adventure. That's why I came home to-night, Dad. I'm leaving in the
morning."

Elder Fox had been listening intently, and at mention of the proposed
trip he grew pale.

"I--er--should not go if I were you, Harold. They may arrest you again.
The police of Australia have a way of remembering things against former
prisoners."

"How do you know so much about the police of Australia?"

"I've read it, sir," hastily explained the Elder.

"But I've got to go, Dad. They'll not pinch me. They found the right
chap before they let me go, and couldn't do enough for me when they
discovered their mistake.... You say you've never visited Sydney, Mr.
McGowan?"

"I was born there. But I don't remember anything about the place, as we
moved away when I was a mere lad. I've often heard my father speak about
it. He was a trader there in the early days."

"May I see your father to-night?" asked Harold eagerly. "He may be able
to save me a trip over. Where does he live?"

"He is not living. He and Mother both died a few years after coming to
America. The climate was too severe for them."

"I beg your pardon," apologized Harold. "I didn't know. I'm so anxious
to get news of this man that I rush in where angels would fear to
tread."

"That is perfectly all right. It's no more than natural that you should
think he would be able to help you in your search."

"Yes. He could have doubtless given me valuable information concerning
the traders of his day, and thus have put me on the trail of my client.
This man was arrested on some charge trumped up by two scamps, but was
later released and exonerated. They'd arrest a man over there for
looking at his own watch if he happened to cross his eyes while doing
it. At the time when my client was in trouble the convict-ships were in
business."

The Elder dropped back from the edge of his chair which he had held
since the beginning of the conversation. He gave his son a look of dumb
appeal. With an effort he straightened and glared vacantly across the
table.

"I was aboard the convict-ship _Success_ while she was in the New York
harbor this spring," commented the minister. "I don't see how civilized
men could think out so many different modes of torture and remain
civilized, let alone human."

"Nor I. I was aboard the old tub, too. That was the ship my client was
on. It was when she first came out."

The Elder was acting queerly.

"Dad, what's wrong?" asked Harold, with concern.

"Not