e had originally invested in
the paper, and went to Melbourne to start a weekly magazine, "The
Freelance."

In this undertaking, he was able to ensure success by his own ability
and, perhaps to a still greater degree, by the assistance of Jackson and
O'Connor, who were at that time the leading advertising firm in
Melbourne.

Prior to giving him support, Jackson stepped into Desmond O'Connor's
room to debate Denis Quirk's credentials with his junior.

"See here, Desmond," he said, "you know more about Quirk than I. We were
together on "The Golden Eagle" at Fenton before he went to America, and
we have continued friends right down to to-day, but his ability is an
unknown quantity to me."

Desmond O'Connor heard this remark with considerable interest.

"Do you also know Gerard?" he asked.

"Never heard the name."

"Then I have to thank Denis Quirk for your interest in me?"

Jackson had forgotten Denis Quirk's letter, with its request to keep the
latter's name a secret from Desmond. He answered readily:

"Partly Quirk; but largely yourself. Quirk sent me to you and I liked
you. That was my reason for helping you in the beginning; later on you
helped yourself."

"I have done Quirk an injustice, and now I can help him. Well he
deserves it. Quirk is a born journalist. He understands the public as no
other man does, and knows what to say to them and how to say it. This
paper of his is a certain success."

"Then we will support him. Put the 'Freelance's' name down for a regular
column of advertisement," said Jackson.

"I will slip round and see Quirk," suggested Desmond.

Denis Quirk was in his office, busy in putting his ideas into effect
with a piece of foolscap in front of him, and the telephone receiver
close at hand.

"Jackson and O'Connor re advertisement," he read on his list.

"I may as well try them; probably they will say: 'Prove yourself, and
we will support you.'"

He rang the bell, and had the receiver at his ear, when Desmond entered.

"It is all right, Exchange," he cried. "I will ring up again. Hullo,
O'Connor! Glad to see you. I was just ringing the office up. Take a
seat."

Desmond sat down.

"Quirk," he said; "I owe you a good deal."

"That old chatterbox, Jackson! Has he been bleating?" Denis asked.

"Inadvertently he opened the bag, and out jumped the cat. You are a
little bit old-fashioned, Quirk. If every man hid his virtues as you do,
Jackson and O'Connor would be forced to clo