I cannot accuse myself of speaking a word that was not true that afternoon, but it must be confessed that the chief object was to impress Dick with the conviction that I was not what he might easily take me to be. Accordingly, I glossed over the character of Aunt Marion's household, and dwelt upon the wealth and importance of Captain Knowlton. I brought tears to Jacintha's eyes when I told her of the loss of the Seagull, of his death and the difference in my treatment at the hands of Mr. Turton; but what seemed to have the greatest effect on her brother was the story of my encounter with the tramp who stole my money, and the other events of my journey.
'Still,' he said, being the first to speak when I ended the story, 'I don't see what you are going to do when you get to London.'
'Neither do I,' cried Jacintha.
'Oh, I shall do something right enough,' I answered with all the confidence I could assume.
'I tell you what I believe,' said Dick. 'I believe Captain Knowlton is not dead after all. You see if I am not right. You don't know really that he was drowned.'
'If he were not,' I answered, 'he would have sent a telegram, because he would know the Seagull had been reported lost.'
'Still, you cannot tell,' Dick insisted, 'and if I were you, as soon as I got to London, I should go to his rooms in the Albany.'
But this was a point I had already considered.
'You see,' I said, 'very likely Mr. Turton has been there and told them to keep me——'
'I did not think of that,' Dick admitted. 'Still, I don't see what you will do in London. And, of course, I live there, though I'm going to a crammer's at Richmond next term.'