"Thank you, Watson, for all you tried to do for me. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but I'll get over it in time, like everything else."
Watson could not refrain from a sigh of relief. He had feared that Barry would cut up roughly.
"That is so," he said, "but it's a hard knock for you. Now I've lots of other news for you. First of all I got your letters from Arrecifos safely. The John and Pauline whaler put them ashore at Levuka, and I can tell you I went to bed with a bad head that night."
"What did you do with Miss Maynard's—I beg her pardon—Mrs. Colonel Maclean's letter?"
"Posted it to her, and this is what I got in reply," and he showed him the note he had exhibited to his friend Tom Craig.
Barry read it with a smile of contempt. "What's the other news, Watson?"
"Ah, now I have something that will astonish you. Rawlings and the other chap are dead."
"Dead!"
"Aye, both of 'em."
"How do you know?" said Barry quickly.