was fast asleep, not to wake until the first gong sounded for breakfast; then, after a good bath, which refreshed me wonderfully, I dressed in my usual habiliments and went downstairs. Mr. Wetherell and the Marquis were in the dining-room, and when I entered both he and the Marquis, who held a copy of the Sydney Morning Herald in his hand, seemed prodigiously excited.
"I say, Mr. Hatteras," said the latter (after I had said 'Good-morning'), "here's an advertisement intended for you!"
"What about?" I asked. "Who wants to advertise for me?"
"Read for yourself," said the Marquis, giving me the paper.
I took it, and glanced down the column to which he referred me until I came to the following:
"Richard Hatteras.—If this should meet the eye of Mr. Richard Hatteras, of Thursday Island, Torres Straits, lately returned from England and believed to be now in Sydney, he is earnestly requested to call at the office of Messrs. Dawson and Gladman, solicitors, Castlereagh Street, where he will hear of something to his advantage."
There could be no doubt at all that I was the person referred to; but what could it all mean? What was there that I could possibly hear to my advantage, save news of Phyllis, and it would be most unlikely that I would learn anything about the movements of the rascally gang who had abducted her, from a firm of first-class solicitors such as, I understood from Mr. Wetherell, Messrs. Dawson and Gladman might be considered. However, it was no use wondering about it, so I dismissed the matter from my mind for the present and took my place at the table. In the middle of the meal
