When the following morning broke, the sky was dull and heavy and the atmosphere close and oppressive. This did not seem to trouble the girls, who packed up their swags, saddled their horses, and were away on the road before the others were astir.
The boys were the next to move, and their surprise was great when they found their new chum neighbours had disappeared.
"They're early risers, and no mistake," remarked Reg, rubbing his eyes.
"Yes. I wonder which way they've gone. However, that's easily settled," and he looked for hoof-marks, which he found, setting in the direction of Chinchilla. But neither attached any importance to the matter.
"We'd better make for the buggy," said Hal.And they shouldered their swags and made for the river once more.
Wyck, camped in Abrahams' van, found it difficult to sleep on account of the owner's loud snoring. At day-break he lay looking out on the camp through a crack in the cover. He saw the girls rise and depart, and the boys follow them. Thinking it about time for them to be moving, he woke Abrahams and went off to Joe's tent.
"Now then, Joe," he called out at that worthy's tent. "Get up, and let's get off to Dalby. I've had enough of the bush."
"Hullo! where's the other coves?" asked Joe, in surprise, gazing round the camp.
"Gone long ago."
"Which way did they go?"
"Along the river, I expect."
"Now then, boys, harness up. We must make Dalby to-night," said Abrahams, appearing on the scene.
"Do you know what time the train goes?" asked Wyck.
"There's one early in the morning, I think," said Abrahams.
"I must catch that."
"I am just as anxious to get back as you are. I don't like the look of the weather, and I should not be surprised if we had a big rain."
"You're right there, boss," chimed in Joe. "I've been thinking the same."
After a hasty breakfast, they made a start and reached Dalby about seven o'clock the same evening. On enquiry, Wyck found a train left at eight and, making Abrahams a present of his turn-out, he left by that train, feeling sure he had attracted no notice whatever. Before leaving, he told Joe to wire him any news to "Grosvenor, Sydney," or "Gaiety, Melbourne," under a false name; and Joe, who had lined his pocket considerably during his acquaintanceship with his chum, promised to keep a sharp look-out.
When the girls left the camp, they followed the tracks of the hawker's waggon, and after a couple of hours' ride pulled up at a water-hole for breakfast. The road was very rough, and they did not reach the station until late. The manager gave them a cordial welcome, considering they were strangers, but could afford no information about anyone resembling Wyck. As they naturally did not care to accept thehospitality offered them, that of the single men's hut, they turned their horses and rode some way back, till they found a good camping-place for the night. The next day looked even more threatening than the day before, and large drops of rain fell before they started.
"I think we are in for a drenching, May," said Hil, looking anxiously round.
"So do I. Let's clear to Dalby as fast as we can."
As they proceeded on their journey the rain fell steadily, and when they reached Dalby, at a late hour, they were wet to the skin. They saw to their horses, dried their clothes, and made themselves comfortable for the night at the hotel.
"If this keeps on much longer we shall have a flood," said the landlord to them.
Dalby presented a picturesque appearance the next morning, for the Condamine was overflowing its banks and all the low-lying country was flooded. As a wash-away seemed imminent, the railway people suspended all traffic. Twelve inches was measured in twenty-four hours, and by the evening of the second day the country for miles round was a sheet of water. Manyhouses in Dalby were flooded, and several had been washed away.
The girls were now locked up, for boats were plying in the streets. The delay made them very wild, but nothing could be done but wait. They were lucky, however, in comparison with the fate that befel the boys.
When the boys arrived at their camp, they found their man still asleep, and waking him up they had a hasty breakfast and started on their journey for Chinchilla. Dobbs, the tramp, said he knew a better road than the one they were on, and they let him have his way. But Dobbs was one of those gentlemen fond of experimenting at others' expense, as the boys found out to their cost, for after hopelessly wandering Dobbs acknowledged he was out of his reckoning. Fortune favoured them, however, for they met a stockrider of the Nankin Run.
