or them. But see, Mr. Hatteras, there's something on the table at the
farther end."

So there was--something that looked very much like a letter. Together we
went round to the end of the table, and there, surely enough, found a
letter pinned to the American cloth, and addressed to my companion in a
bold but rather quaint handwriting.

"It's for you, Mr. Wetherell," I said, removing the pins and presenting
it to him. Thereupon we sat down beside the table, and he broke the seal
with trembling fingers. It was not a very long epistle, and ran:--

"MY DEAR MR. WETHERELL,--

"Bags of imitation money and spurious bank-notes will not avail
you, nor is it politic to arrange that the Water Police should meet
you on the harbour for the purpose of arresting me. You have lost
your opportunity, and your daughter accordingly leaves Australia
to-night. I will, however, give you one more chance--take care that
you make the most of it. The sum I now ask is L150,000 _with the
stick given you by China Pete_, and must be paid without inquiry of
any sort. If you are agreeable to this, advertise as follows, 'I
will Pay--W., and give stick!' in the agony column _Sydney Morning
Herald_, on the 18th, 19th, and 20th of this present month.
Arrangements will then be made with you.

"THE MAN WHO KNOWS."

"Oh, my God, I've ruined all!" cried Mr. Wetherell as he put the letter
down on the table; "and--who knows?--I may have killed my poor child!"

Seeing his misery, I did my best to comfort him; but it was no use. He
seemed utterly broken down by the failure of our scheme, and, if the
truth must be told, my own heart was quite as heavy. One thing was very
certain, there was a traitor in our camp. Some one had overheard our
plans and carried them elsewhere. Could it be the footman? If so, he
should have it made hot for him when I got sufficient proof against him;
I could promise him that most certainly. While I was thinking over this,
I heard a footstep on the companion stairs, and a moment later the
Inspector made his appearance. His astonishment at finding us alone,
reading a letter by the light of one solitary candle, was unmistakable,
for he said, as he came towards us and sat down, "Why, how's this? Where
are the men?"

"There are none. We've been nicely sold," I answered, handing him the
letter. He perused it without further remark, and when he had done so,
sat drumming wi