Adam Lind, aged 25, handsome, gay, and to a certain extent clever, was a clerk in the Hibernian Bank, Melbourne, a situation of no great responsibility.

      He received a salary of £100 per annum, and out of this was supposed to eat, drink, pay his landlady, tailor, hatter, and hosier on such economic principles that the balance would amply suffice for the luxuries of life after paying for the necessaries. On the munificent income of, say, £2 a week these liabilities could hardly be discharged, so with the best intentions in the world Adam Lind soon found himself involved in financial difficulties, from which only the genius of a Rothschild could have extricated him.

      Being in this comfortable position Adam naturally added to his embarrassments by falling in love, but in this case there was method in his apparent madness, for he fell in love with a rich girl.

      The lady in question, by name Letty Darlington, was the only child of a rich Melbourne merchant. The lovers had met at the house of a mutual friend, and Dan Cupid being present the result can easily be guessed. It was a case of love at first sight, and each of these ardent young people made up their experienced minds that life would be a blank without the other.

      When people, no matter of what age, arrive at this stage of insanity argument is useless, and as neither Letty nor Adam confided the state of their minds to a third party no advice could be given, and they dwelt in a fool's paradise of sugar-candy.

      Quoth Adam, "I am poor, but I love you." To which answered worldly-wise Letty, "What matters poverty to honest affection?"

      Clearly these two fools had made up their minds to live on love, for certainly they had no more substantial hope of sustenance.

      Adam, however, had a glimmer of common sense — not much, but still a glimmer — and he knew that an impecunious bank clerk could hardly have the impertinence to ask a wealthy man for his daughter's hand, seeing he could give nothing in return save honest affection, which is not a marketable commodity.

      It was then that Adam felt like Tantalus — he was in a bank in an atmosphere of money — gold and silver and pieces of paper representing gold and silver were all around him, yet he could not take it for his own. The wherewithal of wealth by which he could hope to secure his Letty dangled temptingly before him, yet he dare not stretch out his hand and take it. Dare not! What a word for a lover! Alas! being a lover he was not wise, not being wise he was foolish, and logically being foolish he made an ass of himself by taking money which was not his own, and speculating. Speculation being risky he failed, and behold the result — Adam Lind, lover and idiot, has to replace £300, with no chance of doing so.

      What a situation for a romantic man! Now, in Arcady, for instance — but, then, we don't live in Arcady — therein lies the whole problem of crime.

      When a man is in trouble let him always go to a woman for advice.

      Why? Because women, having a natural instinct of cunning, akin to that of a fox, can see their way out of a difficulty sooner than a man; therefore, Adam, dull-brained and harassed, seeing no way out of his predicament, went straightway to St. Kilda to confide his troubles to Letty.

      Max Darlington, Letty's father, was the possessor of a charming house in St. Kilda, and having such a house, plenty of money, and a social soul — the last being most requisite for genial hospitality — gave capital dinner parties, and on this special night, when poor Adam wanted to confide his follies to the woman who loved him, her father was giving a dinner to which Adam had been invited.

      He arrived accurately attired in evening dress with a pleasant smile and a gay manner, all a mask, poor soul, for the hell which raged within him. Within a week he would have to replace the stolen money, or face a judge and jury — horrible alternative, and yet he was obliged to smile and smirk blandly to hide the mental agonies which his crime was causing him.

      Max Darlington, tall, stately, and wonderfully purse-proud, received Adam with courtesy, suave and smiling, never thinking that this young man had dared to raise his eyes to the daughter of a merchant prince, and that one himself.

      Letty was delightful on this night — fair haired, dark eyed, and vivacious — shallow as far as requirements go, for she was not a Girton girl, but wonderfully sharp in worldly matters. Not of the Portico or Athenian groves was the wisdom of Miss Letty Darlington, but she had a shrewd nineteenth-century feminine knowledge, calculated to steer her course admirably through life.

      Adam did not enjoy this dinner — how could he, when from the soup to the dessert Letty was monopolised by a dark-haired seaman, who was the captain of a ship then lying at Williamstown. He was very attentive to Letty; and she, alas for the constancy of the female sex, seemed rather to like it.

