the end, by great good fortune, an amicable settlement was arrived at, which gave satisfaction to all parties concerned.
As might have been expected, the value set on the property by Mr. Batters proved to be an exaggeration. It was worth nothing like a million. Still, it fetched a considerable amount when realised, and after the owners and crew of The Flying Scud had been appeased—excepting Mr. Luke, who was markedly dissatisfied because he only received an ordinary seaman’s share—an appreciable sum remained as surplus. To this was added the cash which had been bequeathed to Miss Blyth by the will whose validity was, at best, extremely doubtful; the whole being divided, in equal portions, between the niece and the daughter. As Miss Batters immediately afterwards became Mrs. Max Lander, the commander of The Flying Scud had no cause to be discontented with this arrangement.
No. 84, Camford Street is still without an owner. It appears, from the story told by the girl, Susan, that on reaching England, her father hurried her from place to place, seldom stopping for more than two or three days under one roof. They seem to have made their most lengthy stay in a barge in one of the lower reaches of the river. No doubt the notion of concealment was present to his mind from the first. Though how he lighted on the house in Camford Street is still a mystery. Nor has anything transpired to show by whose orders it was fortified in such ingenious and elaborate fashion; nor by whom the work was executed. Nothing has been found which goes to show that he had any right to call the house his property. Its actual ownership still goes begging.
The document purporting to be a will was possibly drawn up by his own hand. The letter signed “Arthur Lennard, Missionary,” pretending to announce his death on that far-off Australasian island, was
