'It's my turn! Stop, or I shoot you dead!' The tables were turned, and he had me at his mercy as completely as he had been at mine.

I made up my mind to being marched to the nearest police-station.
But nothing of the kind.

I had misjudged my man as utterly as you misjudged him a few months later aboard the Lady Jermyn.

He took me to his house on the outskirts of Melbourne, a weather-board bungalow, scantily furnished, but comfortable enough.

And there he seriously repeated the proposal he had made me off-hand in the road.