CHAPTER I.
'I think,' said Faber, with a sigh, 'that I must leave Australia and go to other lands, where I can make more money. You remember when that Egyptian woman bore the last—positively the last—remains of Margrave, or Louis Grayle, to the vessel?'
'I do,' quoth Doctor Fenwick.
'Well, a pencil dropped from the pocket of the inanimate form. I picked it up, and on it was stamped in gilded letters:
'FABER, No. 4.'
I believe it may belong to one of my family—lost, perhaps, in the ocean of commerce.'
'Who knows? We will think of this anon; but hark! the tea-bell is rung; let us enter the house.'