"Chinchilla? Why you are out of it altogether," said he, in answer to enquiries. "You are a long way from Dalby, too, and if you take my advice you'll follow me, for it looks like rain. When it rains here, it does so with a vengeance. We've had none for twelve months, and it looks like a flood."
The invitation was offered in a rough, genial way, and the boys were only too glad to accept it. After an hour's drive they came to the station. The boys had been puzzling themselves as to what position the man held there, for he looked more like a shepherd than anything else, in his greasy pants and shirt and dirty, old, cabbage-tree hat, but on their arrival they found he was no less a person than the Honourable Mr. Tomkins, owner, not only of that station, but many more.
"Now then, boys, make yourselves quite at home. We don't live in style here, for I don't like it. I get enough of that in the cities, for, take my word for it, no tea tastes so well as that brewed in a billy," said he.
The next day the rain set in and, by Tomkins' advice, they did not start, for all the creeks they would have had to cross were now swollen, and on the following day they themselves were living on an island.
"You see, I took the precaution to build my place on high ground. But we shall be kept busy with visitors now," Tomkins said, as a huge snake crossed the floor.
Insects in great numbers and reptiles of themost venomous kind began to make for the house as the waters rose, and all hands turned out to build a wooden barrier round it, which was saturated with kerosene and set on fire. This proved an effective barrier, but, nevertheless, they were kept pretty busy, and their sleep was not of the most comfortable kind. After six days of this kind of life, they were able to start on their return journey, and once more arrived at Dalby.
There had been numerous cases of drowning during the flood, and the first one to come to their ears was that of a young fellow whose body was found at Campbell Creek crossing, and who had been identified by Joe Brown as a young man who had accompanied him from Toowoomba, named Wyckliffe.
Going to the Police Station to make enquiries, they found the facts as stated. In addition to Joe Brown's identification, they had found a "W" tattooed on his arm. The body had also, they said, been identified by two young fellows who had left for Brisbane a day or two before.
"Then we are to be cheated after all," said Reg, savagely.
"Won't you forgive the fellow now?" asked Hal.
"I can't, old fellow. I can't. I feel some satisfaction in having his stick, though. However, Hal, we've done our duty, and he has met his fate. God knows, he deserved it."
They squared up their accounts, and took train direct to Sydney, with the intention of hunting up the Goodchilds.
When the police reported that the body had been identified by Joe Brown and two other men they stated the literal fact. A stock-driver crossing the creek had seen the body floating there with the face battered beyond recognition. He had pulled it out of the water, and rode into town to report to the police, who brought it in. Joe Brown was one of the first to hear of the discovery, and a brilliant idea struck him that he might make a good thing out of Wyck by reporting the body to be his. As soon as the girls heard it they reluctantly went, too. There was a decided resemblance in the build of the dead man to Wyck, but the features were too bruised for them to be certain. However, Joe swore positively to the tattoo on the arm, and that settled the matter, and the corpse wasburied as that of Villiers Wyckliffe, a young Englishman out to gain colonial experience.
The same evening the girls left for Brisbane, but not alone, for Hil was taking the colt with her. Tom, the old groom at the hotel stables, had taken a violent fancy to both horse and owner, that she decided to take him with her to Sydney. At Brisbane they had to explain to him that his master was a mistress, and they sailed without delay for Sydney, none the worse for their experience, but feeling rather subdued at the tragic disaster which had robbed them of the spoil after which they had started.
When Wyck arrived at Toowoomba the first person he looked out for was Bill Adams, whom he found in the yard of the "Royal."
"Hullo, boss, back again! I've got all your togs stowed away," said he, as he led him to his room.
"I had a small black stick," said Wyck to him, after he had inspected the contents of his portmanteau.
"That's all you had, governor," said Bill, with emphasis. And Wyck, seeing it was useless to argue with him, had to accept the inevitable.
"All my luck will desert me now," he said tohimself, when he was safely in a train bound for Sydney. "I've lost my fetish."
