MELBOURNE.
After passing a somewhat restless night in the boudoir car they arrived
at Melbourne. Boudoir cars are very comfortable and pleasant places in
their way, but on this particular occasion they did not find it
overwhelmingly pleasant, for their fellow-passengers had their own
peculiar way of amusing themselves. For instance, a Melbournite and a
Sydneyite had to share the same compartment, and any man who has
travelled in Australia knows what that will lead to. It was a new
experience to Reg. Hal, however, found himself fully occupied in closing
his ears to the snores coming from a passenger in the next compartment.
"Talk about Sydney! Why, what have you got to talk about? You've a
decent harbour through no fault of your own, and that's about all you
can boast of," said the man from Melbourne.
"And what have you got? Just open the window, and everybody will know.
_Smellbourne_ is your proper title. I always have to carry disinfectants
with me when I come here. Say, guard, see that those windows are
closed," sang out the man from Sydney.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the other, in retort. "We certainly have not your
natural resources, but what we have we have made ourselves. Look at our
splendid buildings, our streets, our cable tramcars, our prosperous
country."
"Yes, look at them. Where are the men that built them? In gaol. How was
the money to build them obtained? By robbing English capitalists. And
what's the consequences? Why, they are all empty. Fancy, ten thousand
empty houses in a small town like yours."
"And how about your empty houses? Your Parliament House? Bah! It's a
bauble shop. While your members are fighting amongst themselves like
cats and dogs, the country is going to the deuce."
"Guard, please separate those gentlemen," screamed a shrill voice from
the lady's compartment.
"Stop your row, there," shouted the man who had been snoring so loudly,
imagining their quarrel had woke him up, whereas, a kick from Hal had
done it.
"Go to sleep, you fellows, blowing about Sydney and Melbourne. Why, our
little town of Brisbane licks you both hollow," roared a tall man in
pyjamas, jumping on the floor.
"Yes; before the flood," shouted the Sydney man.
"Look here, gentlemen. You will have to make less noise," said the
collector, now appearing on the scene.
Thus it was that they were disturbed all night long and, on the
following morning, things nearly approached a crisis, owing to the
Sydney man ostentatiously producing camphor and eucalyptus and preparing
to scatter them about to kill the noxious germs of Melbourne.
"That is a fair sample from the citizens of the two rival cities of the
South," said Hal. "They are for ever fighting against one another.
Jealousy is no name for the rivalry between them."
"It seems a pitiful waste of energy," answered Reg, strapping up his
rugs, for they were nearing Melbourne; and soon the train ran in to
Spencer Street Station.
Here all was noise and hurly-burly. Porters jostled the passengers and
each other, and flung the luggage about. Cabbies yelled for fares, and
everyone seemed bent on making as much noise and causing as much
inconvenience as possible.
"Thank goodness, that's over," said Reg, when they had safely put
themselves in a hansom. "Talk about London porters. They are not a patch
on these fellows for banging your things about."
"That's true. In Melbourne, old man, everything must go with a rush,"
answered Hal, as the cab pulled up at the entrance to a tremendous
building, some eight stories high.
"Fine place this, Hal."
"Yes, as far as appearances go. It's run on temperance principles, at a
heavy loss every year."
"Who built it then?"
"There's his face on the wall there, somewhere. He's in gaol now, went
with the land-boom when it bust."
"That's why they put his bust up," laughed Reg, dodging the portmanteau
that was flung at him for his atrocious pun.
They booked their rooms on the advance system at the office, and started
for a stroll round the streets of this marvellous city.
"By Jove, Hal," said Reg, pointing to a tall building known as a
sky-scraper; "thirteen stories high. Is the man who built that doing a
term too?"
"No he was too smart. He sold out and got knighted."
"Knighted for building a place like that?"
"Well you see he gave a big cheque to charity, and got it that way."
"Are they as easy to get as that?"
"Rather. One man built a university, and was given a handle to his name.
