"Yes, there's no doubt of that, old chap."
"Now then, gentlemen," said Camden, returning, "I suppose you are D's.?"
"No, we are not, rest assured of that."
"Last Tuesday night a yacht sailed into the bay and anchored off shore. I recognised it as belonging to Macpherson, of Hobart, who was in the habit of letting it out. A small boat put off and brought ashore a young fellow in flannels, who came up to this house and called for a drink, asking me to join him. In the course of conversation he told me he intended making a few days' stay here, and visiting the ruins. He put up here till yesterday, and made himself very agreeable, and became quite popular, for he seemed to have plenty of coin, and was very free with it. He appeared to make the acquaintance of most of the girls in the neighbourhood, and be very popular with them, too. Well, about two o'clock yesterday we were all in here, and Wyckliffe was in the middle of a funny yarn when the old postmaster came in with a telegram for him, which he said had been sent on from Hobart, where it had been delayed. Wyck took the telegram, but before opening it said, 'Now, boys, drink up, for I have a lady visitor coming, and we'll drink to her safe journey.' The toast was drunk, and Wyck leisurely opened the telegram. I never saw such a change in a man in my life. In an instant he was turned from a jolly, good-hearted fellow, to a noisy, angry bully. His crew were all in the bar drinking, and, by Jove, he made the fellows fly. 'Make up my account at once,' says he to me, and 'get ready to sail on the spot' says he to his men in the same breath. He fussed and fumed about, and seemed fairly mad with rage. The fellows here really thought he was mad, for several tried to persuade him not to start, as they feared dirty weather, but he snapped them up and took no notice of them. In his anxiety he dropped the telegram, and without being seen I pushed it under the counter with my foot. An hour later the yacht was under sail, with two reefs in her mainsail and a small jib set."
They had followed this narrative with interest, and as they went into breakfast Camden asked:
"If you are not connected with the police, who are you?"
"We are merely here to save a young lady from that villain's clutches," said Reg.
"Then I am glad you came," said Camden, heartily, "for I should never have felt easy if I had been in any way connected with that business."
They sent a wire to Goody and sat down to an appetising breakfast of fried flounders, a dish that an epicure in need of a new sensation for his appetite is recommended to journey to Port Arthur to try. Hal and Reg both did excellent justice to the fare, much to the satisfaction and delight of Mrs. Camden, their landlord's wife. After their repast they decided to take the chance offered them of inspecting the prisons, and asked Camden to procure them a guide.
"There's the very man for you," said Camden, pointing to an old fellow sitting in the bar, whom they at once recognised as the man they had met when entering the Port.