the bowden vigilance society was a great success from the very first, and within a few days the adjoining suburbs of croydon and kilkenny asked to come in under our wing. it was quite convenient for us to take them, for many of our streets and roads overlapped, and we soon had a fine wide organisation, working easily and without friction throughout.

we were, of course, as i took care we should be, quite free from any trouble at night, and it soon became a proud boast with us that while the inhabitants of other townships and suburbs cowered shiveringly behind closed doors directly dusk had fallen — we went about our nightly avocations and amusements in a perfectly normal manner.

the adelaide ‘advertiser’ sent down a special commission to investigate and make known our methods, and the next morning, in a long three-column article, spoke most highly of the efficiency and thoroughness of our organisation. it described the perfect system of patrols we had initiated, the remarkable way in which all our arrangements dovetailed into one another, and it pointed significantly to the security and safety our districts had enjoyed, from the very first moment we had taken things in hand.

the article made an immense impression on the city, and were were inundated with enquiries from other districts.

i was asked repeatedly to speak at hastily summoned public meetings and nearly always complied with the requests.

rather to my astonishment still, i found i was a first-class public speaker; indeed, i was more than that — i was an orator.

no matter how important and how influential were the other speakers on a platform, no one could quite so please the public as did i.

big men of the city got up on their legs and with laborious notes made ponderous heavy speeches of the council chamber style. they bored their audiences to stiffness, and it would have been quite possible to photograph the relieved look on the faces of the crowd as they sat down.

but when i got up i always made things hum. i was light and easy to listen to, and spoke quite clearly so that everyone could hear. there was no hesitation at all in my manner, and i had no difficulty in choosing my words. i could reel off sentence after sentence as smoothly and as evenly as if i had previously written it all down. my audiences soon got warmed up. i could make them laugh, and i could make them cry. they would clap and stamp until the dust rose from the floor in clouds and then, with one quick turning of my tongue, i would bring so deep a hush into the hall that it could be almost felt. their faces would grow still and stiff, their eyes would hang on every movement of my lips, and they would sit like statues, carved in stone.

i could play on all their feelings and hand out the sob-stuff or the burning words, just as i chose. when it at last came to the peroration, i would sometimes wind them up to such a pitch of enthusiasm that they would break into my last sentences with a hoarse storm of cheers, so as to make it quite impossible for me to conclude what i had intended to say.

the lord mayor remarked feelingly one night, “if ever the hour has produced the man — today has given us peter wacks.”

in less than three weeks all the suburbs of adelaide had got their vigilance societies. prospect and unley came in last of all. for a few days they turned up their noses and would have nothing to do with us. on two consecutive nights, however, they each had their share of trouble, with the result that they very quickly and very humbly came to heel.

in due course all the local vigilance societies were affiliated together and i was elected president and patrol inspector-inchief.

a rich resident placed a fine car at my disposal so that, as i thought fit, i could visit all the vigilance society centres in turn and see nothing was being neglected for the public safety.

the days sped by and looking back down the newspaper files of the time, one can see plainly that the horror of the city was widening and deepening in intensity.

the crimes undoubtedly were fewer in number and their occurrence was more irregular and spasmodic now, but still the fear of sudden death was over all, and gradually, too, the dreadful feeling was eating into men’s minds that the murderer would never be found out.

murder, too, was not the only thing to be dreaded now. fires had taken to breaking out in altogether totally unexpected quarters and the railways and bridges had now to be guarded.

my mentality at this time is very difficult for me to analyse. as chairman of the vigilance society i had most thoroughly and most efficiently organised the city patrols; as maniac under the influence of the drug, i was doing my utmost to bring all this elaborate machinery to nothing.

it was like some devilish kind of sport to me. i could work only on the darkest nights now, and even then i had to take terrible risks in getting about.

any pedestrian by himself at night was always an object of suspicion and liable to be stopped and searched at any moment.

this, i knew, would have been quite fatal for me, for i still always carried with me my incriminating bar of iron.

one night, late, i was prowling somewhere round st. peters and espied three men coming down the road in my direction.

i dodged into a garden to avoid them, but unfortunately a wretched little pom started yapping and the men stopped when they came up.

