the next two days were among the most worrying that i ever remember. i had entered heart and soul into the discovery of mcswiney’s companion, and when the first day had drawn entirely blank, and that night i crept footsore and utterly tired out into my comfortable bed at the central hotel, i don’t think there could have been a more despondent man in all adelaide.

the chief and old inspector kitson looked pretty down in the mouth too. as we had arranged, they came late to my bedroom at night, and i recounted to them all i had done during the day. i had been on my feet before eight in the morning. i had tramped up and down all the streets of the city. i had visited, in turn, almost every bar in the square mile, and my inside was thoroughly upset and discomforted with the innumerable soft drinks i had had to absorb in my pilgrimage.

but no sign of our man had i seen; nothing in any way answering to the picture of him i had conjured up, and it was rather beginning to grip upon me that i should not perhaps recognise him if indeed, we both came face to face.

one adventure, however, i had had. nat saunders had recognised me, and i had had to stop and have a chat. his eyes had bulged at my new clothes and altered appearance, but i had explained things to him with a yarn about a rich cousin who had unexpectedly run up against me and acted the fairy prince. i told him we were now stopping at glenelg, and i had flourished a little wad of notes in his face to impress him with the truth of my tale. i had also given him a ten-shilling note for himself, and promised him another in a day or two if he held his tongue about me in the lodging-house.

i said my cousin was a very proud man, and well in with some of the richest toffs in adelaide, and if he found out that it was getting about amongst his pals that i had lived at the lodging-house, he might just turn me down as quickly as he had picked me up.

old nat had taken several strong oaths that he would not breathe a word to anyone, and would not mention anything to the other lodgers.

then he had told me the passing news of the city, but it had not interested me, except in one item. the old gossip was positive the “‘tecs were after some bird in the city.” the plainclothes men were all over the place, he had said, and they had even got them in the ticket offices and behind the book-stall at north road station.

all this information i somewhat maliciously passed on to the chief as he sat that night on the edge of my bed drinking a late whisky and soda but he only shrugged his shoulders and said, sarcastically, it was unfortunately quite impossible for all his men to change their faces.

“i understand,” he added, “that your friend, nat, has been gaoled so often as a ‘drunk,’ that he now calls every man jack of the city police by their christian names.”

then he gave me a piece of information that, in turn, made me sit up.

“our chap’s in the city right enough,” he said, “and i should think not over flush with money. he passed one of the stolen fivers at bewlay’s the tobacconist, on monday, but unhappily, they can’t describe the man. now, i argue he wouldn’t take that risk, although a comparatively small one, if he were well in funds. undoubtedly, he’ll be looking about now to replenish his purse, and if we don’t get him in a day or two, we shall probably hear of him in a way we don’t like. don’t you think so, inspector?”

“he’s a man of great resource,” cautiously admitted the inspector, “and i don’t think he’ll let the grass grow under his feet. when he gets the slightest inkling that all’s not well with mcswiney, you’ll see, he’ll trail off from here like a puff of smoke. i’ve had some before.”

“oh, but, inspector,” bantered the chief smiling, “adelaide’s not melbourne. here in adelaide, in this beautiful dry atmosphere of ours, we never get the fog into our brains. if this much-wanted gentleman trails off from south australia, it will only be in a nice, tight-fitting pair of handcuffs, in the interstate express, with his dear friend, arnold kitson, sitting by his side. but come, it’s always well to be cheerful, and we’re not going to confess ourselves beaten yet. we’ll see what tomorrow brings. good night, mr. stratton, sample plenty more soft drinks tomorrow again,” and off the two men went, leaving me to my dreams.

the next day seemed likely to be as unfortunate as the first. all the morning i was tramping over the same streets and spending fourpences and sixpences galore on a nauseating variety of fizzy drinks.

it was one of adelaide’s really hot days, and the temperature was dancing merrily up to about 105 deg. in the shade. towards noon, i was just longing for a good rest, but in spite of the heat i stuck grimly to my task, for, as the chief had impressed upon me, about mid-day would probably be the very time when our bird would come off his nest for a nice cool drink.

