"I met him in London. I was on hand when he came back, but he didn't say much. Only he showed me a newspaper containing an account of the violent death of a rich man in New York, and when he pointed to the article he gave me a knowing look—that was all."
"But you inferred, Jem, that the old cove was the enemy of our mistress, Belle Demona?"
"I hardly remember what I inferred just then," answered Jem, draining his glass. "But let's quit this subject, Riggs; it's not a pleasant one."
"Agreed, Jem. We'll make up the story for Belle about your supposed visit to Melbourne."
Jem laughed at this, and the two talked half an hour longer, when they left the tap-room.
There was an eager and triumphant look in the Quaker's eyes.
He had all the clews in his hands; he had picked up many a thread since setting foot on Australian soil, and the coils of guilt had tightened around Merle Macray.
He parted with Jem in the street, and saw the young man wend his way toward the gambling den.
"Good-by, Jem," said Old Broadbrim under his breath. "If thee knew to whom thee has talked to-night perhaps thy nerves wouldn't be quite as steady as they are. But never mind, Jem. Thee is not in the shadow of the noose."
In a little while the detective stood on the porch of his hotel and was watching the many figures that flitted past underneath the lamps.