iv illegant an' rare ideals iv yer own as to what's
good an' becomin' in young persons iv the other sex, haven't ye, dear?'

'No, no, no!' cried Done, shocked to find how easily he had slipped into
the attitude of the common moralist.

'I stand on my merits and my lack of them, Jimmy. There's only one of me
here!' She touched her breast. 'And good, bad, or indifferent, my friends
must take me whole.'

'Whole, then.'

'Wait, boy, you don't know a fifth of it yet.'

'Do your worst, and test my devotion, Aurora. I defy you!' Jim was
getting on.

'Devil doubt you. You're a bold man, Mister Jimmy Done, an' I like your
cheek, for all it's as smooth as my own.' She touched his face
caressingly with her fingers, and turned to serve clamouring customers at
the other end of the counter.

'Good-night, mate,' said a quiet voice at Jim's elbow. Done turned
quickly, and started back a step with some amazement on beholding the
pale, impassive face of the stranger who had attacked Stony at their camp
in the Black Forest. The man was smoking a cigar. He was dressed after
the manner of a successful digger, with a touch of vanity. He regarded
Jim earnestly, and the young man experienced again the peculiar feeling
the first sight of this stranger had provoked.

'Good-night,' he said.

'I see you recollect me.'

'Oh yes. Did Stony quite escape you that night?'

'He did, thank's to you, Done.'

'A man couldn't see murder done under his very nose without stirring a
hand.'

'Don't apologize. I have no grievance. If I had killed him I should have
regretted it more than the death of my dearest friend, although no man
from the time of Cain had better excuse for murder. I suppose you have
not seen the man since?'

'No!' answered Jim with emphasis.

'Meaning that you would not tell me if you had. You need not fear being
an accessory before the act. I want Stony alive, Mr. Done.'

'Mister Done!' Jim laughed. 'I did not think there was a Mister on the
camp. But how do you know my name?'

'I have heard it here to-night half a dozen times. My name is Wat
Ryder--Walter Ryder, but mono syllabic Christian names are insisted on
amongst our friends.' He pointed his cigar towards the diggers at the
tables. 'Forgive me,' he continued in an even voice, 'but your scrutiny
of me is suggestive. May I ask what there is in my appearance or my
manner that disturbs you?'

The question was put without feeling of any kind, but it startled Jim a