At Tenterfield he bought a paper, and saw to his delight that heavy rain had set in in the Western district, and that all the country was flooded.
"I hope those two bloodhounds may be drowned too," he said, as he lay down to sleep.
Nearing Sydney, the next morning, he heard the newsboy crying out "Herald. Dreadful floods!" and jumping up, he bought a copy. Opening it, he received a shock, for his eyes caught the broad head-lines:
HEAVY FLOODS IN QUEENSLAND.27 LIVES LOST.THOUSANDS OF STOCK DROWNED.TERRIBLE SCENES.DALBY COMPLETELY FLOODED.RAILWAY LINE WASHED AWAY.
He eagerly read the detailed account of the flood from the beginning.
"Hallo, what's this?" he cried, jumping up. "By Jove! I'm drowned! I'm dead," and he read the paragraph again.
"This afternoon a man rode in and reported that the body of a young man was in the creek at Campbell Camp Crossing. Thepolice were informed, and they brought the corpse into the town, which was in a terribly battered condition. It was immediately identified by a shearer, named Brown, as the body of a young English gentleman, named Villiers Wyckliffe, who was touring the back blocks and was bound for Chinchilla station. The body was buried this morning."
"This afternoon a man rode in and reported that the body of a young man was in the creek at Campbell Camp Crossing. Thepolice were informed, and they brought the corpse into the town, which was in a terribly battered condition. It was immediately identified by a shearer, named Brown, as the body of a young English gentleman, named Villiers Wyckliffe, who was touring the back blocks and was bound for Chinchilla station. The body was buried this morning."
"Joe Brown, you are a brick. I'll drink your health," said Wyck, producing the flask. Then he sat down and read the paragraph again, scarcely believing his eyes. Fortunately he was alone in the compartment; otherwise, fellow-passengers might have thought him mad. He paced the car, whistled, and sang, and called out over and over again:
"By Jove, I'm dead! Hurrah! Hurrah!" Then he sat down again and thought it all out. At last he rose and unscrewing the cap of his flask, cried:
"Fred Philamore, I drink your health. Villiers Wyckliffe is dead, and Fred Philamore, a young English gentleman, out for colonial experience, arrives in Sydney. What a good job I shaved. No one will recognize me now; at least they won't when I've done. I always had a fancy for red hair, and mine will dye beautifully. I'll make the acquaintance of Mr. Morris and his amiable friend, Winter, and if I don't have some fun, it's a caution. I'llmake it warm for you, Reg Morris, before I'm done. I'll teach dirty colonials to hunt an English gentleman. Fortunately I know friends of the different Governors. Fred Philamore will have no difficulty in getting into Society: an Englishman is a welcome change to the colonials—at least they always say so. Hurrah, Wyck! Good old Wyck, you're dead, and good old Fred Philamore stands in your shoes."
With a lighter heart than he had known for many a day, Wyck stepped out of the train at Sydney.
"Why wasn't I born a boy, Hil? I never felt so comfortable before in my life as when I wore trousers, and now we have to return to these abominable petticoats."
"You don't regret your sex half so much as I do, for I have been regretting it ever since I was a child," answered Hil, giving her skirts a vicious twitch.
"Shall we go to Teasdale's this afternoon?"
"No, don't. I hate garden-parties."
"It's to be a very fashionable affair, and the Government House party will be there."
"That settles the matter then. We stay away," said Hil, decisively.
When the girls returned to Sydney they found Goody still at the "Grosvenor," seemingly quite happy. At first he had been feeble and despondent, but he knew a large number of people, whose visits kept him from brooding and, on his daughter's return, she found him quite a Society man in his old-fashioned way. Hil asked him to come out to Blue Gums, but he preferred the hotel, so both she and May left him there, perfectly content. Hil found an accumulation of letters and invitations waiting her arrival. Callers were numerous, who made curious enquiries about their long absence, but their curiosity was unsatisfied, and it was generally assumed that Hil had been on a visit to one of her stations.
