ig, empty smoking-room, like three small
stage conspirators at the end of a very large robbers' cavern.

One was a short, fat, red-faced man, who looked like a combination of
sea-captain and merchant, and who was the local representative of a big
English steamship company. His connection with the mercantile marine had
earned him his nickname of "The Bo'sun." By his side sat Pinnock, a
lean and bilious-looking solicitor; the third man was an English
globe-trotter, a colourless sort of person, of whom no one took any
particular notice until they learnt that he was the eldest son of a big
Scotch whisky manufacturer, and had L10,000 a year of his own. Then they
suddenly discovered that he was a much smarter fellow than he looked.
The three were evidently waiting for somebody. The "Bo'sun" had a
grievance, and was relieving his mind by speech. He walked up and down
between the smoking-room chairs, brandishing a telegram as he talked,
while the attorney and the globe-trotter lay back on the lounge and
admired his energy.

"I call it a shame," he said, facing round on them suddenly; "I could
have got up to Moss Vale for a day or two, and now old Grant of Kuryong
wires me to meet and entertain a new chum. Just listen to this: 'Young
Carew, friend of mine, on Carthaginia. Will you meet him and show him
round; oblige me--W. G. Grant.' I met the old fellow once or twice at
dinner, when he was in town for the sheep sales, and on the strength of
that he foists an unknown callow new chum on to me. People are always
doing that kind of thing."

"Leave his friend alone, then," said Pinnock; "don't have anything to
do with him. I know his sort--Government House young man the first week,
Coffee Palace at two shillings a night the second week, boiler on the
wharf the third week, Central Police Court the fourth week, and then
exit so far as all decent people are concerned."

The Bo'sun stuffed the telegram into his pocket and sat down.

"Oh, I don't suppose he'll be so bad," he said. "I've asked him here
to-night to see what he's like, and if he's no good I'll drop him. It's
the principle I object to. Country people are always at this sort of
thing. They'd ask me to meet an Alderney bull and entertain him till
they send for him. What am I to do with an unknown new chum? I'd sooner
have an Alderney bull--he'd be easier to arrange for. He'd stop where he
was put, anyhow."

Here Gillespie, the globe-trotter, cut into the conversation. "I