Within an hour and a half of our setting foot ashore in Thursday Island from the schooner, we were on board the mail-boat en route for Brisbane and the South. It was a glorious evening, and the beauty of the scenery as one approaches and enters the famous Albany Pass is, I am prepared to say, second to none in the maritime world. I am afraid, however, on this particular occasion our thoughts were too much occupied with the chase we were engaged in, and the news we had so lately received, for us to be able to give very much attention to anything else. Our quarry had had a good week's start of us, and it was just possible in that time he might have found an opportunity of giving us the slip altogether. But he was not going to do so if I could help it. For some reason or another, apart from the crime he had committed, I had conceived a violent hatred of the man, and I was fully determined not to let him slip through my fingers and escape to enjoy the fruits of his villainy if it could be prevented.

On reaching Cooktown, our first port of call, and a starting-point of much of the island trade, I informed Mr. Leversidge that it was my intention to go ashore in order to make quite certain that he had not left his vessel there. The old gentleman was not feeling very well that day, and it was with the utmost reluctance that he confessed his inability to accompany me.

"But my absence is of no consequence," he was kind enough to say. "I have the most implicit confidence in you, and I am sure you will make all the necessary inquiries quite as well without me. I have only one request to make, however, and that is, that you come on board again as soon as possible, in order to let me know if you have discovered anything that is likely to be of use to us. You can imagine how impatient I shall be to hear your news."

"I won't be an instant longer than I can help," I answered. "As soon as I have made the necessary inquiries, I'll return."

Then bidding him good-bye, I made my way ashore and up the one long and dusty street which constitutes the business portion of Cooktown. The first thing to be done was to visit the office of the steamship company's agent to endeavour to find out whether they could tell me anything concerning the Reverend Colway-Brown. This, it appeared, the agent was quite unable to do. He had seen the gentleman in question on board the vessel, he told me, but beyond having congratulated him on his marvellous escape, he had no further conversation with him. Somewhat disappointed at the meagreness of his information, I left him, and went on up the street, intending to make inquiries at an hotel kept by an old diving acquaintance, who, I felt sure, would have made it his business to see the man in question had he come ashore.

Reaching the house, I entered it, to find my old mate sitting behind the bar, reading a sporting article from the Australasian to a man who was lounging on a bench near the door smoking a cigar.

On seeing me, he sprang to his feet, and, seizing my hand, shook it until I began to think he was never going to let it go again.

"Dick Collon, by all that's glorious!" he cried. "Well, who'd have thought of seeing you down here again! I was told you had given up these waters altogether. What brings you to Cooktown?"

"Can't you see?" I answered. "Don't I look as if I needed a change of air?"

"Change of air be hanged!" he replied, with a laugh. "You never needed such a thing in your life. Is there any one with you?"

"Only an old chap from England," I said; "I am showing him the beauties of Australia."

"What's his name?"

"Leversidge," I replied. "He's a little under the weather to-day, or I'd have brought him along with me. He's out here looking for a man—the chap, in fact, who escaped from the Monarch of Macedonia, the Reverend Colway-Brown."

"The deuce he is! And can't he find him?"

"He hasn't done so yet. It was to discover if you could tell us whether he came ashore here that brought me up to see you."

"I'm sorry I can't help you, old man; but what does he want to see him about? That's, of course, if it isn't private business."

"He wants to find out what the parson can tell him about a friend who went down in the boat from which he was so lucky as to escape—that's all."

"Well, I'm only sorry I can't help you," he said, but with a little hesitation that I did not fail to notice. "And now tell me more about yourself. Remember, it's ages since last we met."

We chatted for a while together about old days. Then the man who had been smoking near the door joined us in a drink, and after a little more talk about horse-racing and things in general I said I must be getting back to my boat. On hearing that I intended walking towards the harbour, the bookmaker-looking party, who had thrust himself upon us, decided to accompany me, and while we were upon the way was so good as to offer to show me, for a consideration, a number of excellent means of making a fortune upon the Australian turf. To his mortification, however, we parted, without my deciding to avail myself of his assistance.

Upon my informing Mr. Leversidge, when I reached his cabin, of the success I had met with, we unitedly came to the conclusion that our man had not left the boat in Cooktown, as we had thought possible, but must have continued his voyage in her towards a more southern port. On hearing, however, that our departure would be delayed for at least a couple of hours, I determined to go ashore again for another stroll. Eventually I found myself once more in my old mate's house. He received me with great hilarity, and it soon became evident that during my absence he had been sampling his own wares to considerable purpose. The bar was crowded, and when I entered it was plain that he had been retailing some good jest, for the laughter that followed was long and uproarious.