"Two gentlemen are below, and wish to see you, miss," said the maid, entering the room when the girls were engaged in bemoaning their lot.
"Did they give their names?"
"No. I asked, but they said it did not matter."
"Shew them up." Then, turning to May, she said, "I don't mind betting they're the boys."
"Good-morning, Miss Goodchild," said both Hal and Reg, advancing to May.
"Good-morning, gentlemen. This is my cousin."
"Delighted to meet you," said Hil, shaking hands cordially.
"We called at the 'Grosvenor' this morning, and Mr. Goodchild told us we should find you here, so we took the liberty of coming over," said Hal.
"No liberty, I assure you. A pleasure."
"On both sides, I hope," said Reg.
"We have only recently returned from Brisbane, and Mr. Goodchild told us you, too, had been out of town."
"Yes, we went for a trip. I hope you weren't inconvenienced by the floods."
"We were; very much. The mere mention of them makes me look round, expecting to see a tribe of ants, or two or three snakes on the floor."
"Do tell us about your adventures," said May.
"When we left Brisbane we went on to Toowoomba and got on Wyck's tracks and chased him out West as far as Dalby. From there we set off in a buggy for Chinchilla, and we caught up his buggy, but found it had broken down, and that there was no trace of Wyck. We suppose he lost his way and was drowned in the creek, where his body was found."
"How did you manage in the bush? Did you have to camp out?" asked Hil, with an appearance of great interest, and gently touching May's foot.
"Oh, of course, and it was great fun," and they both laughed.
"Do tell us about it. I am so fond of hearing tales of the bush," said May.
"Well, when we reached the creek, we found an old fellow, named Brown, in charge of the buggy, and from him we learnt that his boss, as he called Wyck, had gone on to Chinchilla on foot, so we started after him, but, losing our way, had to return to the creek. Now, it struck us that Wyck might possibly return to his buggy during the night, so we camped about half-a-mile away, and, leaving a man in charge of our trap, we dressed up as swagmen and joined the party at the crossing, which had now been increased by the arrival of two new chums and a hawker's van."
"Tell them about the ants, Hal," said Reg.
"Oh, yes. Joe and the hawker had a dispute as to who should have a seat on the log used for the fire, but Joe had possession and determined to stick to it, which he did until a swarm ofgreen-heads climbed up his back, and then he jumped up with a yell and flung off his clothes. Joe frightened the new chums, for they cleared off to their tent."
"What kind of fellows were these new chums?" asked Hil.
"Oh, nothing out of the common. Very ladylike in appearance and namby-pamby looking. I felt really sorry for them, but they ought never to have left their ma's apron-strings."
"Yes, I fancy this flood will send them back," said Reg, laughing.
"How very interesting: but you have been spreading the story about well," remarked Hil.
"Why, what do you mean? I have never spoken to a soul about it. Have you, Reg?"
"Well, I heard the same tale, yesterday, about old Brown and the ants," said Hil.
"You did?"
"Yes, and I fancy I can recognise you two in the story I heard, since you say you came as tramps."
"I don't understand," said Hal, looking at her in astonishment.
"I'll tell it you as it was told to me, then. Itappears Joe Brown recognised in the two tramps the two men who had driven by in a buggy and he passed it round the camp, and while you two were acting as tramps everyone was laughing at you."
"Miss Mannahill, where did you hear that?" called out Hal, thunderstruck.
"That's not all," continued Hil, imperturbably. "We heard about you in Brisbane, and how you were good enough to discuss May and myself in a public saloon."
Hal looked at Reg in astonishment, and unable to say a word.
"Can you deny saying that, from all accounts, that cousin of May Goodchild's was a bit of a star?" asked Hil.
"And that I was a jolly girl?" struck in May, both of them now laughing heartily at the nonplussed appearance of the two men.
"Excuse me, I—" said Hal, with an uncanny feeling that there was witchcraft somewhere.
"No, we won't. We want an apology."
"For what?" said Reg, seriously.
"For speaking ill of absent friends."
