Oliver Whyte.

About two weeks after Whyte's disappearance Mr. Frettlby gave a dinner
party in honour of his daughter's birthday. It was a delightful
evening, and the wide French windows which led on to the verandah were
open, letting in a gentle breeze from the ocean. Outside there was a
kind of screen of tropical plants, and through the tangle of the boughs
the guests, seated at the table, could just see the waters of the bay
glittering in the pale moonlight. Brian was seated opposite to Madge,
and every now and then he caught a glimpse of her bright face from
behind the fruit and flowers, which stood in the centre of the table.
Mark Frettlby was at the head of the table, and appeared in very good
spirits. His stern features were somewhat relaxed, and he drank more
wine than usual.

The soup had just been removed when some one, who was late, entered
with apologies and took his seat. Some one in this case was Mr. Felix
Rolleston, one of the best known young men in Melbourne. He had an
income of his own, scribbled a little for the papers, was to be seen at
every house of any pretensions in Melbourne, and was always bright,
happy, and full of news. For details of any scandal you were safe in
applying to Felix Rolleston. He knew all that was going on, both at
home and abroad. And his knowledge, if not very accurate, was at least
extensive, while his conversation was piquant, and at times witty.
Calton, one of the leading lawyers of the city, remarked that
"Rolleston put him in mind of what Beaconsfield said of one of the
personages in Lothair, 'He wasn't an intellectual Croesus, but
his pockets were always full of sixpences.'" Be it said in his favour
that Felix was free with his sixpences.