but no. lunch time came and went, and the afternoon began to wane, finding me tired and disspirited at lack of success.

just after four, however, something happened that for the time, at least, made me forget all my anxieties.

i met the girl face to face. it was in king william street, near the bank of adelaide, and she was walking with another girl, some few years older than herself.

she saw me at once, and looked at me in a half-puzzled sort of way, but with quite a frank, interested expression upon her pretty face. i returned her glance with interest, and she reddened just a little, and turned away her eyes. it was only for the seconds in passing that our eyes had met, but i was in the seventh heaven to think she had noticed me at all.

almost directly we had passed, i looked round and saw them both going into a cafe.

my mind was made up at once, and turning quickly back, i followed them inside. the interior of the cafe was deliciously dark and cool, and fairly crowded with people.

i saw the two girls just sitting down at the far end of the room, and i made my way round to get as near as possible to them without being seen.

as luck would have it, there was a vacant table just behind them, and i promptly seated myself there, effectually screened from observation by the leaves of a large palm exactly in front of me.

by cautiously leaning round, however, i could get a good view sideways of miss vane, and what a charming profile i thought she had!

now that i could observe her carefully, i saw she was even younger than i had thought. barely out of her teens she appeared to me, only just in the first bloom of womanhood. the gentle outlines of her face, and the soft, round curves of her body, suggested to me the very early morning of a woman’s life. there was something so dainty and so virginal about her whole appearance that it seemed to me a sacrilege she should be ever destined to be touched and goaded by the rough hand of passion. and yet, as i watched her, i could see the loving woman there, and once awakened, i was sure she would warmly glow and answer to the caresses of the man she loved.

all my boldness, however, seemed to have dropped away from me, and i felt ashamed that i had followed her in. it was not a nice thing to do, i told myself, and worse still, when they commenced to talk, i found i could plainly hear everything they said.

they had ordered ices, and for a while both were busy; then the other girl spoke.

“you are very quiet, mary, what’s the matter with you? has anyone been walking over your grave?”

“oh, no,” laughed miss vane. “i was thinking of something not at all unpleasant, only rather curious.”

“well, come on, let’s hear what it is.”

“it’s nothing particular, dear, but i was just thinking how strange life is.”

“nonsense; it’s not all strange. if we only knew, almost the same things happen to every one of us. what is it strange that has happened to you?”

“only coincidences, but they set me wondering. i’ll tell you about it. you remember last week we went to lady buzby’s, and they had that fortune-teller there. well, she told everyone the usual jargon, but with me, she just let herself go, probably, because i think percy thornton had put her up to it. she said i was heart-whole at present, which was quite true, but soon, very soon, some one was coming into my life who would quickly alter all that. now, you know, mr. thornton has been up to our house a great deal lately, and i should be very dull if i didn’t see he was coming after me. the dear old dad is always chaffing me about it, and would, i think, be quite pleased to see a match.

“i like percy thornton well enough, but i’m sure i could never marry him. i couldn’t ever dream of myself as putting my arms round his neck or letting him kiss me as long as he wanted to, without turning my face away.”

“oh, mary, you sound like a young woman of experience. i shall be getting shocked.”

“no, dear, you needn’t begin to get shocked. i’ve never had a sweetheart myself, yet, but i’ve stayed in plenty of houses where courting was going on, and so know exactly how ordinary lovers behave. well, i tell you honestly, i have never been interested in boys until last week, and then, for a few minutes, i saw a boy that i thought any girl might get rather fond of. he looked such a nice boy, and as if he’d been an officer, but he was, evidently, from his appearance, very hard up. he looked so unhappy and despondent that i couldn’t help pitying him, and i have thought a lot about him since. well, that was only last saturday, and the coincidence is, i’ve just seen him again before we came in here. but he looked, oh, so different today. he was quite smart and well-dressed, and i’m wondering what’s happened.”

“and did this beautiful boy see you just now, pray?”

“of course he saw me; we both caught sight of each other together.”

