I was puzzled how to proceed, but at length resorted to advertising as the only expedient. In the chief French and Colonial newspapers I caused to be inserted a brief paragraph addressed to "Jean Montbazon, late of Noumea," stating that his companion upon the voyage from New Caledonia to Australia wished particularly to meet him, and giving my address at the Table Bay Hotel, Cape Town, whither I proceeded. Patiently I awaited a reply, but although I had spent a large sum upon the advertisement, it apparently failed to reach the man whose acquaintance I desired to make. For many weeks I remained at the hotel, feeling no desire to return to Johannesburg until I had cleared up the mystery and accounted for my lost identity. Times without number I was tempted to relinquish the effort to trace my past, yet with sheer, dogged perversity, I remained and hoped. At last my patience was rewarded, for one evening, while I was sitting on the balcony of the hotel, enjoying a cigar in the starlight, the waiter brought me a visitor. Judge my dismay when I recognised the face of my secretary. "Well, old fellow," he exclaimed familiarly, "and what means all this confounded mystery?" I sat speechless in amazement. "I saw the advertisement in the _Cape Times_, and, concluding that something was wrong, came down here. What is it?" he continued, sinking lazily into a chair by my side. "The advertisement?" I gasped. "I--I don't understand you." "Your advertisement was addressed to Jean Montbazon, your humble and obedient servant, who shared your lot at La Nouvelle, and who escaped with you." "What?" I cried. "Is that true?" "I think, _mon cher ami_, you must have taken leave of your senses, as madame declares you have. Come, now, what's the matter?" "Are--are you really Jean Montbazon?" "That's my baptismal cognomen, though Fred Norton suits me better just now." "Look here," I said earnestly: "I admit I'm not quite myself; indeed, I have forgotten everything. Tell me how we escaped, and why I am so rich, while you are my secretary."