hortly become apparent, it is unnecessary to
introduce any of the above-mentioned persons to the reader--with two
exceptions. Of these two exceptions one was a girl some three and
twenty years of age, of medium height, perfect figure, lovely features
crowned by an extraordinary wealth of sunny chestnut wavy hair with a
glint of ruddy gold in it where the sun struck it, and a pair of
marvellous dark blue eyes. Her beauty of face and form was perfect; and
she would have been wonderfully attractive but for the unfortunate fact
that her manner towards everybody was characterised by a frigid hauteur
that at once effectually discouraged the slightest attempt to establish
one's self on friendly terms with her. It was abundantly clear that she
was a spoiled child, in the most pronounced acceptation of the term, and
would be likely to remain so all her life unless some extraordinary
circumstance should haply intervene to break down her repellent pride,
and bring to the surface those sterling qualities of character that ever
and anon seemed struggling for an opportunity to assert themselves. Her
name was Flora Trevor; her father was an Indian judge; and, accompanied
by her maid, and chaperoned--nominally, at least--by a friend and former
schoolfellow of her mother, she was now proceeding on a visit to some
relatives in Australia prior to joining her father at Bombay.

The other exception was a man, of thirty-two years of age--but who
looked very considerably older. He stood six feet one inch in his
socks; was of exceptionally muscular build, without an ounce of
superfluous flesh anywhere about him; rather thin and worn-looking as to
face--which was clean-shaven and tinted a ruddy bronze, as though the
owner had been long accustomed to exposure to the weather; of a gloomy
and saturnine cast of countenance; and a manner so cold and
unapproachable that, although on this particular night he had been on
board the _Golden Fleece_ just a fortnight, no one in the ship knew
anything more about him than that he went by the name of Richard Leslie;
and that he was--like the rest of the passengers--on his way to
Australia.

Now, there is no need to make a secret of this man's history; on the
contrary, a brief sketch of it will lead to a tolerably clear
understanding of much that would otherwise prove incomprehensible in his
character and actions. Let it be said, therefore, at once, that he was
the second, and at one time favourite, son