"Miss Bellairs shall never marry Carson if I can help it."
"Perhaps not, Mallow, but I don't exactly see how you can help it. This morning I saw Carson, and he tells me the ceremony is to take place in a fortnight."
"A great deal can be done in a fortnight, Jim."
"Old man?" questioned Jim, with a stare, "have you anything up your sleeve?"
"Only my mistrust of Carson, as Carson."
"What! that old game? You are becoming a maniac on that subject, Mallow. It's all bosh, you know. Carson is Carson, right enough. Mrs. Purcell, Semberry, Mr. Brock,--they've all said as much."
"No doubt," replied Mallow, dryly. "But not one of them has explained why Carson's clothes should be impregnated with sandal-wood as were those of the man in Athelstane Place."
"You'll find nothing there to help you," said Aldean, shaking his head. "What the police couldn't do, you won't."
"Then I shall go to the police themselves."
"You'll look for a needle in a haystack, you mean. However, if you have made up your mind, I suppose you must go on your wild-goose chase. When may I expect you back from it?"