"Come in, old lad," he cried on seeing me. "You're the very man we want, for we were just talking of you. The boys here want to shake you by the hand."

Wondering what the joke could be, and thinking it behoved me to find out, I complied with his request.

"I don't know when I've laughed so much," began my friend, as he poured me out some whisky. "And I'll bet all I'm worth, you never as much as suspected, did you now?"

"Never suspected what?" I asked, rather sharply, finding my temper rising at the grins I saw upon the faces round me. "Out with it, old man; let me know what the joke is."

"Well, it's a good one, you may be sure of that," he answered. "There you were hob-nobbing together as thick as thieves. 'Ptarmigan's the horse,' says he. 'I'm not so sure,' say you. 'I'll back him against your choice for a fiver,' says he. But you weren't on. And all the time you never suspected for an instant that he was neither more nor less than the very man you were inquiring about this afternoon, the chap who escaped from the Monarch of Macedonia a few weeks back."

"What?" I cried, scarcely able to believe that I heard aright. "Do you mean to tell me that that seedy old beggar who talked so much about horse-racing and walked with me to the harbour side was the Reverend Colway-Brown, the man I asked you about?"

"The very man," he answered, and as he did so he brought his hand down with a smack upon my shoulder. "I can tell you, Dick, I nearly burst my sides with laughing when I saw you two jabbering away together."

Seeing how I had been taken in, the crowd in the bar thought fit to laugh. But when I ran my eye over them they changed their minds and looked another way. I was so angry, I could have thrashed Donovan for the trick he had played me. It didn't take him long, however, to see I was annoyed.

"Come, come, Dick, old man," he said, "you mustn't be angry with me. I couldn't do anything else. He spent a week in my house here, you see, and was uncommon free with his money. What's more, when he came to me, he told me he didn't want it to be known that he was the man who escaped, as everybody stared at him so. For this reason he changed his name, and I promised I'd not give him away to anybody, so I couldn't, even to you."

"It's plain I've been had, and badly too," I said angrily. "You've spoiled a rare good bit of business for me, and I don't take it kindly of you, Jim. Where is the fellow now?"

"Aboard the schooner Friendship," he answered, "lying alongside your own boat. He's left my house now, so I don't mind telling you that. But you will have to look sharp if you want to catch him; he sails to-night."

Without another word I left the place and ran down the street as hard as I could go. I remembered having seen the schooner alongside us when I had left the mail-boat, but when I got there now she was gone. "Where's the schooner that was lying here?" I inquired of some loafers I discovered hanging about the wharf.

"The Friendship, do you mean?" asked one of the men. "Why, there she is, out yonder!"

He pointed to a white sail that was just disappearing round the opposite headland. On seeing that, I clenched my fist with rage, and bestowed the reverse of a blessing upon Jim Donovan. But for his putting me off the scent I might by this time have brought the chase to a successful issue. However, the man was safely out of my clutches now, and no amount of wishing would bring him back again. I dreaded, however, the task of telling old Leversidge how easily I had been taken in.

"Do you know where the schooner is bound for?" I inquired of the man beside me, who had all this time been watching my face.

"For the Gilberts first, and then on to Honolulu," he answered.

I thanked him and then made my way back to the steamer to acquaint my employer with my failure. He heard my tale out to the end, and though I could see he was bitterly disappointed, did not once upbraid me for my stupidity.

"Nonsense, my dear fellow!" he said, in answer to my expression of regret. "You could not help it. You had never seen this Colway-Brown before, so how could you be expected to recognise him, particularly when he took such pains to deceive you? But what do you think is the best thing for us to do?"

"We must get down to Sydney with all speed, and catch a steamer there for Honolulu. With decent luck we should arrive at the island first. In the meantime I'm going to hunt up the owners of the Friendship, and get permission to board their schooner when she arrives. They know me, and I think will grant it."

This I did, and when I had explained my reason, in confidence, to the head of the firm, my request was immediately granted. Armed with a letter to their captain, I returned to the mail-boat, and in less than half an hour we were continuing our voyage to the South. Arriving at Brisbane, we caught the mail train to Sydney, and within five hours of our arrival in the capital of New South Wales were on board the steamer Pride of the Pacific, bound for Honolulu vi Fiji. It was, indeed, a race against time, and the Reverend Colway-Brown, murderer and thief, was the prize.