The Luminaries

barque
Godspeed,
of which I was until very recently the operating master, upon the treacherous Hokitika Bar. The shipowner, Mr. Crosbie F. Wells, is recently deceased, and I am settling matters as his proxy. I understand that in purchasing
Godspeed
Mr. Crosbie F. Wells inherited all extant policies from former owner A. Lauderback, member of the Garrity Group, and therefore, that
Godspeed
is protected and indemnified by said authority. I seek now to draw down all funds designated by Mr. Lauderback for this purpose in order to facilitate the removal of the wreck. I enclose the full record of all expenses, deeds of sale, receipts, quotes, inventories, &c., and remain,
    Yours,
    Francis W. R. Carver
    Gascoigne frowned. What did Carver mean by this? Crosbie Wells had certainly not purchased
Godspeed
; Carver had purchased the craft himself, using the alias Wells. Gascoigne shuffled through the remaining pages, which had evidently been forwarded by Carver to Mr. Garrity as evidence of the validity of his claim. He passed over the harbourmaster’s assessment of the wreck, a balance sheet of all the debts incurred, and sundry receipts and testimonials , until he found, at the bottom of the pile, a copy—presumably Carver’s personal copy—of
Godspeed
’s bill of sale. Gascoigne tookup this last item and looked at the signature closely. It had been signed by a Francis Wells! What was Carver playing at? Looking at the signature a moment longer, however, Gascoigne perceived that the large loop on the side of the F could easily have been a C … why, yes! There was even a dot of ink, fortuitously placed, between the C and the F. The longer Gascoigne looked at it, the more the ambiguity became clear to him: Carver must have signed the false name with this future purpose in mind. Gascoigne shook his head, and then, after a moment, laughed aloud.
    ‘What’s tickled you?’ said Burke, looking up.
    ‘Oh,’ said Gascoigne, ‘nothing of consequence.’
    ‘You just laughed,’ said Burke. ‘What’s the joke?’
    ‘There is no joke,’ said Gascoigne. ‘I was expressing my appreciation , that’s all.’
    ‘Appreciation? What for?’
    ‘A job well done,’ said Gascoigne. He returned the letters to the envelope and stood, intending to take John Hincher Garrity’s letter of authorisation to the bank at once—but just as he did so the foyer door opened, and Alistair Lauderback walked in, shadowed at his heels by Jock and Augustus Smith.
    ‘Ah,’ said Lauderback, perceiving the letter in Gascoigne’s hand. ‘I’m just in time, then. Yes: I had a message from Garrity myself this morning. There’s been a mix-up, and I’m here to set it straight.’
    ‘Mr. Lauderback, I presume,’ said Gascoigne dryly.
    ‘I want a private interview with the Magistrate,’ Lauderback said. ‘It’s urgent.’
    ‘The Magistrate is taking his luncheon at present.’
    ‘Where does he take it?’
    ‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ said Gascoigne. ‘The afternoon sessions begin at two o’clock; you are welcome to wait until then. Excuse me, gentlemen.’
    ‘Hold up,’ said Lauderback, as Gascoigne bowed, and made to exit. ‘Where do you think you’re going with that letter?’
    ‘To the bank,’ said Gascoigne—who could not bear officious rudeness of the kind that Lauderback had just displayed. ‘I havebeen deputised by Mr. Garrity to facilitate a transaction on his behalf. I beg you to excuse me.’
    Again he made to leave.
    ‘Hold up a moment,’ said Lauderback. ‘Just hold up a moment! It’s on account of this very business that I want an audience here; you’re not to go off to the bank, before I’ve said my piece!’
    Gascoigne stared at him coolly. Lauderback seemed to realise that he had begun on the wrong foot, and said, ‘Hear me out, would you? What’s your name?’
    ‘Gascoigne.’
    ‘Gascoigne, is it? Yes, I had you for a Frenchman.’
    Lauderback held out his hand, and Gascoigne shook it.
    ‘I’ll speak to you, then,’ Lauderback said. ‘If I can’t get the Magistrate.’
    ‘I imagine you would prefer to do so in private,’ said Gascoigne, still without warmth.
    ‘Yes, good.’ Lauderback turned to his aides. ‘You wait here,’ he said. ‘I’ll be ten minutes.’
    Gascoigne led him into the Magistrate’s office, and closed the door behind him. They sat down on the Windsor chairs that faced the Magistrate’s desk.
    ‘All right, Mr. Gascoigne,’ said Lauderback at once, sitting forward ,