"Well, it must be quite two weeks since the Pharaoh arrived. What an ardent lover the chap must be. I wish I stood in his shoes, that's all. I wouldn't let the grass grow under them on the way to my 'own true love'--not that Miss Bellairs can strictly be said to stand in that relation to a man she has never set eyes upon. The very fact that she has to marry him should be sufficient to make her hate him."
"By Jove! What a rum go it would be if Carson turned out to be the man murdered in Athelstane Place!"
Mallow stared. "What on earth put such a wild idea into your head?" he said.
"I don't know; nor do I know why you should be so ready to call it wild. The man who was killed came from India--as you say----"
"I don't say so. It is the theory of the Morning Planet."
"It is just possible that it might be Carson, seeing that he hasn't turned up at Casterwell," continued Aldean, not heeding Mallow's interruption.
"Really, Jim, I didn't credit you with such a vivid imagination."
"Oh, of course it's merely an idea, Mallow. But what strikes me is that if Carson arrived two weeks ago, he certainly ought to have put in an appearance at Casterwell before this, if only out of curiosity to see his future wife."
"My dear fellow, Carson may need a kit before he calls on Miss Bellairs. He surely would wish to create a good impression, and I don't suppose he would present himself in sandal-wood scented clothes."
"I never said he would. But even so, that wouldn't take him a fortnight."