rogramme, eh?"

"Nice and complete. But I rayther expect the Crown 'Eads'd be one too
many for _you_. The Czar o' Rooshia, f'r instance, I fancy he'd exile
you to Siberia."

"But that'd be agin international law an' all rule an' precedent--I'd
tell 'im I was a British subject born in Australia, and wrap a Union
Jack around me stummick, an' dare 'im to come on. How'd that be for
high?"

"You'd be 'igh enough. You'd be 'anded over to th' British
authorities--they'd see you went 'igh enough. The experience of men of
our perfession is, lie very low, live very quiet, don't attract no
attention whatever--when you've succeeded in makin' your pile. That's
why I say a public: you've a few select pals, the best of liquor, and
just as much excitement as a ordinary man needs. I say that, upon
retirement, for men of our perfession a public's the thing."

"How'd a theayter do?"

"Too noisy an' unrestful, William. An' then think of all the
wimmen--they'd bother a man silly."

"What d'you say to a song and dance 'all?"

"'Tain't so bad. But them places, William, I've always noticed, has a
tendency to grow immoral. Now, a elderly gent, who's on the down-grade
and 'as _'ad_ 'is experiences, don't exactly want _that_. No, I'm dead
set on a public. I think that fills the bill completely."

"But we can't _all_ go into the grog business."

"I don't see why. 'Tain't as if we was a regiment of soldiers. There's
but four of us."

"Oh, well, the liquor's finished. You can make a git, Garstang. But, if
you ask me what I'll do with this pile as soon as it's made, I say I
still have a hankerin' after the Crown Heads. They must be most
interestin' blokes to talk to: you see, they've had such experience.
I'm dead nuts on Crown Heads."

"And they're dead nuts on the 'eads of the likes of you, William.
Good-night."

"So-long, Garstang. Keep good."

And with those words terminated the gathering of the four greatest
rogues who ever were in Timber Town.

CHAPTER XX.

Gold and Roses.

The Pilot's daughter was walking in her garden.

The clematis which shaded the verandah was a rich mass of purple
flowers, where bees sucked their store of honey; the rose bushes, in the
glory of their second blooming, scented the air, while about their roots
grew masses of mignonette.

Along the winding paths the girl walked; a pair of garden scissors in
one hand and a basket in the other. She passed under a latticed arch
over which climbed