"Oh, I'm alright," said Cardo, "only impatient to get on shore. I feel perfectly well. Why, my dear doctor, I have never had a day's illness in my life, as far as I can remember." "I can believe that," said the doctor; "and what a splendid sailor you have been. But still, let me know if you are not feeling well." It was quite true that Cardo had latterly experienced some sensations to which he had hitherto been a stranger--frequent headaches and loss of appetite; but, being of a very hardy temperament, he tried to ignore the unpleasant symptoms, and waited for the end of the quarantine with feverish impatience. When at last they were allowed to land, he was amongst the liveliest and most energetic of the passengers. He drove at once to the Wolfington Hotel, to which he had been recommended by Captain Owen. As he stepped out of the cab, the portico of the hotel seemed strangely at loggerheads with the rest of the building, He managed, however, to get safely inside the hall, and, after engaging a bedroom, followed his conductor up the stairs, though each step seemed to rise to meet his foot in an unaccountable manner. "A long sea voyage doesn't suit me, that's certain," he soliloquised, as he entered the room and busied himself at once with his luggage. He took off the labels with the intention of substituting fresh ones addressed to his uncle's farm, deciding not to stay a day longer than was necessary in Sydney, but to make inquiries at once as to the best way of getting to Broadstone, Priory Valley. He still fought bravely against the feeling of lassitude and nausea which oppressed him, and went down to his lunch with a bold front, although the place seemed floating around him. But in vain did the odour of the Wallaby soup ascend to his nostrils; in vain was the roast fowl spread before him. He scarcely tasted the viands which the attentive waiter continued to press upon him; and at last, pushing his plate away, he rose from the table. "I shall want writing materials and some labels on my return," he said, as he left the room with a somewhat unsteady step. "On the razzle-dazzle last night, I expect," said the waiter, with a wink at his fellow. The fresh air seemed to relieve Cardo, in some degree, of the weight which dragged him down; he was even well enough to notice that the uneven streets were more like those of an old-fashioned English town than anything he had expected to find in Australia. But this feeling of relief did not last long. In the street which led down to the quay he observed a chemist's shop, and, entering it, asked for a "draught or pick-me-up" of some kind. "I feel awfully seedy," he said, sinking into a chair. "Yes, you look it," said the chemist; "what's wrong?" "I think I must give in," said Cardo, "for I believe I am sickening for typhoid fever." The chemist looked grave. "I advise you to go home at once, and to bed."