      Adam was very angry; this sailor captain, William Francis by name, was handsome, though very haggard looking, probably due to dissipation, and he seemed to admire Letty. No man likes another to poach on his preserves, so poor Adam waxed very wrath at this son of Neptune.

      After dinner came his reward.

      The ladies retired to the drawing room, Letty throwing a bright glance to Adam as if to console him for social neglect, and as the gentlemen were chatting over their wine, Adam placed his chair next to Captain Francis and commenced to talk; an attention which that gentleman seemed in no wise to relish.

      "What is the name of your ship!" asked Adam, fingering his cigarette.

      "The Pretty Jane," replied the sailor, in rather a surly tone.

      "London to Melbourne?"

      "With variations to New Zealand."

      "I suppose you have a largo crew?" questioned Lind.

      The captain looked fierce.

      "Yes!" he replied shortly.

      "Sailors run away sometimes?" remarked Adam, with a view to keeping the ball rolling.

      The effect was peculiar, inasmuch as the captain turned pale, then, recovering himself with a great effort, laughed somewhat uneasily.

      "Sometimes," he assented; "in fact, one of my men, a Swede, Peter Jensen, left me yesterday, and I can't get him again — I wish I could; I'd make an example of him."

      "I'm sure I hope you will find him," said Adam, politely, and shortly afterwards they joined the ladies.

      In the drawing room — babies and scandal. Letty being a maid only conversed on the latter subject; but not liking the topic, returned to the piano and the "Lieder Ohne Wörte."

      This is not calculated to entertain one's guests, but with scandal and babies Mendelssohn is superfluous. Consequently Letty's guests were not bored. The gentlemen entering the drawing room were received with a sigh of relief by the ladies, scandal and babies both being played out — wonderful to relate — as the former is eternal.

      Captain Francis made straight for the piano and Letty.

      Woman's cunning again!

      She took the arm of Adam, who happened to be conveniently near, and smiling an apology on the dissatisfied captain, the artful Letty and the gratified Adam went off to the conservatory.

      Flirtation and soft nothings.

      No, quite the opposite.

      Serious business on Adam's part — later on — on Letty's. Then said Letty, not suspecting trouble, "You seem dull to-night, Adam, what is the matter?" After this came the deluge — a woman statuesque and pale, seated under, the green leaves of a palm, and an excited man striding up and down and talking rapidly in a low voice.

      "I'm a fool my God, what a fool? I love you, Letty, more than I can tell you — believe me or not, as you please. I am poor. You are rich. I thought and still think your father would not receive me as his son-in-law, and I was anxious to make money. I speculated and lost — lost — all — all."

      Not tears exactly, but very near.

      "But if you have lost the money you will soon get it again. You can at present live on your salary, and later on get your money back again."

      He laughed bitterly.

      "My money — no — you do not in the purity of your soul — understand — my money — no — it was not mine — it was the bank's."

      Strong drama.

      "What do you say?"

      "I have taken three hundred pounds."

      "From the bank funds?"

      "Yes."

      "You were in a position of trust and you abused it?"

      "God help me, I did — to win you."

      The reservation was flattering to a woman's vanity.

      "You despise me," said Adam.

      "No. God forbid I should do so — I know you yielded in a moment of temptation. We are all weak when the trial comes, but — but —"

      "I must save you."

      "Impossible how?"

      "By replacing this money."

      "You cannot."

      "I can — the manager of the Hibernian Bank is a friend of my father's, and of mine. I will pay this money back to him, and you will be saved."

      "Letty! Letty — I cannot accept this sacrifice."

      "It is no sacrifice — I love you; and what is money to me compared with the happiness of my life?"

      "You despise me."

      "Let him who can cast the first stone have the right to despise you — not me — not me."

      "Good-bye, Letty," kissing her violently.

      "Where are you going?"

      "Anywhere."

      "Stop, or I will alarm the house."

      "Good-bye."

      Adam disappeared out of the window of the conservatory, and Letty fell back in her chair in a dead faint.

---

      Letty acted with promptitude and decision.

      She had by some means to procure a large sum of money, and did not like to ask her father, as he would then find out Adam's folly.

