They had followed this narrative with interest, and as they went into breakfast Camden asked:
"If you are not connected with the police, who are you?"
"We are merely here to save a young lady from that villain's clutches," said Reg.
"Then I am glad you came," said Camden, heartily, "for I should never have felt easy if I had been in any way connected with that business."
They sent a wire to Goody and sat down to an appetising breakfast of fried flounders, a dish that an epicure in need of a new sensation for his appetite is recommended to journey to Port Arthur to try. Hal and Reg both did excellent justice to the fare, much to the satisfaction and delight of Mrs. Camden, their landlord's wife. After their repast they decided to take the chance offered them of inspecting the prisons, and asked Camden to procure them a guide.
"There's the very man for you," said Camden, pointing to an old fellow sitting in the bar, whom they at once recognised as the man they had met when entering the Port.
"What's your name, old chap?" asked Hal, going towards him.
"My name is Thomas St. Clair Jones," he answered, with dignity.
"Well, Mr. Thomas St. Clair Jones, have another pint."
"I'm not in the habit of drinking with strangers, but as you are a gentleman like myself, I don't mind," and he graciously handed his pot to be filled.
"Now then, Jones, button up your coat, pull up your breeches, put your hat on straight, and lead the way," said Hal, in an imperious voice. To the surprise of Reg Jones did exactly as he was told, pulled himself together, and obediently led the way out.
"I thought as much," said Hal to his friend. "He's a lag and has been used to obey orders."
The procession halted in front of a dilapidated-looking building, commonly known as the Police Station. In answer to a knock an antiquated sergeant appeared and entrusted Jones with the keys after a whispered colloquy in which one could distinguish the word "halves." Jones preceded them with the keys, but had not gone far when Hal called out to him:
"Say, Jones: what were you sent out for?"
Jones cast a withering glance at the speaker, which softened from indignation to injured innocence in so dramatic a manner that Hal almost felt sorry he had spoken. Then he silently turned and resumed his road to the prisons.