it flared a little and then blew out. As he did so a boat shot out of the darkness to port. He struck a second, and then a third. As the last one burned up and then died out, the man rowing the boat I have just referred to struck a light, then another, then another, in rapid succession. Having done so, he took up his oars and propelled his boat towards us. When he was within talking distance he said in a gruff voice: "Is Mr. Wetherell aboard?"
To which my companion answered immediately, not however without a tremble in his voice, "Yes, here I am!"
"Money all right?"
"Can you see if I hold it up?" asked Mr. Wetherell. As he did so a long black boat came into sight on the other side of our questioner and pulled slowly towards him. I had no doubt at all that it was the police boat.
"No, I don't want to see," said the voice again. "But this is the message I was to give you. Pull in towards Circular Quay and find the Maid of the Mist barque. Go aboard her and take your money down into the cuddy. There you'll get your answer."
"Nothing more to say?" Mr. Wetherell cried.
"That's all I was told," answered the man, and then cried, "Goodnight."
At the same moment the police boat pulled up along side him and made fast. I saw a dark figure enter his boat, and next moment the glare of a lantern fell upon the man's face. I picked up my oars and pulled over to them, getting there just in time to hear the inspector ask the man his name.
"James Burbidge," was the man's reply. "I don't know as how you've got anything against me. I'm a licensed waterman, I am."