      Here was a dilemma, but Letty's wit came to the rescue, so she went straight to the manager and told him all.

      As might have been expected, he wanted to dismiss Adam at once ; but Letty dissuaded him from this course. Then the manager pointed out to her how foolish it would be for her to marry such a man, to which replied Letty —

      "I love him, and I'll marry him, whatever he may do."

      "But this is folly."

      "No doubt, did I not know that Adam was guilty in a moment of weakness. And if you replace this money, and condone the past, he will never do it again."

      Arguments, persuasion, threats, were all thrown away on this intractable girl, so at last the manager gave in, and told Letty he would arrange to pay the money. This was rather a risky thing for him to do, for it was tantamount to compounding a felony. At all events, he agreed to do it, and Letty went away satisfied that Adam was saved from the consequences of his folly. She had not seen him since the previous night, so drove to his lodgings, thinking he was ill as he had not been at the bank that morning.

      Most extraordinary! Adam had not been home all night, and Mrs. Megs, his landlady, said she had not seen him since he left on the previous evening for St. Kilda.

      Letty began to suspect something wrong, as his demeanour when he left her in the conservatory was not reassuring.

      Inquiries were made in all directions, and in a very short space of time the disappearance of Adam Lind was the universal topic of conversation.

      Then a discovery was made.

      Some boys playing on the beach at St. Kilda found the body of Adam Lind with his face mutilated so as to be wholly unrecognisable. Identified by the clothes he wore, and some papers in his pocket.

      Suicide or murder?

      Some people inclined to the former idea, but most to the latter. All the money and jewellery of the deceased had been taken, so that the general opinion was that after leaving Letty, Adam had walked down to the pier to refresh himself, and had been waylaid and murdered.

      The affair caused a great sensation, and Letty became very ill. She also was the heroine of the hour, owing to her connection with the unlucky Adam, ad her portrait was in great demand.

      Max Darlington learned all the facts of the case connected with Adam's crime, and congratulated himself that he was now rid of such an undesirable son-in-law. No one else, however, knew of the embezzlement, as the manager, true to his promise, had replaced the money, and the whole affair had been quietly settled.

      When Letty recovered again she had a fixed purpose in her life — namely, to hunt down Adam's murderer, but the difficulty was to find him. She, however, determined to do her best, and although her father tried to dissuade her she interviewed a detective and gave him her orders about the matter.

      With a determined woman on his track it seemed impossible that the murderer of Adam Lind would successfully effect his escape. It was now three weeks since the finding of the body, so there had been plenty of time for the assassin to get away; but seeing nothing definite had been discovered it was more than probable that he had remained quiescent in Melbourne instead of betraying himself by flight.

      The detective, whose name was Wilks, found out that a man, evidently from his clothes a sailor, had been seen leaving the pier on the night in question, so Letty asked Captain Francis if he could help her in any way.

      "I am afraid I cannot," replied the Captain, "as I don't know all the sailors in Melbourne, and, besides, this man may not have been a sailor at all."

      "I thought one of the sailors of your vessel ran away a few weeks ago," observed Letty, shrewdly.

      "Oh, yes," replied Francis, indifferently. "A Swede, Peter Jensen, but though he was quarrelsome enough in all conscience, I hardly think he would commit a crime."

      Letty thought a moment.

      "If this sailor left your ship," she said, "he must have been hard up, and, perhaps, followed you here to our house on that night to ask you to take him back. If so, when he was lurking outside, he must have seen Adam leave the house, and committed the crime in order to get money."

      "A very admirable theory, but hardly probable," said the Captain with an effort, "but you had better look for this sailor. I'll give you his description."

      He did so, but, in spite of all efforts, no traces could be found of him, until at last Wilks discovered a slight clue.

      Thinking the sailor might have pawned some of his ill-gotten gains, Wilks went a round of the pawnshops, and found a ring which he recognised as one described by Letty as having been given by her to the deceased.

      The pawnbroker said it had been pawned a week previous by a rough-looking man with a light beard. He seemed very poor, and would probably come again, so Wilks watched the shop night and day. His patience was rewarded, for the man came to pawn a watch, and was arrested at once by the detective. He made a struggle to escape, and seemed greatly agitated, but the watch being recognised as one belonging to the dead man, his protestations of innocence were totally disregarded, and he was lodged in prison.