“i would swear i saw someone in front of us,” remarked one of them meditatively, “and if i did, he disappeared about here. just flash your lamp will you, josh? yes, just over by that tree.”

i stood motionless where i was in the shadows, and should probably have escaped detection altogether, if the dog hadn’t seen me and rushed down.

i am always quick in my decisions and it was my quickness alone that saved me then.

i had vaulted over into the road quite five seconds before any of the men had realised what had happened, and was well away before they even thought to sound their whistles.

i ran down the road like a hare, but, unfortunately for me, it was a bad place to be chased in. there were villas almost on every side and no vacant lands with any chance of hiding if systematic search were to be made.

i intended to slip over into the botanic garden and chance it among the trees, but just where i was intending to get over, i heard voices and saw lights flashing, and so had to run on. my pursuers were still clamoring and whistling behind me.

the worst of it was that i was now running hard towards the city and any moment the police or patrols might appear and block my way.

just when i reached the corner wall of government house, i heard answering whistles in front of me, and saw the lights of two bicycles coming down towards me. as they came under a lamp i saw they were two of the cycle police.

things were getting desperate, for i was almost exhausted with the long run.

i must get over into the governor’s garden, i told myself. there was no help for it, although it was almost the last place i should have wished to take refuge in. it was the best guarded house in adelaide, i knew, and there were always heaps of police within call.

i pulled myself up quickly by the thick strands of ivy and lay panting on the top of the wall. the ivy was thick and high there, and for the moment i was completely hidden in the shadow of a big tree.

my pursuers met the two policemen a few yards from where i lay, and the latter at once got off their machines.

“seen him?” gasped one of my pursuers. “he can’t have got by here.”

“seen who?” asked one of the policemen quickly. “what are you running after?”

“a man we caught hiding in a front garden. he ran like hell, directly we turned the light on him.”

“what was he doing in the garden?” went on the policeman judicially.

“we don’t know, but he cut directly we saw him, so he couldn’t have been up to any good.”

“where did you lose him then — come on, be quick.”

“well,” panted the man, still out of breath, “if he didn’t pass you, he must have got over the governor’s wall here.”

“why the devil didn’t you say that before?” cut in the policeman roughly. “now look here — you help us, and we’ll catch him sure. two of you run down along the wall there, and see that he doesn’t escape from that end, and you sir,” to the third man, “go back to the main entrance and tell the sergeant you’ll see there exactly what you’ve told us — that an unknown man’s gone into the vice-regal garden. be quick — don’t make a noise now; we’ll wait here in case he tries to bolt back the same way he came, which he probably will do.”

off went the three men as they were bid, and the policemen were left alone. they propped their bicycles against a tree and crept stealthily to the corner angle of the wall.

“not a sound, billy,” i heard one say. “he’ll be somewhere close here. if he hears nothing maybe he’ll pop over again. he knows he can’t get away inside.”

they knelt down under the ivy and craning their necks out cautiously, expectantly regarded the long length of wall that lay round the corner.

their backs were now turned to me, and i didn’t hesitate a second. i dropped softly down from the wall, landing without a sound in the flower bed just underneath.

for a moment i lay prone, and then finding my descent had passed quite unnoted, wriggled slowly and softly towards the tree, against which the two bicycles were still leaning.

i tried to make out which was the smaller one, but in the dark they seemed both about the same size, and i had to chance not being able to ride the one i was going to select. lying flat on my stomach, i reached out and felt for the valve caps of the one i was going to leave. they were dreadfully hard to turn and it seemed ages before i at last heard the gentle hissing of the air escaping from the tyres.

to make doubly sure, i reached up to the wallet just below the saddle, and abstracting an adjustable wrench, thoroughly loosened the nuts holding the front wheel into the fork.

then i rose up suddenly and, still without a sound, started to trundle the other bicycle along the stretch of grass running down alongside the path.

i counted on getting at least fifty yards start before i should be noticed, and i was not far wrong. indeed, i might have sneaked off altogether, if it had not been for kicking against a stone.

i knew instantly they had heard me, for there was a shout and a damn, followed by a scuttling over the gravel path; the sound of a bicycle falling down and then — more damns.

but i had leaped on to the machine i had taken and was flying for my life back along the road where i had been chased. no one came after me. there was apparently no pursuit at all; i had evidently put the other bicycle clean out of action. i could not have wished for a luckier or more easy escape.

having gone about half a mile, i turned off into a by-road and put out my light. then i made off towards home, as quick as i could. i was twice challenged that night, but, happily, both times i had got well by my challengers, before they had caught sight of me, and as they were both times on foot, i, of course, got easily away again.

