"I don't think there is much forecast," said Brandon, with a smile. "It
was only the most ordinary calculation made from the well-known fact
that the exportation this year had been slight. But there comes Hedley
now," he continued, moving his head a little to one side so as to look
up the street. "The letters will soon show us all."

Mr. Compton looked out in the direction which Brandon indicated and saw
the clerk approaching. He then settled himself back in his chair, put
his hands in his pockets, threw one leg over the other, and began
whistling a tune with the air of a man who was so entirely prosperous
and contented that no news whether good or evil could greatly affect his
fortunes.

In a short time the clerk entered the inner office and, laying the
letters down upon the table nearest Mr. Compton, he withdrew.

Mr. Compton took up the letters one by one and read the addresses, while
Brandon looked carelessly on. There were ten or twelve of them, all of
which, except one, were addressed to the firm. This one Mr. Compton
selected from among the others, and reaching it out in his hand said:

"This is for you, Mr. Brandon."

"For me?" repeated Brandon, with marked surprise; and taking the letter
he looked at the address with eager curiosity.

The address was simply as follows:

Louis Brandon,
Sydney, New South Wales.