Brandon felt quite certain that Mr. Compton would not know any thing about Cigole’s presence in Sydney unless he himself told him. For the old man was so filled with trouble at the loss of his partner that he could think of nothing else, and all his thoughts were taken up with closing up the concern so as to send forward remittances of money to London as soon as possible. Mr. Compton had arranged for him to draw £2000 on his arrival at London, and three months afterward £3000-£10,000 would be remitted during the following year. Brandon had come to the conclusion to tell Mr. Compton about Cigole before he left, so that if the man remained in the country he might be bribed or otherwise induced to tell what he knew; yet thinking it possible that Cigole had designed to return in the same ship with him, he waited to see how things would turn out. As he could not help associating Cigole in his mind with Potts, so he thought that whichever way he turned this man would try to follow him. His anticipations proved correct. He had taken passage in the ship _Java_, and two days before the vessel left he learned that Cigole had taken his passage in her also, having put on board a considerable quantity of wool. On the whole Brandon felt gratified to hear this, for the close association of a long sea voyage would give him opportunities to test this man, and probe him to the bottom. The thought of danger arising to himself did not enter his mind. He believed that Cigole meant mischief, but had too much confidence in his own powers to fear it. On the 5th of August the ship _Java_ was ready, and Mr. Compton stood on the quarterdeck to bid good-by to Brandon. “God bless you, dear boy! You will find the money coming promptly, and Smithers & Co.’s house is one of the strongest in London. I have brought you a parting gift,” said he, in a low voice. He drew from his pocket a pistol, which in those days was less known than now--indeed, this was the first of its kind which had reached Australia, and Mr. Compton had paid a fabulous price for it. “Here,” said he, “take this to remember me by. They call it a revolver. Here is a box of patent cartridges that go with it. It is from me to you. And mind,” he continued, while there came over his face a vengeful look which Brandon had never seen there before--“mind, if ever you see John Potts, give him one of those patent cartridges, and tell him it is the last gift of a broken-hearted father.” Brandon’s face turned ghastly, and his lips seemed to freeze into a smile of deadly meaning. “God bless you.” cried Compton, “I see by your face that you will do it. Good-by.” He wrung Brandon’s hand hard and left the ship. About six feet away stood Cigole, looking over the stern and smoking a cigar. He was near enough to hear what had been said, but he did not appear to have heard it. Throwing his cigar into the water, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and began whistling a lively air.