“and both blushed together, too, no doubt. well, perhaps it’s the first love for you both. you great goose! what’s the matter with you is you want a proper boy of your own, now. someone to take care of you, and make a fuss of you, and keep you from thinking of every handsome face you see anywhere. i know what it was myself before my charlie came along. but if you are determined not to have mr. thornton, i’ll look out and find someone else for you at once. see if i don’t.”

“no, netta, without joking, i’ve made up my mind not to have anything to do with anyone, anyhow, until i’m over twenty-one, and that’s not until eleven months’ time. i’m frightened.”

“fiddle-dedee. you’re in just the state of mind to give yourself to the first nice boy who comes along. of course you’re frightened. that’s the primitive woman, my dear, just realising for the first time that someone’s going to be her master. well, come on, mary, we mustn’t stop here all day. i’ve a lot more shopping to do, and besides, if we go out now, we may find that handsome boy of yours waiting for us outside.”

and the two girls got up and went out of the cafe.

i sat on for quite ten minutes thinking. it was very hard for me exactly to analyse my feelings. i felt ashamed with myself for following them, and yet much more ashamed still, that i had afterwards sat there listening. but the conversation had come upon me quite unexpectedly and taken on the personal nature it had, so suddenly, that i had not really had a proper chance of getting away. if i had left the cafe before them they would surely have seen me, and things would have been a hundred times worse.

but if i was angry with myself for the part i had played in following and listening, i was full of triumph in hearing from the girl’s own lips that she was remembering me. put it from me as i tried, the presentiment was stronger in me than ever, that the threads of fate were gathering to link her life with mine.

how long i should have gone on dreaming i do not know, if i had not suddenly remembered the real business i was on. i paid my bill quickly and went out again into the glare of the street.

almost the first person i ran up against was old nat saunders, with a bundle of papers under his arm. he would not have noticed me, but this time i stopped him for an evening paper.

his face beamed when he saw me, and then he beckoned me mysteriously out of the way of the traffic to the comparative quietness of a shop window. i saw he had something to tell me.

“there was another friend of yours asking after you yesterday,” he said, “a darkish looking man with a small moustache. he must have seen you talking to me when you gave me the ten-shilling note, for directly you had left me, he came up and asked me about you.

“first he bought a sport and gave me sixpence, telling me to keep the change. then he said, just off-hand like, ‘by the bye, wasn’t that young fellow you were just talking to, young mr. wheatley?’ i remembered what i promised you, and told him i didn’t know who you were. ‘but you were talking as if you knew him,’ he said, and i said ‘oh, yes, he’s a regular customer of mine, and often buys papers off me, but that’s all i know about him.’ ‘well,’ he said, ‘he looked like a man i used to know a long time ago up in kalgoorlie. but it doesn’t matter.’ and off he went.”

i thanked the old man for holding his tongue, and went off at once to ring up the chief.

the information nat saunders had given me was very important, for the inquirer could only have been the man we wanted, although apparently, he was now wearing a moustache. he would, of course, be interested in me, recognising in me the ‘mug’ tod mcswiney had set out to stalk, and no doubt, he was extremely curious to learn how i had got on, and how it was i was now walking about the city and mcswiney was — he knew not where.

the chief whistled cheerfully when i gave him my news over the ‘phone. “good, good, very good,” he said. “our friend is undoubtedly still with us, and as he bought sport, it’s twenty to one he’s going to the races at gawler tomorrow. he’ll go a bit disguised, i expect, and so, now, must you. go right off the city at once. go back to the central, and don’t, for worlds, move out again to-night.

