same man again.”

“He must miss Craig terribly,” Lenora observed, as they took their places in the automobile, “and yet, Mr. Quest, it does seem to me a most amazing thing that a man so utterly callous and cruel as Craig must be, should have been a devoted and faithful servant to anyone through all these years.”

Quest nodded.

“I am beginning to frame a theory about that.  You see, all the time Craig has lived with the Professor, he has been a sort of dabbler with him in his studies.  Where the Professor’s gone right into a thing and understood it, Craig, you see, hasn’t managed to get past the first crust.  His brain wasn’t educated enough for the subjects into the consideration of which the Professor may have led him.  See what I’m driving at?”