He nudged Smith to come to the point. Presently Smith asked, sulkily:

"Well, what was he saying?"

"I thought I told you! He says he's behind the scenes in this gold boom,
and, if he had a hundred pounds ready cash to-morrow, he'd make three of it
before Saturday. He said he could put one-fifty to one-fifty."

"And isn't he worth three hundred?"

"Didn't I tell you," demanded Steelman, with an impatient ring,
and speaking rapidly, "that he lost his mail in the wreck of the `Tasman'?
You know she went down the day before yesterday, and the divers haven't got
at the mails yet."

"Yes. . . . But why doesn't he wire to Sydney for some stuff?"

"I'm ----! Well, I suppose I'll have to have patience with a born natural.
Look here, Smith, the fact of the matter is that he's a sort of black-sheep --
sent out on the remittance system, if the truth is known,
and with letters of introduction to some big-bugs out here --
that explains how he gets to know these wire-pullers behind the boom.
His people have probably got the quarterly allowance business
fixed hard and tight with a bank or a lawyer in Sydney;
and there'll have to be enquiries about the lost `draft'
(as he calls a cheque) and a letter or maybe a cable home to England;
and it might take weeks."

"Yes," said Smith, hesitatingly. "That all sounds right enough.
But" -- with an inspiration -- "why don't he go to one of these