about a mile from home i knew of a long disused gravel pit, at the back of a small wood. hardly anyone ever went there because it was supposed to be infested with snakes. at the bottom it was covered with a rank undergrowth that had been undisturbed for years. i chanced the snakes and cautiously carrying the bicycle down over the rather steep side, hid it carefully where i should easily be able to find it again. i had thought, when riding home, that it might come in useful on future occasions.

the next day all sorts of rumors were going about the city. the governor had been attacked — an attempt had been made to get at his two children — a policeman had been killed in government house — the murderer had been chased in the garden, &c.

there were many contradictions and explanations in the course of the afternoon, and most of the incidents that had been reported were later strenuously denied. but stripped of all gossip and exaggeration, at bottom, it was clear something had happened at government house and the public were profoundly moved.

that the assassin should have had the audacity to penetrate into the vice-regal garden, and, moreover, that having done so and his presence having become known, he should have been able to baffle and defy the police, struck the public significantly as a very terrible and incomprehensible thing.

the whole police organisation must be rotten, they said, and once and for all, special constables must be sworn in.

pressure was brought on the government from all sides, the governor himself was reported as having vigorously spoken his own mind, and, in the end the authorities gave way.

at first they spitefully intended altogether to ignore our organisation, and just published a bare announcement that special constables would be sworn in in the usual way with no reference at all to the vigilance societies that already existed.

but i wasn’t having anything like that.

at once i got our head-quarters committee together and a great public meeting was arranged for the next night. we invited representatives of the government, of the city council, and of the police authorities to be present, and i publicly stated pertinently that reasons must be forthcoming from them why our organisation should not be adopted en bloc.

in view of the state of public opinion, they all thought it wise to accept the invitation, and, when evening came, the platform was crowded with the big-wigs of the city and the state. the premier came in person, and the lord mayor and a fair sprinkling of the alderman and councillors were also there, and last, but not least, major young, the chief commissioner of the adelaide police.

i was introduced to the last just before the meeting opened. he was a fine, tall, good-looking man and gave me a careless, but very politely frigid bow. i knew that he credited much of the ill-favor in which the police undoubtedly then were to the remarks i had been continually making about them.

i didn’t know whether our guests by turning up in force expected to take a rise out of me, but if they did they were very much mistaken.

i was in the chair and i never for one moment let any of them forget it.

i rose to a storm of cheers and opened my remarks at once by saying i was quite sure the great audience then before me had not been gathered together in any spirit of antagonism to one another. rather had they come in a friendly spirit of patriotism and loyalty to determine exactly what was the best for the care and safely of the dear city that they all loved so well.

they cheered appreciatively at this, and i went on to describe the peculiar situation that had arisen amongst us. one man — most probably, only one man — was defying the community. he was setting at naught all those laws that they had framed for mutual safety. he was destroying the peace of the city and was making a nightly shambles of our roads and streets. he had been doing it now for over six weeks, and who he was, and where he was, and where he came from, were just as much secrets today as they were when he first started on his ghastly game.

as they were all aware, his cunning had been too great for the police. it was easy, i knew, to blame the police, but we must remember they were being called upon to face very unusual circumstances.

we must not, for a moment, be too hasty in discrediting the great efforts they had undoubtedly made to effect the arrest of the malefactor. but — and here i dropped my voice impressively, and spoke slowly and deliberately — while we must be kind and charitable in our thoughts towards those who were doing their utmost to carry out their appointed duties, at an admittedly very difficult time, we must have no pity whatsoever for any official blindness or red tapeism that refused to take advantage of one single thing that would make for the safety of the city. otherwise, there would be placed round the neck of those willing and anxious to help a halter too heavy and too grievous to be borne.

they cheered enthusiastically here, and i gave them two instances as showing the inability of the police to cope with the present danger, owing to the paucity of their numbers. the first, when policeman holthusen was killed on the park lands, and the second, only two nights gone, when the unknown man escaped, so easily, from the vice-regal gardens.

“policeman holthusen, gentlemen,” i cried, “died almost in his comrades’ arms, and the assassin, surprised and seen, seen, mark you, escaped without the very slightest difficulty through what should have been one of the most carefully guarded suburbs of the city; and that with lights flashing and with whistles blowing for assistance in all directions. then the night before last — what do we have here? an unknown prowler, hiding and disturbed in a main road garden in st. peters, is chased for upwards of a mile by three unofficial pursuers.

