the title is yours. In the meantime, when you introduce me to your friends here, we'll just pretend I've taken them out already."
Allan Harrowby got up and laid his hand affectionately on his brother's shoulder.
"You're a brick, old boy," he said. "You always were. I'm glad you're to be here for the wedding. How did you happen to come?"
"That's right—you don't know, do you? I came in response to a telegram from Lloyds, of New York."
"From—er—Lloyds?" asked Allan blankly.
"Yes, Allan. That yacht you came down here on didn't belong to Martin Wall. It belonged to me. He made away with it from North River because he happened to need it. Wall's a crook, my boy."
"The Lileth your ship! My word!"
"It is. I called it the Lady Evelyn, Allan. Lloyds found out that it had been stolen and sent me a wire. So here I am."
"Lloyds found out through me," Minot explained to the dazed Allan.
