g you?"

Had Gerard been worldly wise, taught by his last experience, he would
have answered with equal indifference, "Oh, so-so." Being, however,
only genuine, he replied--

"Badly, I fear."

"So?" said the transport-rider, upon whom the unconscious despondency of
the tone was not lost. "Sorry to hear that. I've often wondered how
you got on, especially with Anstey. Found him, I suppose?"

"I did. And I found him out too."

"So?" said Dawes again. "But look here, if you're not doing anything
just now, come round, and we'll have a bit of dinner together. I'd like
to hear how you've been getting on."

As Gerard's business with the auctioneer would very well keep until the
afternoon, he accompanied his newly found friend to a luncheon bar in
the neighbourhood, and there, over a dish of sizzling beefsteak and a
bottle or two of English beer, gave a full account of his experiences
and misadventures since they had parted.

"When you first told me you were going to find out Anstey, I'd have
liked to have warned you," said Dawes, who had listened attentively to
every word of his narrative. "But, then, I thought it was none of my
business, and you said he was a relation of yours, too, which of course
made it all the worse. I know him well; and, what's more, he knows me."

"He seemed to," said Gerard, remembering the disquieted look which had
come into Anstey's face when he had mentioned the transport-rider.

"Rather. I gave him a licking once--well, it's an old story and don't
matter now. But, excuse the question, I suppose you find yourself at
pretty low ebb just now, eh?"

"Low ebb isn't the word for it," was the weary reply. "I've been moving
heaven and earth to try and raise some sort of a billet, but it's no go.
There seems to be no room for me here. I wish I had never come out."

Dawes had been filling his pipe, and passed his pouch on to his young
companion. As he lighted it, and the glow of the match fell upon his
impassive and weather-beaten features, it brought out therein no trace
of feeling, no sign that the other's narrative interested him one whit.
But in reality he was revolving a plan. He had from the very first
taken a great liking to this bright, frank, warm-hearted English lad,
the extent of whose difficulties now he was thoroughly capable of
appreciating.

"You wouldn't be over particular as to the sort of billet you might get,
eh?" he said, puffing out a great cloud of smoke in