"Did we speak ill?"
"Yes, of those two new chums, who were—"
"Not yourselves."
"Certainly," said Hil, smiling. "And I am glad we seemed ladylike and I hope you'll do us the justice to say we have got back to our ma's—or the equivalent."
"You two ladies were the new chums!" said Reg, not quite sure if he heard aright.
"Yes. How did we look?"
"Splendid."
"Oh, you traitors, but we'll forgive you," said Hil, ringing for refreshments.
The girls then told their adventures and were equally amused to find they had all been at cross-purposes the whole time. It took the boys some considerable time to get over their astonishment.
"We went for a man, and returned with a horse," said Hil.
"And we went for a man, and returned with a stick," added Hal.
"Which stick? Not the famous one with all the notches cut on it?" asked May.
"The very same. There are several fresh notches added, and one of them may refer to you."
"Oh, let us see it. Where is it?" said Hil, excitedly.
"I have it safe under lock and key," answered Reg.
"You can scratch out my notch," said May, "for though I had a narrow squeak, my heart is not quite broken, thanks to you two."
"For one thing, I am glad it occurred," answered Hal. "It has given us the pleasure of making your acquaintance."
"New chums, eh?"
"Now, that's not fair. But did that old fellow really recognise us?"
"No, I don't know that he did. Certainly we did not. I only said so because you were rather hard on us," answered Hil.
"What are you gentlemen going to do now?" asked May.
"We are going to have a holiday. I have done my duty, and my dear old friend here has sacrificed all his time for me. We propose staying in Sydney for a short while, and then taking another trip to Tasmania, as the people there were so nice," answered Reg.
"All Tasmanians are nice," put in May.
"Don't fish, May," said Hil, chaffingly.
"Present company always excepted," said May, unwarily.
"Oh, that's worse than ever," retorted Hil, and all joined in the laughter which followed.
"Now, if you gentlemen are doing nothing to-day, we shall be very glad of your company on our drive," said Hil.
"We shall be delighted," said both together.
"Then that's settled. Now let us go to lunch. Quite impromptu, you know, billy and pannikins," she added, with a light laugh, as she led the way.
And a happy quartette they made, these four young people, sensible to the full of the enjoyments of life. Joke and anecdote were interchanged with good-humouredcamaraderieand, if Mrs. Grundy was not present, she ought to have been, only in the capacity of spectator, that she might but learn how possible it is for youth of both sexes to meet together in wholesome social enjoyment without the watchful eye of a chaperon. After luncheon, the boys were invited to light their cigars, the girls apologising for not joining in, because they had given up male vices with male habiliments.
"You must come and see Wyck," said Hilda, taking them to the stables. "And here is old Tom. I don't know if you remember him atDalby. I brought him to look after Wyck, because they seem to understand each other so well."
"How's Wyck getting on, Tom?" she asked, as the old fellow came forward and saluted.
"Oh, he's doing well, miss. I've had him entered for the Sydney Cup, and I doubt there won't be many to beat him," said Tom, proudly, as he led the way to a loose box in which his favourite was kept.
"Well, Wyck, old boy," said Hil, and the horse, hearing her voice, turned round and put his head over the rail, and sniffed at her as if in search of something.
"Here you are," she said, giving him a piece of sugar, and rubbing his nose.
"We heard about your doings at Dalby; how you took the auctioneer and the farmer down," said Reg, "but we little guessed who the new chums were."
After wandering round the extensive stables, Hil called one of the grooms, and told him to put Fan and Tan in the dog-cart.
"They are a bit skittish, miss," said he, being a new hand.
"All the better," answered she. "Go and put them in."
A handsome dog-cart was wheeled out, and two beautiful dappled grey cobs harnessed to it, who by their prancing and restless antics looked like mischief. The wheeler was the more quiet of the two, but the leader seemed to prefer a more picturesque attitude than that of standing quietly on four legs, and elevating himself on his hind-legs remained pawing the air like an heraldic beast. Twice did the groom pull her into line with the wheeler, but she preferred dancing round and gazing at the driver.
