d Greek to him at once.

"It's a pity you won't be able to see 'er, sir, as well as 'ear 'er,"
said he.

"Perhaps they have them on hire in the theatre," replied Stingaree at a
venture. The pawnbroker's face instantly advised him that his
observation was wide of the obscure mark.

"The theatre! You won't 'ear 'er at any theatre in Sydney, nor yet in
the Southern 'Emisphere. Town 'Alls is the only lay for 'Ilda Bouverie
out 'ere!"

At first the name conveyed nothing to Stingaree. Yet it was not wholly
unfamiliar.

"Of course," said he. "The Town Hall I meant."

The pawnbroker leered as he put down a sovereign and a shilling.

"What a season she's 'aving, sir!"

"Ah! What a season!"

And Stingaree wagged his opera-hatted head.

"'Undreds of pounds' worth of flowers flung on to every platform, and
not a dry eye in the place!"

"I know," said the feeling Stingaree.

"It's wonderful to think of this 'ere Colony prodoocin' the world's best
primer donner!"

"It is, indeed."

"When you think of 'er start."

"That's true."

The pawnbroker leant across his counter and leered more than ever in his
customer's face.

"They say she ain't no better than she ought to be!"

"Really?"

"It's right, too; but what can you expect of a primer donner whose
fortune was made by a blood-thirsty bushranger like that there
Stingaree?"

"You little scurrilous wretch!" cried the bushranger, and flung out of
the shop that second.

It was a miracle. He remembered everything now. Then he had done the
world a service as well as the woman! He gave thanks for the guinea in
his pocket, and asked his way to the Town Hall. And as he marched down
the middle of the lighted streets the first flock of newsboys came
flying in his face.

"_Escape of Stingaree! Escape of Stingaree! Cowardly Outrage on Famous
Author! Escape of Stingaree!!_"

The damp pink papers were in the hands of the overflow crowd outside
the hall; his own name was already in every mouth, continually coupled
with that of the world-renowned Hilda Bouverie. It did not deter the
convict from elbowing his way through the mass that gloated over his
deed exactly as they would have gloated over his destruction on the
gallows. "I have my ticket; I have been detained," he told the police;
and at the last line of defence he whispered, "A guinea for
standing-room!" And the guinea got it.

It was the interval between parts one and two. He thought of that other
interval, w