      Letty went to see the man who had killed her lover, and her soul was filled with an unholy joy at the achievement of her purpose.

      He was a tall, slender man, with a thick yellow beard, and he turned away his head as Letty entered the cell. She said nothing, and was turning away, when the man stepped forward with a cry, and, pulling off a false beard, turned his face to the light.

      With a shriek the unhappy girl fell to the floor in a faint.

      It was Adam Lind himself.

---

      This terrible drama was becoming more mysterious every day. Adam explained that, thinking he would be arrested for the embezzlement of which he had been guilty, he went down down to the pier at St. Kilda with the intention of drowning himself, and found on the beach the body of a man dressed in sailor's clothes, with his head fearfully mutilated. Thinking he saw a way of escape he changed clothes with the corpse, and, taking his own money and jewellery, fled with the intention of leaving Melbourne and writing to Letty when he was in safety. Soon, however, he saw in the newspapers the full account of the crime, and had been afraid to leave the city, dreading discovery. He pawned his jewellery, and had now been hunted down by the very woman whose fixed purpose it was to avenge his death.

      Letty now saw the terrible position she had unconsciously placed him in, for Adam Lind was formally charged with the murder of the Swedish sailor. Curiously enough it turned out to be the very man of whom Francis had been speaking at the dinner. The name was marked on the clothes Lind had taken from the corpse. So, in trying to escape the charge of embezzlement, the unhappy young man had rendered himself liable to a charge of murder.

      Whilst affairs were in this position Captain Francis asked Letty to marry him, an offer which she refused with scorn.

      "You will not marry me," said Francis, angrily.

      "No, never!"

      "You cannot marry Adam Lind — a murderer."

      "He is no murderer."

      "To all appearance he is," sneered the Captain, "but if I save him, will you marry me?"

      She turned on him quickly.

      "Yes? save his life, and I'll marry you."

      The Captain bowed and departed, upon which Letty, struck by a sudden thought, went to Wilks, and told him all about the Swedish sailor, and the way he had left the ship.

      Her woman's quick instinct suggested an explanation.

      "I believe," said Letty, "that Captain Francis murdered him."

      "Impossible," said the detective; "Captain Francis, according to your own statement, was in your house all the evening."

      This was true enough, but Letty distinctly held to her opinion that Francis had something to do with the death of Peter Jensen.

      Wilks went forthwith to the "Pretty Jane," and made inquiries, the result of which were that appearances looked black against Captain Francis. It appeared he had reprimanded the sailor, who retorted insolently, and that same night the sailor disappeared. Francis stated that he had run away, but it was rumoured amongst the crew that Jensen had fallen overboard, as some of them had heard a splash. No one, however, possessed sufficient evidence to state any case, and the affair seemed as if it would blow over, but for the discovery of Adam Lind in the clothes of the dead man.

      Letty, however, stated her opinion, and some of the papers took her view of the case, the result of which was that Captain Francis, finding things were getting unpleasantly warm, left the place and went off to South America.

      Letty was in despair at her inability to prove the Captain's guilt and Adam's innocence, when she one morning received a packet left for her by the Captain to be delivered a week after his disappearance.

      It was a confession, and it saved Adam's life.

      Captain. Francis stated that the Swede had been drunk and abusive on the day prior to his disappearance, and as the Captain was coming on board at night tried to stab him. Francis struck him with a belaying pin, not intending to kill him, but on finding that he had done so, he threw the body overboard to conceal his crime. It had evidently drifted with the tide over to St. Kilda and was stranded on the beach.

      This confession being made public Adam was released, and shortly afterwards went to England on funds supplied by Max Darlington.

      Did Letty marry him?

      Yes. A year after the events described she became Mrs. Lind, although her father strongly opposed the match.

      But Adam was not worthy of her?

      No! But a woman can see no imperfections in the man she loves.

      So Letty married him, and Max Darlington relented.

      Adam turned out a better husband than was expected, which proved the influence of a good woman's love, and also that his terrible experience had taught him a lesson.