"I think she has had a fair look at us now," said Hil, quietly taking up the whip. "Straighten them again, please."
The opening of the gate was not a wide one, and the boys confessed they felt a trifle nervous in their seats. But they did not know their driver. With a sharp, "Now then, let go," she gave the leader a couple of smart smacks with the lash, and he dashed forward and they passed through the gate at a hand-gallop, and were soon flying along the beautiful roads round Sydney.
The boys thoroughly enjoyed themselves. What more could heart desire than to be driven behind a pair of handsome horses, beside a pair of handsome girls!
"Will you ladies come to the theatre to-night?" asked Reg. "There is a new star just arrived from London."
"What do you say, May?"
"Delighted."
"Yes, we'll go with pleasure," said Hil, and arriving at the "Metropole," where the boys had taken up their residence, the cart was pulled up, and they alighted.
"Shall we call for you?" asked Reg.
"No, we'll call for you at 7.30. Good-bye."
Standing on the pavement, the boys gazed first after the cart disappearing round the corner, and then at each other. But words failed them, so they turned on their heel towards the hotel.
"By-the-bye, we had better call on old Goody. He might like to go," said Reg, and Hal being of the same opinion, they turned back tothe"Grosvenor."
They found Mr. Goodchild in conversation with a young man, whom he introduced to them as Mr. Philamore.
"We are going to the theatre to-night, Mr. Goodchild, and we came to see if you would join us."
"Well, Philamore and I had agreed—"
"Oh, both of you join us, won't you?"
Philamore having expressed himself as quite agreeable to the arrangement, it was settled they should all go to the theatre.
Punctually to time, the girls arrived at the "Metropole," and, picking up the boys, they drove on to the "Grosvenor" for Goody and his friend. It was a tight squeeze to find seating room for all, but the Criterion Theatre was not far away, and Hil laughingly insisted on taking all of them. Thus, for the third time, the five chief characters of this veracious history were in each other's company, though on this occasion four were known to each other, and the fifth a stranger, but knowing well himself in whose company he was. They were comfortably settled in their box as the curtain rose, and all eyes were turned to the stage in eager anticipation of the appearance of the actress who had been so much talked about. When she did appear, two of the party gave a start; Reg in wonder where he had seen the face before, andWyck in astonishment, for the familiar face and voice recalled old memories.
"I have seen that face somewhere before," said Reg to Hil, "but I can't think where. The programme styles her 'Mrs. Montague,' but that does not give me a clue."
"You may have seen her in London," she suggested.
"Wasn't her name Marjorie Williamson?" whispered Mr. Philamore, as he laid aside the opera-glasses through which he had been gazing intensely.
"That's she; the very same. By Jove, I am glad," added Reg, excitedly.
"Hush," said Hal, for Reg had raised his voice, and unpleasant glances were cast in the direction of their box.
During the first act, Reg remained so engrossed in his thoughts that he left the play unheeded. He was only roused from his reverie by the vociferous applause that brought the actress twice before the curtain. Her success was now assured, much to his delight.
The boys, accompanied by Goody and Philamore, left for the saloon during the interval and the girls found themselves alone.
"What do you think of him?" asked Hil.
"I can't say. I don't like red hair," answered May.
"He can't help that. I thought him rather pleasant."
"How strange that Reg should recognise this lady."
"And Mr. Philamore knows her too. He said her name was Marjorie Williamson."
"Marjorie Williamson! Why, that is the girl he told me about. She was one of Wyck's victims," said May, in surprise.
"They're coming back," said Hil, as the gentlemen entered the box.
"Too bad of us to go and leave you," observed Philamore, with a smile.
"Oh, we don't mind."
"Did you know Miss Williamson in London?" asked Hil of him.
"Slightly. As much as one knows the leading stars," he replied.
"Was she a star there?"
"Yes, she was rather successful, but I believe she got into some trouble and had to retire, contrary to the general rule, for it usually adds to their celebrity."