England loves to encourage that sort of thing. But now to business. I
noticed that girl at the Palace eye us pretty closely."
"We had better enquire, and see if we can hear of anything."
"Time is precious. Let's get back."
"Do you keep a record of all visitors staying here?" asked Hal of the
young lady at the booking office.
"Yes, sir. What name are you enquiring for?"
"A friend of mine named Wyckliffe. Ah, I see you know him"--for he
noticed the lady give a start of surprise.
"There was a gentleman of that name here, but he has gone to Adelaide,"
she answered, in rather a tremulous voice.
"Oh! it doesn't matter. He asked me to enquire for him, if I came to
Melbourne. We have just arrived from Sydney."
"What a shame," said she, quite recovered. "He was expecting some
friends, and said he was going to Adelaide to meet them."
"If you should hear from him, you might say Mr. Thompson was asking for
him," said Hal, carelessly.
"How long are you staying, sir?"
"That all depends how we like the place," said Hal, as he left, followed
by Reg.
"That girl is in it. I'll swear she knows where he is.--Query, how are
we to get it out of her?"
"Where did those gentlemen come from?" asked the lady, of the porter.
"Adelaide express, miss," he answered.
"Are you sure?"
"Certain, miss, for I noticed the ticket on their luggage."
"I fancy they will have to look for him," she said to herself, smiling
grimly.
Hal and Reg had walked as far as Bourke Street, when Hal suddenly turned
to his companion and said:
"What fools we are, Reg. That wire was sent late at night, addressed to
the Palace. We must find out who was on duty at that hour, for that girl
surely would not be." Thereupon they wheeled round, and returned to the
Palace.
"Say, porter; do you keep a night-porter here?" asked Hal, of the man in
livery hanging about the hall.
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know who was on duty the night before last?"
"I was, sir."
"Do you remember a telegram arriving for Mr. Wyckliffe?"
"Well, er, you see, sir--"
"I do see," said Hal, and, by a dexterous move, a half-crown-piece
changed hands.
"Thomas' buildings are not far from here, sir. I'll shew you if you just
step to the door," said the porter, leading the way to the street as he
noticed the girl's eyes on him.
"Enquire at the Gaiety, Bourke Street," he whispered, and hurriedly
withdrew, the happy possessor now of two half-crowns.
"What did those gentlemen want?" asked the lady, when the porter
returned.
"They only wanted to know where Thomas' Buildings was, miss."
"Oh, all right," said she, apparently satisfied.
Hal and Reg lost no time in following up the clue given them, and a
quarter of an hour later found them in one of the many saloons of the
Gaiety Hotel, where they began to take stock of their surroundings. Both
agreed that it had been well-named. Business seemed brisk, and
liveliness and gaiety characterised everybody. They happed to have hit
upon the same saloon that Wyck patronised. Had Hal known this he would
perhaps have been more careful. Two young ladies were in attendance. One
of a very winning appearance; the other rather plain.
"Have you seen Wyck lately?" asked Hal, of the pretty one.
"No, he's gone," said she, colouring to the roots of her hair, and then
appearing annoyed at having spoken.
"Why do you want to know? Who are you?" she asked, in rather an excited
way.
"My name is Thompson. Wyck is a great friend of mine. We came out in the
same boat from London," said Hal, carelessly.
"You are staying at the 'Australian,' are you not?"
"Yes, why?"
"Oh, nothing. I thought I saw you there the other day. Miss Kelley, will
you mind my bar for a few minutes?" and she hurried away.
"You've upset Miss Harris," said the other lady, coming forward.
"I am sorry. It was quite unintentional," said Hal.
"You know she and Wyck are great friends?"
"Well, I heard something about it, but as Wyck is such an outrageous
flirt I did not take much notice of it."
"But they are engaged and going to be married shortly."
"Lucky fellow," answered Hal, with a smile.
"Infernal, lying scoundrel," added Reg, under his breath.