“the fugitive runs for safety, not towards lonely parklands, not towards the outskirts of the city — but right to the very heart of the city itself, just as if he were sure of there shaking off his pursuers. well — after running as i say for over a mile — he sees two policemen coming up on bicycles, and is, no doubt, considerably surprised by their totally unexpected appearance”— the hall rocked with laughter here —“he climbs over, and takes refuge in the governor’s garden. the police confer with the man’s pursuers and learn from them where he has gone, and take all the immediate measures possible to them to apprehend him. well, what was the result? not only did they fail to catch him, but he actually borrowed one of the policemen’s bicycles and went off without, i believe, even condescending to say good-night.

“now, gentlemen, north terrace is one of the few places that is not under the protection of our vigilance patrols. we have always understood government house and its immediate neighborhood to be so strongly guarded as to render it quite unnecessary for us to take them under our special control. had we done so, however, last night’s happening would have been quite impossible. the instant the first whistle sounded it would have been picked up in every direction by our patrols and a cordon would have been at once formed.

“of course, we do not know who was this unknown man who climbed so quickly in and out of the vice-regal garden. he may have been only an ordinary harmless pedestrian, frightened for the moment out of his wits and common sense. i say he may have been, but from the cunning of his movements, from his resource — do you know he actually stopped to let the wind out of the tyres of the other bicycle, before mounting the one he got away with — and from his general reckless disregard of danger, i am strongly of opinion that the man who got away last night is the very man we have been looking for all these weeks.”

i went on, that with dangers such as now threatened us it was indisputable that we had not enough police. some of us had recognised it weeks ago — officialdom was recognising it today.

they asked us now for special constables and the whole question was in a nutshell.

were the authorities to obtain these special constables from the single and spasmodic swearing in of individuals, a proceeding that might entail days and weeks of delay, or were they to take advantage of an already highly organised body and obtain all that they required in a single minute and by a single sweep of the pen?

surely we deserve some consideration and some thanks from the authorities — nay, more — surely we deserve some honor and some respect, too. for had we not anticipated, by at least a month, the tardy movement they were now making today?

instead of asking generally for special constables, the more statesmanlike and dignified proceeding on the part of the authorities would have been to have taken over the vigilance society en bloc and so give us at once the official status we had been asking for all these weeks. and it would be no favor they would be granting us either. we should be turning over to them a going concern — an organisation that had been tested and in whose structure every man was dovetailed. we had no misfits amongst us.

i spoke for about twenty minutes, and there was no question, but that i carried the entire meeting with me. indeed, they cheered for so long that at last i had to stand up and appeal for silence.

the premier was the next to speak. he was an old parliamentary hand and a suave, cynical master of craft. never, perhaps, were his powers shown to greater advantage than in his reply to me.

an election was shortly coming on; it was necessary to keep every vote for his side, and he saw unmistakably the direction in which public opinion was set. so he just drifted along with the current, as if all the time that had been the one precise direction in which he had intended to go. he agreed entirely with me that they had better take over the existing organisation we had formed. obviously, it was the only thing to do, and if that were the sole reason for calling the meeting tonight then — shrugging his shoulders — we might just as well not have called it at all. a word, either in his ear, or in the ear of the chief commissioner of the police, would have been quite sufficient. at the same time — and here he smiled and bowed most politely to me — if the meeting had not been called, speaking for himself, he would have missed one of the greatest treats of oratory he had enjoyed for a long time. he only wondered where i had been hiding the great gifts that i undoubtedly possessed in so remarkable a degree.

as i say, the premier’s speech was a very crafty one, but it gave as all we wanted and put the meeting on excellent terms with itself.

two other speakers followed, and then someone called for the chief commissioner of the police. the chief had been sitting the whole time, as if very bored, crossing and uncrossing his legs, and continually taking out his watch to look at the time. apparently he was not over-anxious to speak, for at first he smiled coldly and shook his head, when the audience asked for him.

but the calls becoming more insistent and the premier leaning round and whispering something, he came forward to comply with the request.

now he was no fool; anyone could see that by looking at him, and his speech was quite a little model, in its way.

he said he was a soldier, and a policeman, and always averse to talking about his work. just now, his work was very unpleasant and he was quite aware he was most unpopular. but then, policemen were always unpopular, it was just part of their calling to be unpopular. one-half of the world was always wanting the other half to be locked up, and they offended some people when they took them up and offended others when they didn’t. they were in for a bad time, anyway. if things were going all right, people looked upon them as unnecessary and a needless expense. if things went wrong, everybody blamed them and asked, “what the devil are the police doing?”

