"'About then'! You do me scant justice, amigo. There was a ship of that repellent title at Westover the day the boy disappeared. I know because I spent most of the day painting her. On canvas, not on her plates, you understand. And the old scow went out before I had finished; bound for the Channel Islands. All my ships go out before I have finished painting them."
There was silence for a little.
"It's in your lap, Farrar."
"So is my table napkin."
"A fortune. A charming small estate. Security. A — "
" Security, did you say?"
"After the initial gamble, of course," Loding said smoothly.
The light eyes that looked at him for a moment held a faint amusement.
"Hadn't it occurred to you at all, Mr. Loding, that the gamble was yours?"
"Mine?"