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Both the yacht and he vanished utterly.

We believed, my mother and I, that he and it, with the securities that he had taken with him, were at the bottom of the sea.

We had a faithful friend, however, who is a business man, and it was he who discovered some time ago that some of the securities which my father had with him have reappeared on the London market.

You can imagine our amazement.

I spent months in trying to trace them, and at last, after many doublings and difficulties, I discovered that the original seller had been Captain Peter Carey, the owner of this hut.

"Naturally, I made some inquiries about the man.

I found that he had been in command of a whaler which was due to return from the Arctic seas at the very time when my father was crossing to Norway.

The autumn of that year was a stormy one, and there was a long succession of southerly gales.

My father's yacht may well have been blown to the north, and there met by Captain Peter Carey's ship.

If that were so, what had become of my father? In any case, if I could prove from Peter Carey's evidence how these securities came on the market it would be a proof that my father had not sold them, and that he had no view to personal profit when he took them.

"I came down to Sussex with the intention of seeing the captain, but it was at this moment that his terrible death occurred.

I read at the inquest a description of his cabin, in which it stated that the old log-books of his vessel were preserved in it.

It struck me that if I could see what occurred in the month of August, 1883, on board the SEA UNICORN, I might settle the mystery of my father's fate.

I tried last night to get at these log-books, but was unable to open the door.

To-night I tried again, and succeeded; but I find that the pages which deal with that month have been torn from the book.

It was at that moment I found myself a prisoner in your hands."

"Is that all?" asked Hopkins.

"Yes, that is all." His eyes shifted as he said it.

"You have nothing else to tell us?"

He hesitated.

"No; there is nothing."

"You have not been here before last night?"

"No."

"Then how do you account for THAT?" cried Hopkins, as he held up the damning note-book, with the initials of our prisoner on the first leaf and the blood-stain on the cover.

The wretched man collapsed. He sank his face in his hands and trembled all over.

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