speaking for himself, if anyone wanted to take on his job they were welcome to. he got more kicks than halfpence every day. as to the vigilance societies, he should be most happy to have them to work under him, but — here he squared his jaw and looked very sternly at me — anybody who was sworn in as a special constable would have to sink his individuality and be amenable to discipline in the usual way. let them, please, remember that.

he resumed his seat without having made many friends, but he left behind him the impression of being a strong and capable man.

i met him next day at luncheon at government house. i learned afterwards that the governor had purposely arranged the meeting in order to soften down any antagonism there might be between us. there was also present sir bartle elkin — the great mental expert — perhaps the greatest authority on diseases of the mind that the commonwealth has ever produced. he was a long-faced, lean, clean-shaven man with the abstract dreamy look that is so often seen on the faces of those placed over the care of the insane. our main topic of conversation was, of course, the terror that was hanging over the city, and i enjoyed the discussion in a strange, impersonal sort of way.

the governor asked me presently, if i had formed any decided opinions as to the kind of man the malefactor was.

i hesitated for a moment, and he went on smilingly.

“come, mr. wacks, you must surely have some idea in your own mind as to the personality of the man against whom you have built up that fine organization of yours.”

“well, sir,” i replied cautiously, “i regard him, as i suppose we all do, as a madman of a kind.”

“what do you mean ‘of a kind’?”

“well, he can’t be mad always, he can’t carry about him any sign of his madness, for instance, or he would have been spotted long ago.”

“exactly, mr. wacks,” broke in sir bartle, “and that’s where our difficulty lies. probably if the man were here with us at this table today, he would be just like you and me, or our friend here, the chief commissioner of the police. no one would possibly be able to certify him as insane.”

“i have often mildly speculated too, sir bartle,” i continued coolly, “as to whether, indeed, he might not be a member of my own troop.”

“most possibly so, mr. wacks,” smiled back the great specialist thoughtfully, “indeed, you yourself might be he. in fact, and i know you won’t mind my saying so — to me, as a mental student, you yourself exhibit many of the characteristics that this gentleman who is so troubling us today must possess.”

“oh, come, doctor,” interrupted the governor laughingly, “i can’t have you putting down all the trouble to mr. wacks — at my own table, too.”

“no, no, not for a moment, my lord — i didn’t say that. what i meant was — our friend here has shown himself to be suddenly the possessor of characteristics as totally unexpected as all the characteristics of the man we are looking for. an unknown quantity a few weeks ago, today mr. wacks is easily the second most interesting personality in the state. i was at the meeting last night, and it struck me then that exactly as some unknown force acting on the mentality of one man has given us a secret, a hidden criminal, so another unknown force acting on the mentality of another man — in this case mr. peter wacks — has given us a fine organiser and a great orator. i know mr. wacks will forgive me the comparison, but as i say, as a very humble student of the workings of the mind, both men exhibit to me the same wonderful new-born qualities of power — ability and resource. one, of course, using these qualities for the well-being of the community — the other for its harm. you follow me, don’t you, mr. wacks?”

“oh yes,” i assented laughing, “you mean i am under suspicion.”

“not at all — not at all, but you are a surprise to us, just as the other man is, but happily in a very different way.”

“well, it seems to me,” said the commissioner of the police, looking highly amused, “that at any rate i shall have to keep my eye on our friend here.”

we all laughed good naturedly. i felt quite at ease, notwithstanding the dangerous turn the conversation had taken. it didn’t seem to trouble me in the least. as far as i was concerned, they might have been talking about another man.

“what puzzles me,” went on sir bartle meditatively, “what i don’t understand is how the madman has managed to maintain his anonymity for so long. how it is these dreadful bouts of mania, extending for over six weeks now, have not wholly broken down his mind and so betrayed him. in his lucid intervals, he must go back very completely to a state of mental quietness, or his brain must have generally given way long before now.

“then, if he does go back to comparative sanity in the intervals between his paroxysms — what is it that stirs him up again?”

“what are the stimuli that bring him, almost nightly, to a state of mania? is it a drug? i know of nothing that could keep up its effect for so long. it is quite beyond me.”

we were all silent from different motives, and after a few moments the great specialist went on:—

“one thing i do notice now — the violence of his mania seems rather to be fading away.”