“you shall be motored into gawler tomorrow, and at ten o’clock sharp i’ll send a man up to your room to disguise you. you can trust this man thoroughly; he’s a perfect artist, and when he’s done with you your best girl even wouldn’t recognise you if she stood three feet from you in the street. what’s your size in boots? ah, all right, good-bye, and be careful.”

i went to bed very early, and spent most of the night dreaming of mary vane.

next morning, according to instructions, i had breakfast in my room, and by 9.30 was ready for the man who was coming to tog me up.

he turned up punctually on the stroke of ten, and i was surprised to find he was obviously an american. he was a little, smart dapper man, with bushy eyebrows and the usual goatte beard. he was not at all communicative, but when he did speak, it was with a soft nasal twang. he had brought quite a large bag with him, and rather to my disgust, provided me with a pair of ugly boots and an entire suit of clothes of a most horrible shape and cut. when my dressing was completed, he sat me down before the window, and for fully half an hour worked on me with the instruments of his craft.

scissors, brush, pencil, powder, paint, and small tufts of false hair, were all in turn called into requisition, and when i at last rose from my chair and looked into the mirror, it was a very strange face that looked me back. from a beauty point of view, i did not admire my appearance, but the man was certainly, as the chief had said, an artist, and my nearest friend would not have recognised me then.

“what am i supposed to be?” i grumbled rather ungraciously, after all the trouble he had taken.

“well, mr. stratton,” he drawled quietly, “you’re just a young pastoralist, and you’ve come off some farm to lose all your wages at the races; there’s always plenty such as you at gawler, and we’ll see your twin brother on every part of the course.”

“oh,” i asked in surprise, “so you’re coming with me, are you? well, if so,” i went on, as he nodded his head in assent, “what, please, am i to call you? you seem to have got hold of my name right enough.”

“well,” he replied, looking rather amused, “you can call me what you like. you see, you hardly know me well enough yet to call me ‘arnold,’ so perhaps you’d better call me inspector, or if you prefer it, mr. kitson.”

i fairly gasped in mingled astonishment and annoyance. this artist, then, was the little melbourne detective all the time, and for over half an hour he had turned and handled me, with his face only a few inches off my own, and i hadn’t seen through his make-up, or even suspected that he was disguised.

then my better nature overcame my annoyance at being had so easily, and i held out my hand admiringly to the little man. “inspector, you’re a marvel. even now, i can almost doubt it’s you.”

“the better for me,” he chuckled, “and the better, too, for you, lad,” he went on, dropping into a grave tone. “you know it isn’t a picnic we’re going to, mr. stratton. it’s no safe business today. the man we want, if he’s the party i think he is, won’t be caught like friend tod with an empty gun; and what’s more, he’ll shoot all over the place before he’s taken, if he’s got the fraction of a second to get his hand back to his hip. i tell you, we must give away no chances today.”

“then you do think you’ll know the man, inspector?” i asked. “do you think you’ll know him if you see him?”

“not by his face,” came the instant reply, “for i’ve never seen his face; but by his actions. if he’s my man, he’s a left-handed man, and he can shoot the pips off a card at ten paces every time. back twelve months ago i almost had him in castlemain one evening. four of my best men pounced on him in the street, but he put a bullet in them all and got away. two were killed outright, and both of the others badly hit. oh, he’s a masterpiece, this chap. but come on, we’ve twenty-five miles to go in the car, and we ought to be at gawler by twelve.”

it was quite a pleasant drive in the car, and i found the inspector a most entertaining companion. beneath his crabbed exterior there was a genial, happy little man who could give and take a joke with anyone. i found out later, however, that he was never happier or brighter than when engaged upon a dangerous enterprise, and if that were so, i always think now, some of us must have been in very great danger that afternoon.

half a mile from gawler, i was dropped by arrangement, to complete the journey on foot along the dusty road.

we had carefully thought out all our plans, and upon reaching the racecourse, i mounted at once to the north side of the grandstand. we had agreed that it was best i should not hang about the entrance gate, for if our man had any thought at all that we were trying to corner him, his suspicions would naturally be most on the alert upon first entering the enclosure.

once, however, he found nothing to attract his notice there, we argued, his suspicions, if he had any, would die down, and as the afternoon wore on, if i did see him, he would be the easier to approach and apprehend.

we expected him to come made up, which would add something to the difficulty of my recognising him, but we all had agreed our great trump card lay in the fact that he would be out there at gawler to make money.

he might indeed, be coming to change one or two of the dangerous five-pound notes he was holding, but in the main, he would be watching for someone drawing a nice win at the totalisator, as in my case at victoria park. that would be the time i should be most likely to see him.