"What trouble?" asked May, curiously.
"That's more than I can tell. You see we never notice these things in England, they are every-day occurrences. I don't think I should have recognised her but for her voice," answered Philamore, indifferently.
"Where did you meet your friend, Mr. Goodchild?" asked Reg, when they stood outside the box.
"At the hotel. He only arrived from England a few days ago. He seems a very pleasant young fellow and is well connected at home, knows the Governor, and moves in good society."
"I don't care about him," said Hal. "I have taken an unreasonable dislike to him. I have a certain repellent feeling when he speaks to me."
"It's strange he should know Marjorie Williamson, too," said Reg.
"Oh, I suppose everybody about town, who sees an actress on the stage, thinks himself entitled to claim acquaintance with her."
"Yes, I suppose so. I must call on her. I wonder where she is staying."
"No idea, but we can soon find out," andwalking to one of the attendants, came back and said: "Petty's Hotel."
"Why that's close to the "Grosvenor." We will call to-morrow. I shall be awfully glad to see her again."
"And she'll be glad to see you, old chap, I should think."
At the close of the performance, the boys saw the girls to their carriage and, promising to call on the following day, bade Goody and his friend good-night, and walked to their hotel.
The boys strolled along in silence, and each guessed that the same thing occupied their thoughts. At last, Hal said:
"Look here, Reg, ever since I had that dream in which I saw Wyck and Dick laughing over our failure, I cannot forgive myself for not stopping at Toowoomba, and seeing Bill Adams, and making sure that Wyck is dead, for we have only old Brown's word for it, and he is the kind of fellow that would do anything for money. How do we know his death was not a put-up job?"
"Quite right, Hal, I think we ought to settle that point at once. If Wyck is dead, his clothes will still be at Toowoomba; if he is alive, hewill have called for his stick, and we must find him."
"The express leaves at eight to-morrow morning. You can make an excuse for me to the girls, but let's keep the business to ourselves until it is settled," said Hal.
"You'll wire if you hear anything?"
"Of course. I don't think I shall, but at any rate we'll settle the question, and have done with it."
The next morning Hal left for Toowoomba, and at mid-day Reg called at Petty's Hotel, and sent in his card to Mrs. Montague. He was at once shown in and met with a hearty reception.
"Mr. Morris," said she, "you see I have fulfilled my promise."
"Yes, and I don't know of anything which has delighted me more. I was there last night, and never enjoyed a play more."
"I saw you. You were in a box with two ladies and two gentlemen."
"Yes, they were my friends."
Here a gentleman entered the room, and to Reg's surprise Marjorie ran to him and said:
"Arthur, this is Mr. Morris."
"Morris!" said he. "What! the real Morris? My dear sir, I am delighted to see you."
"That's my husband," said she, in answer to his look of enquiry, then added in a sad voice, "poor old Jones died a month before my leaving, he sent a short message to you,—it was: 'Tell Mr. Morris that he made me happy.' Poor old chap!"
"I am heartily glad to see that Mrs. Montague took my advice. It would have been a thousand pities had she buried her talent because of a scoundrel."
"Have you came across him yet, Mr. Morris?"
"No, not yet," said Reg, slowly, "for months I have been on his tracks, and the other day he was reported to be drowned, but I can hardly believe it, so my friend has gone off to find out the truth."
"Who was that red-haired gentleman in your box?"
"His name is Philamore, he knows you."
"Philamore? I don't remember the name, but there was something in his face which seemed familiar."
"Fancy, my dear, only fancy," said Mr. Montague. "But you, Mr. Morris, you will join us at lunch. I want to drink your health, for it is to you I owe my meeting with my wife."
Reg was persuaded to stay, but he did so reluctantly, as he had half promised to lunch at Blue Gums.
"Will you let me introduce my lady friends to you?" he asked.
"I should be most happy to meet any friends of yours," she answered, smiling.
"You'll find them true Australian girls, and I venture to say you will be good friends."