“fading away, is it?” growled the chief commissioner. “i haven’t seen any fading away. that affair up at gilberton last sunday was as bad as anything we have had — quite.”

“oh — i was referring, rather, to the frequency of the attacks, not to their violence when they actually occur. look here; it’s just over six weeks since these crimes started and the man has had, say, twenty-seven nights when the moon allowed him to carry on his dreadful work. twenty-seven nights when he could work in darkness, between half-past eight and eleven. i believe all his attacks have taken place between those hours — haven’t they?”

“yes, that’s so,” replied the chief resignedly. “he’s been always most particular to finish in time so that he could catch his tram or his train — confound him.”

“well, in the first fourteen of these favorable nights we hear of him on eleven occasions — in the last thirteen favorable nights, he troubles us upon only seven, and in the last six nights, only twice. you see my point, chief, don’t you?”

“oh, yes, i follow you there, sir bartle, but what do you argue from that?”

“well — i am wondering if by any chance his mania is beginning to exhaust itself, and that after a few days everything may die down, and we may hear nothing more of him. it’s quite possible.”

“do you mean to say,” frowned the chief commissioner, “that he may suddenly subside to normal life again, and that we may hear nothing further of him?”

“quite possible, at any rate for a time, until his mania may perhaps break out again.”

“the saints preserve us!” ejaculated the chief. “i want to live a few years longer. the early grave business is not in my line.”

“well, we ought to know soon now — it will be seven weeks on tuesday since the first manifestation began.

“no it was earlier than that, doctor,” said the chief, shaking his head; “we know now they began on the monday.”

“but surely poor old bentley was killed on the tuesday.”

“yes, but on the monday something else happened.”

we all looked interestedly at the chief. he evidently enjoyed our puzzled looks, for it was quite a minute before he went on.

“yes, mr. wacks, here, didn’t know everything, although i may say frankly that i have been surprised several times by what he does know. what happened on the monday was this. a man in bowden had seven rabbits killed. no — you needn’t laugh. i firmly believe their killing was the work of this same hand.

“someone, in the middle of the night, went into this man’s garden, opened seven rabbit hutches, killed seven rabbits and put them all back, one by one, just as he had found them. we have gone most carefully into the matter and can conceive of no earthly reason for it at all. it was just as insane and purposeless as all these later crimes — and in the manner of its execution, it is quite on all fours with them.”

“this is most interesting, major. i ought to have been told of it before. give me the details most minutely now.”

i sat silent in great astonishment, and for the first time for many weeks there flashed through my mind the possibility that i might be found out. i dropped my eyes to think. i had quite forgotten about boulter and his rabbits, and it positively amazed me that anyone had so wonderfully grasped the significance of their deaths. it must be meadows, of course. i must look after him — lately, i had never given him a thought.

i intently regarded the doctor and the chief as they discussed the matter. how very, very different were their faces, i thought, and yet — and yet i fancied i could see the cold, clear, icy reasoning in them both. the power to push away the lines of thought not wanted, and sink like a plummet to the very bottom rock of facts.

i was a fool, i told myself. they had evidently been throwing a wide net around, and all the time i had never given a thought to the possibilities of what they might drag in. i must be careful.

i went back to the office that afternoon rather depressed. i longed for the time when i could get home and fly again to the paste.

the next day it was, of course, in all the morning papers that sir bartle elkin, the chief commissioner of the police, and i had lunched with the governor at government house. it was very amusing to feel the almost awed respect they now had for me in the office. even the hated waller was subdued in his manner when he spoke to me, and there was always quite a hush when i gave orders or spoke to them. they had really become very proud of me, and, i knew, referred to me outside the office, as “our peter wacks.”

the firm, too, were very pleased with the position i now occupied in the public eye. old mr. winter had had me up to dinner in his big mansion, in the most select part of north adelaide, and his daughter from the first had made quite a fuss of me.

she was a woman of about thirty, and, unused though i was to the ways of her sex, i could not but help noticing the interest she at once took in me. of a strong, independent nature herself — a woman who, in the ordinary way, was not much attracted by men — i must have struck some chord in her that brought out the inherent longing of every woman to be the care and fond desire of some one man.

anyhow, she was most nice to me, and in a tactful friendly way made me feel at once at my ease. there were nine of us at table, and i joined naturally and unrestrainedly in all the talk that went on.

during dinner the conversation happened to turn on chess, and i told them all about captain barker and the many games i had had with him.

a keen looking, hawk-faced man, who, i learned afterwards, was professor of mathematics at the adelaide university, was most interested, and asked me what sort of game the old man played.

