I READ MY OWN OBITUARY It was my turn to stare again--and stare I did, from one to the other in silence, and being far too much amazed to find ready speech.

And before I could get my tongue once more, my mother, who was always remarkably sharp of eye, got her word in.
"What're you doing in that new suit of clothes ?" she demanded.

"And where's your own good clothes that you went away in yesterday noon?
I misdoubt this stewardship's leading you into some strange ways!" "My own good clothes, mother, are somewhere in the North Sea," retorted I."Top or bottom, sunk or afloat, it's there you'll find them, if you're more anxious about them than me! Do you tell me that Carstairs has never been home ?" I went on, turning to Mr.Lindsey, "Then I don't know where he is, nor his yacht either.

All I know is that he left me to drown last night, a good twenty miles from land, and that it's only by a special mercy of Providence that I'm here.

Wherever he is, yon man's a murderer--I've settled that, Mr.Lindsey!" The women began to tremble and to exclaim at this news, and to ask one question after another, and Mr.Lindsey shook his head impatiently.
"We can't stand talking our affairs in the station all night," said he.
"Let's get to an hotel, my lad--we're all wanting our suppers.