"Well, I shall be at home all this afternoon."
"If I can, then, I'll bring them to you," said Reg, taking his leave, and setting out at once for Blue Gums. His arrival alone caused some enquiries.
"Where's Mr. Winter?" asked Hil.
"He's gone to Toowoomba."
"Toowoomba! What for?"
"Well, to tell the truth, we are not satisfied that Wyck is really dead, and Hal has gone to enquire at the hotel he stopped at and interview Bill Adams; but mind, to anyone else, he has gone to Albury for a couple of days."
"I see," said Hil.
"Do you know," asked May, "that Mr. Philamore has lately been in Queensland?"
"No. Is that so?"
"Well he started telling us a story about camp-life, and suddenly stopped and, though we both tried to persuade him to continue, he would not."
"And what do you make of that?"
"Nothing, except it seemed curious, considering he has only just come out from England."
"I have just left Mrs. Montague. Will you ladies go and call on her? She expressed a wish to make your acquaintance."
"When?"
"Well, she's at home this afternoon."
"We'd go if we only had an escort."
"Won't I do, Miss Goodchild?"
"If you will honour us," she said, with a mock curtsey.
"And we will both go and put on our brand-new dresses in honour of the occasion," said Hil, following May from the room.
Reg sat down and fell into a brown study. His lost Amy held the first place in his thoughts, but unconsciously of late he had found the formof May Goodchild, not usurping the image of his dead love, but appearing as it were by her side. He did not know whether to take himself to task for want of loyalty, but in the midst of his cogitations he was interrupted by the return of the ladies, costumed in the latest fashion.
"Understand," said Hil, as they walked out to the carriage, "You are to be our chaperon, and keep us in order."
"Trust me, I'll sing out if I see any lapse," he answered, laughing.
Mrs. Montague and the girls became fast friends from the outset, and when Reg and her husband left for a smoke they became quite confidential. She told them all her experiences and how Reg had come to her rescue.
"You see, here I am with a husband who worships me; a successful career; my sisters at school and well cared-for, and wherever I go I am so well received; and all this I owe to Mr. Morris."
"Yes, he is a fine fellow, and had it not been for him I should not have been here to-day," said May, telling her tale of rescue by the boys.
The girls enjoyed their visit, and had extracted from Mrs. Montague a promise to make BlueGums her home for the remainder of her stay. As the carriage was taking them down Pitt Street, Reg started in surprise as his eye caught sight of a man crossing the street.
"Joe Brown!" he cried. "That's him for a certainty, in spite of his store clothes. If you'll excuse me I'll follow him. I'll keep you informed," he added, as the carriage was stopped, and he raised his hat.
Hastily hurrying in the direction taken by Joe Brown, Reg soon caught sight of him again. He shadowed him to Market Street, where he entered one of those cheap restaurants, at which one can get a bed or a three-course meal for sixpence. Reg sauntered about for fully an hour before he re-appeared. At last his patience was rewarded. Brown appeared, and walked in the direction of George Street, and halted at the corner of a cross-street, and waited as if expecting someone. Presently a hansom pulled up and Joe stepped in and sat down by the side of another man, and the cab drove rapidly away.
"The plot thickens," said Reg to himself. "Now, what the devil has he to do with Joe?" and he called a cab and had himself driven to Blue Gums.
"Well, did you see him?" asked Hil, eagerly.
"Yes, and who do you think picked him up in a cab?"
"Mr. Philamore?"
"Yes, but how did you guess that?" said Reg, in surprise.
"I'll tell you what it is. I fancy that red-headed gentleman either knows something, or is not exactly what he professes to be."
"We'll wait until we hear from Hal, before doing anything further," said Reg.
"Yes, it would be just as well. But you will stay for dinner, as Mr. Goodchild and some Tasmanian friends are coming to-night."
Reg did not refuse, needless to say. On his return to his hotel he found two telegrams and a letter waiting for him. Opening one of the telegrams, he read: