"
"He did," said Thomas Carr, quietly. "What curious tale does your friend
tell?"
"Well, sir, he says--or rather said, for I've not seen him since my first
visit there--that George Gordon did not sail in the _Morning Star_. He
was killed in a drunken brawl the night before he ought to have sailed:
this man was present and saw him buried."
"But there's pretty good proof that Gordon did sail. He was the
ringleader of the mutiny."
"Well, yes. I don't know how it could have been. The man was positive.
I never knew Gordon; so that the affair did not interest me much."
"You are doing well over there?"
"Very well. I might retire now, if I chose to live in a small way, but I
mean to take a few more years of it, and go on to riches. Ah! and it was
just the turn of a pin whether I went over there that second time, or
whether I stopped in London to serve writs and starve."
"Val was right," thought the barrister.
On the following Saturday Mr. Carr took a return-ticket, and went down
to Hartledon: as he had done once or twice before in the old days. The
Hartledons had not come to town this season; did not intend to come: Anne
was too happy in the birth of her baby-boy to care for London; and Val
liked Hartledon better than any other place now.
In one single respect the past year had failed to bring Anne
happiness--there was not entire confidence between herself and her
husband.
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