the chief had insisted i must keep some way away from the pay windows, and only approach near if i thought i saw my man. therefore, i installed myself straight away, for the time, at the side of the grandstand. i could observe the pay windows well from there, and with a pair of good binoculars that the chief had lent me, could keep a sure eye on anyone lounging near. if i should spot the gentleman, i was to get round behind him and give the signal by fumbling with my collar at the back. i understood there was to be a small army of plainclothes men ready to support me.

the course filled up with the crowd one sees usually at the gawler meetings. plenty of people from the city, and a fair sprinkling of the local country folk.

it is quite a pretty little compact course is gawler, and everything is well managed, and if it had not been for my anxiety, i should have thoroughly enjoyed the racing provided.

the first race was won by the favourite, and as the dividend returned was not two to one, i didn’t expect our bird would find much to interest him near the pay windows. so i got up to stretch my legs a bit, and walked among the crowd in front of the band.

i kept a wary eye on all dark men of medium height, but nothing came my way, and the jockeys having weighed out for the second race, i returned to my former place on the grandstand.

short-priced favourites won the second and third races, too, and there was nothing hopeful yet. in vain in the intervals between the races did i perambulate the course. i went up and down the paddock, round the refreshment booths, and left no part of the enclosure unvisited many times.

the fourth event was a five furlong scramble, and i thought for this race i would change my tactics. so just before the ‘off’ was shouted, i took up my position with my back to the judge’s box and raked every occupant of the whole grandstand carefully with my binoculars.

but no, there was nothing doing. not a face struck any note of recognition in me, excepting one that reminded me of the fat policeman who had brought in my dinner when i was being detained at the police headquarters three days before.

i had just lowered my glasses despondently when a great roar went up, telling me that the horses were on their way. i couldn’t, of course, see much of the race from where i was standing, but as everyone started shouting the favourite’s name as they came round the bend for home, i concluded that, for the fourth time in succession, the dividend was going to be a poor one.

just before the horses reached the winning post, however, a great groan went up from the crowd. the favourite was seen to be well beaten, and a few seconds later the numbers hoisted in the frame showed that he was only third.

“just fancy ibex winning,” said a man standing next to me, “and the stable, i know, hadn’t got a penny on him. hardly anyone backed him. he’ll pay at least forty to one, you see if he doesn’t.”

now, i thought, was our chance. if there was anything in our theory, in a few minutes the man of crime would be close to the pay windows, and well on the lookout.

i had plenty of time to get back to my old seat in the grandstand, for it was fully twenty minutes before the dividend was declared, ￡22 10s. for each ten shillings invested.

i glued the glasses to my eyes and breathlessly regarded everyone who came near the pay window of the winning horse.

one, two, three, four, five, six i counted there at once, but no one bore the very slightest resemblance to the man i wanted. then the usual little crowd of curious spectators appeared and started joking and congratulating the lucky winners upon their success. i ran my glasses over them carefully, but found nothing to raise any hopes. i really began to feel quite sick with disappointment when suddenly i caught sight of a stoutish-looking man lounging on one of the seats close beside the palings. he was not at all like the man i was looking for, being shorter and much too stout, but when the glasses rested on him, my interest was at once aroused by something odd about his face. he was quite close, only about ten yards from me, and about midway between the pay window and where i sat.

it struck me instantly in what a good position he was to observe all that was going on at the window, and yet, not to appear too interested in the people filing up.

as i say, he was so close that i put down the glasses and had a good stare at him without them.

my hopes fell to zero; he was quite ordinary, and there was nothing peculiar about him.

i was marking him finally off the list when readjusting the binoculars, i happened to focus them for a second on his face again.

certainly there was something peculiar about him i saw, but it evidently only showed up when i had got the glasses on him.

then it came to me all in a flash — he was ‘made up.’ my heart thumped like a hammer, and i had to lean hard against the wall to keep the glasses steady. yes, the lines and shadows on both sides of his face did not correspond, and one eyebrow was distinctly out of keeping with the other.

i snapped the glasses sharply in their case and moved down off the grandstand as quickly as i could.