“oh,” i replied, “he was in a way a really marvellous player. he had quite a natural genius for the game.”

“and yourself,” queried the professor smiling, “i should say you would be a devout disciple?”

“well, i can play,” i admitted, “but i have met so few really good players that i hardly exactly know my strength.”

“or your weakness,” smiled back the professor. “well, i must give you a game — i rather fancy myself, you know.”

“don’t take him on, mr. wacks,” advised miss winter, shaking her head emphatically. “he’s a very hard nut to crack, and by far the best player here.”

but i felt quite confident, and when, later on in the evening, the professor set out the chessmen, i sat down to the board without any qualms at all.

“if you don’t mind i’ll take first move,” he said, “and, of course, we must play quickly. i just want to get some idea of what your old sea captain’s teaching was worth.”

everyone stood round to watch the game.

he opened at once with a most slashing attack, and in the first few moves boldly made the sacrifice of a pawn. i wasn’t in the slightest degree nonplussed, however, but met his onslaught patiently, and with the perfect confidence of later reprisals. after 10 moves he was thinking harder than i, and after 15 i could feel his attack had weakened right away. he began to hesitate in making his moves, but i was ready always on the instant with my replies.

he looked up soon, and smilingly asked what i thought of the prospects of the game.

“no, don’t hesitate, mr. wacks, give me your honest opinion. remember, i am trying to test your knowledge of the game.”

“well,” i replied bluntly, rather nettled with his patronising air, “you haven’t a chance at all. you are a pawn down, your attack has failed, and in half a dozen moves at most your position will be so cramped that you’ll have to sacrifice a piece to get elbow room.”

he thought for a minute. “quite true — quite true,” he slowly remarked at length. “it’s as you say, i’ll give you this game. now you open, please. perhaps i’ll have better luck this time.”

i opened in exactly the same way as he had done and at once offered the sacrifice of a pawn. he screwed up his face to an amused grimace. “you’re cruel, sir, very cruel,” he remarked; “it’s just like smacking a naughty child.”

he took the pawn, however, and started to follow the line of defence that i had adopted in the previous game. but i varied the attack considerably, and, playing strongly and fearlessly, in a few moves offered the sacrifice of a piece. for a long time he hesitated — so long that old mr. winter banteringly implored him to buck up. then he suddenly whipped off his knight with a jerk, and, leaning back in his chair, looked round complacently as if quite assured that he had at last done a good thing. three moves later however, he had got both his hands on to his forehead, and it was my turn to assume the pose of all things going well.

he didn’t wait very long this time, but looked across to me, with quite a sad smile.

“well, master,” he said with a fine exaggeration of disappointment, “what do you think of the game now?”

“mate in three,” i replied laconically, “or you lose your queen.” he downed his king with a little bow and got up from the table.

“you’re quite a player, mr. wacks,” he said, “a fine player. i don’t deny i’m chagrined a bit, and i confess i feel very humble. i dare say in a match i should give you a better game than i’ve given you now, but still you’re stronger than i in every way. speaking off-hand, i should say you’re quite good enough to play in a masters’ tourney; i know something about the game, too; for five years i took on all comers in sydney.”

miss winter was quite delighted that i had beaten the professor, and in saying good-bye, hoped i should often come up now. she said i must give her some lessons in chess.

a few days later i was called into the private office of the firm, and given the post of general secretary to the company.

it meant a tremendous boost for me, for the salary was nearly three times what i had been receiving in the invoice room.

“we pride ourselves as a firm in being enterprising, wacks,” laughed mr. william, “and it would be hardly up to our principles to keep any gentleman of such organising ability as yours in the lowly position of a clerk in the invoice room.”

when i told lucy that night of what had happened she threw her arms round my neck in delighted surprise.

“oh, peter dear, i’m so happy,” she said. “everything seems so different to me now since you love me. when i wake up in the morning i hear the birds calling to me through the window, and all day long i want to sing. i’m always thinking about you and just longing for the time when i shall be all yours.”

i strained her to me passionately, but somewhere deep down in my subconscious mind there was something stirring that made me feel uneasy, and part afraid. was i beginning to think?