“Maurice,” asked she suddenly, “what became of the other man?”
“Which other man?”
“The man who was with us; the other one, you know.”
“Poor Bates?”
“No, not Bates. The prisoner. What was his name?”
“Oh, ah—the prisoner,” said Frere, as if he, too, had forgotten.
“Why, you know, darling, he was sent to Port Arthur.”
“Ah!” said Sylvia, with a shudder. “And is he there still?”
“I believe so,” said Frere, with a frown.
“By the by,” said Vickers, “I suppose we shall have to get that fellow up for the trial. We have to identify the villains.”