the man was still watching the pay window, and i got close up to him, without his turning his head.

he was like the man we wanted and yet he wasn’t. the dark eyes and squat broad nose were there, but this chap was shorter, stouter, and much broader. i was in despair.

if i gave the signal and it proved not to be the man, i should irretrievably spoil all chance of success. if tod’s companion were indeed in the enclosure, the commotion of any arrest would put him on his guard at once, and all our chances would be gone.

i didn’t know what to do.

i retired back among the crowd by the grandstand, and keeping my eyes fixed on the man i suspected, tried calmly to weigh up all the chances of pro and con.

would nothing help me to a decision, i thought, and then something suddenly did.

the man lighted a cigarette, and between the puffs, began to spit.

my tongue came dry in my mouth, and i held my breath in a tremor of excitement. whom had i seen spit like that before? whom but mcswiney’s friend as they stood near me, side by side, just a week ago in victoria park.

i was quite certain now, but i stood still as it were carefully to consider my cards before i declared trumps.

sure of success, i became now at once perfectly calm and collected. i sent my mind travelling back to those bloody days in france, and tried hard to think exactly what we should have done there, under similar circumstances.

surely, i told myself, several well-prepared men could rush one single, unprepared man before he’d time to reach for his gun from his hip pocket.

we couldn’t get behind him, because the seat he was on was bang up against the palings; and we couldn’t well rush him in front, because he was away from the crowd, with a good clear space before him. so the best thing to do, i argued, was to wait until he got up, and then take him from behind. but i would give the signal anyhow, right away, for everyone to be prepared.

now, i didn’t in the least know how the chief and inspector kitson had arranged for their men, but they had told me positively i should be followed everywhere, and could take it for granted that ample help would be at hand whenever i should need it.

i therefore looked round meaningly on all sides into the crowd, and then deliberately began fumbling with my coat collar at the back. then, still standing where i was, i started a cigarette, to let them know there was no immediate hurry.

it was a good five minutes before my gentleman moved; then he got up leisurely from the seat and sauntered slowly towards the rails.

the horses for the next race had gone down to the post, and there was the usual last minute rushing about to get on at the tote.

our friend slowly threaded his way through the crowd, evidently from the changing direction of his steps, following someone just in front of him. i closed in on him behind, devoutly hoping all the time that when i did strike there would be adequate help at hand.

suddenly, the man seemed to take suspicion at something, for he turned round sharply with big, gaping eyes, and his left hand went in a flash to his hip. but i was on him in a trice, and before he could get his hand clear, had pinioned both his arms to his side. he struggled desperately, and getting his right arm free, landed me two vicious blows in the face. then it seemed to me there were a whole crowd of people on him, and a man dressed as a clergyman produced a stout pair of handcuffs and deftly locked them on his wrists. it was all over in a few seconds, and he was carried away, cursing and struggling, through the crowd. they took him to a place behind the weighing-room, and for twenty minutes or so i was left wondering as to whether, after all, we had got the right man.

then the chief came out radiant and shook me warmly by the hand.

“keep clear of kitson, my friend,” he said, all smiles, “for i think he’s going to hug you presently. you’ve done splendidly. it’s the man we wanted, and there’s heaps of evidence on him. we’ve found nearly all the other half of the notes taken at mount gambier, and everything’s as clear as day. his finger prints presently will clinch the whole thing. no wonder he looked stout; he was padded all over. but by jove some of us had a narrow escape. if you hadn’t held, he’d have played hell with that automatic of his. it seems he recognised two of kitson’s melbourne men, and that’s what made him so quick to handle his gun. he’s given you a nasty cut, anyhow.”

“oh, that’s nothing,” i replied. “i don’t think i’ve ever felt quite so happy before.”

“yes, and you’ve made a lot of people happy too, today, my boy,” he went on. “i’ve just heard smithers had eleven pounds of the station money on ibex — entirely on your recommendation. he says you told him to go nap on a locally trained one, and our men clubbed together and sent him down here.

“well, come on; let’s go and have a drink. i’ll stand you anything you like today.”