y. How do we know his death was not a
put-up job?"

"Quite right, Hal, I think we ought to settle that point at once. If
Wyck is dead, his clothes will still be at Toowoomba; if he is alive,
he will have called for his stick, and we must find him."

"The express leaves at eight to-morrow morning. You can make an excuse
for me to the girls, but let's keep the business to ourselves until it
is settled," said Hal.

"You'll wire if you hear anything?"

"Of course. I don't think I shall, but at any rate we'll settle the
question, and have done with it."

The next morning Hal left for Toowoomba, and at mid-day Reg called at
Petty's Hotel, and sent in his card to Mrs. Montague. He was at once
shown in and met with a hearty reception.

"Mr. Morris," said she, "you see I have fulfilled my promise."

"Yes, and I don't know of anything which has delighted me more. I was
there last night, and never enjoyed a play more."

"I saw you. You were in a box with two ladies and two gentlemen."

"Yes, they were my friends."

Here a gentleman entered the room, and to Reg's surprise Marjorie ran to
him and said:

"Arthur, this is Mr. Morris."

"Morris!" said he. "What! the real Morris? My dear sir, I am delighted
to see you."

"That's my husband," said she, in answer to his look of enquiry, then
added in a sad voice, "poor old Jones died a month before my leaving, he
sent a short message to you,--it was: 'Tell Mr. Morris that he made me
happy.' Poor old chap!"

"I am heartily glad to see that Mrs. Montague took my advice. It would
have been a thousand pities had she buried her talent because of a
scoundrel."

"Have you came across him yet, Mr. Morris?"

"No, not yet," said Reg, slowly, "for months I have been on his tracks,
and the other day he was reported to be drowned, but I can hardly
believe it, so my friend has gone off to find out the truth."

"Who was that red-haired gentleman in your box?"

"His name is Philamore, he knows you."

"Philamore? I don't remember the name, but there was something in his
face which seemed familiar."

"Fancy, my dear, only fancy," said Mr. Montague. "But you, Mr. Morris,
you will join us at lunch. I want to drink your health, for it is to you
I owe my meeting with my wife."

Reg was persuaded to stay, but he did so reluctantly, as he had half
promised to lunch at Blue Gums.

"Will you let me introduce my lady friends to you?" he asked.

"I should be most happy to meet any frie