of his fate as Openshaw did before him.”


“And who is this Captain Calhoun?”


“The leader of the gang. I shall have the others, but he first.”


“How did you trace it, then?”


He took a large sheet of paper from his pocket, all covered with dates and

names.


“I have spent the whole day,” said he, “over Lloyd’s

registers and files of the old papers, following the future career of every

vessel which touched at Pondicherry in January and February in ’83. There

were thirty-six ships of fair tonnage which were reported there during those

months. Of these, one, the Lone Star, instantly attracted my attention,

since, although it was reported as having cleared from London, the name is that

which is given to one of the states of the Union.”


“Texas, I think.”


“I was not and am not sure which; but I knew that the ship must have an

American origin.”


“What then?”


“I searched the Dundee records, and when I found that the barque Lone

Star was there in January, ’85, my suspicion became a certainty. I

then inquired as to the vessels which lay at present in the port of

London.”


“Yes?”


“The Lone Star had arrived here last week. I went down to the

Albert Dock and found that she had been taken down the river by the early tide

this morning, homeward bound to Savannah. I wired to Gravesend and learned that

she had passed some time ago, and as the wind is easterly I have no doubt that

she is now past the Goodwins and not very far from the Isle of Wight.”


“What will you do, then?”


“Oh, I have my hand upon him. He and the two mates, are as I learn, the

only native-born Americans in the ship. The others are Finns and Germans. I

know, also, that they were all three away from the ship last night. I had it

from the stevedore who has been loading their cargo. By the time that their

sailing-ship reaches Savannah the mail-boat will have carried this letter, and