"Miss Harris not in?" asked a rough-looking fellow, putting his head
through the doorway.
"She'll be back directly," answered Miss Kelley.
"Oh, never mind," said the man, disappearing.
"That's Wyck's old cabby," she said to Hal, and Reg, excusing himself,
got up and went outside.
"Is that gentleman your friend?" she asked.
"An acquaintance," he answered. "But you and Miss Harris are not
friends."
"I never said so, sir," said she, shortly.
"No, there's no necessity for that."
"She's a niece of the proprietor."
"I see, and has a lot of privileges which the others don't like."
"Who told you that?" said the girl, in surprise, but not denying the
truth of the statement.
"When did you last see Wyck?" continued Hal.
"Yesterday afternoon. He came in in a very hurried manner, quite
unusual in him, and called Miss Harris aside and held a long confab with
her. He seemed upset, and so was she, for she left the bar, crying, and
did not come back till the evening."
"How long had she known him?"
"That's the funny part of it. She only met him three days before. It
seems to have been a regular case of love at first sight. She is a very
proud and haughty girl, especially to strangers. It was reported once
that a private secretary of the Governor's was going to marry her.
Certainly he used to pay her a lot of attention, but he married an
heiress instead."
"Did she fret then?"
"No, she laughed it off and treated it as a joke."
"Tell me this before I go. Did Wyck say anything to her about a telegram
when he called?"
"Yes, I remember he did, for it was sent on here from the Australian;
but why are you so inquisitive?"
"You won't mention a word of our conversation to Miss Harris, but just
tell me what size gloves you take, and how many buttons."
"Six-and-a-quarter, twelve buttons."
"Thanks! good-bye!" and he left her, well-satisfied with his enquiries.
"I thought you were never coming," said Reg, as they met at the door.
"Short, thick-set man, wearing soft felt hat, black coat, riding
breeches, and top-boots; drives a hansom with a smart grey horse; No.
1246A."
"You could not hear his name, of course?"
"I heard someone call out, 'Good-day, Dick,' as he left. What's the next
move?"
"A fashionable one. Where shall we go--Buckley and Nunn's or Robertson
and Moffat's?"
"What for--gloves?"
"Yes, six and a quarter, and twenty buttons."
"No, surely."
"Twenty did I say? No, the young lady is modest. A dozen will satisfy
her," said Hal, leading the way.
The gloves were bought and posted to Miss Kelley, and Hal told Reg all
about the courtship.
"A proud, haughty girl is what he delights in," said Reg, though he
mentally added that his Amy was not of that character.
"Our next move is to find out Dick's character and his habits, for from
the way she referred to him, I fancy Dick is of some material assistance
to him," said Hal, dodging his way through the crowded thoroughfares.
"We'd better, therefore, find his cab-rank first."
"Can you tell me--" he enquired of the first gentleman he met.
"No, got no time," said the individual addressed, as he bustled away at
the rate of ten miles an hour.
"Where are the cab-ranks?" he asked another.
"Up there, round the corner," replied this one, without stopping, and
being well out of range before Hal had understood his reply.
After trying to extract the information from about a dozen people, he
gave it up, for every man he spoke to seemed to be in a greater hurry
than his fellows. "One continued rush," said Hal, "all day long; each
trying to out-do the others in business, but it all ends in the mushroom
style, for they boom up everything to ten times its value, and when the
relapse comes matters are fifty times worse. That's Melbourne."
After several unsuccessful attempts to find a cab-rank on which was a
hansom with a grey horse, they at last saw one in Swansea Street, but to
their chagrin, before they could get to it, they saw a hansom with a
grey horse and a driver answering to Dick's description drive away.
"That looks like Dick," said Reg, excitedly.
"Here you are, gintlemen, jump in," said the driver of a cab, with a
strong Irish accent, as he brought his vehicle to a standstill alongside
them.
Acting on impulse they jumped in.