"Chater," said Faunce, in a very earnest voice, "do you think Colonel Rannock ever got as far as Klondyke?—as far as Dawson City?—as far as 'Frisco?—as far as New York?"
"God knows, sir! I think the case looks—fishy."
"I have reason to know that he wasn't at 'Frisco in time to start for Vancouver with the pal you talk of, Mr. Bamford—and that Bamford and another friend sailed without him."
"I know that, sir. Mr. Haldane, the gentleman who came to me for information, told me the result of his inquiry."
"And this made you rather uneasy, didn't it, Chater?"
"Well, I didn't like to hear it, Mr. Faunce. But my master is a rum sort. He might change his mind at the last minute. He might go back to her."
"He didn't do that, Chater. I can answer for him."
"What do you know about her?"
"A good deal. Was she at Waterloo to see your master off by the boat-train?"
"Not she! They had one of their quarrels in Paris—and he left her there to find her way home by herself."