knew he wouldn’t have the pluck to tell the truth now, even if he was that sort of a man. I didn’t know what to do, so I spoke to the Doctor straight. I caught him coming out of the Royal, and walked along the road with him a bit. I suppose he thought I was going to show cause why his doors ought to have another coat of varnish.
“‘Hallo, Mitchell!’ he said, ‘how’s painting?’
“‘Doctor!’ I said, ‘what am I going to do about this business?’
“‘What business?’
“‘Jack Drew’s.’
“He looked at me sideways—the swift haunted look. Then he walked on without a word, for half a dozen yards, hands behind, and studying the dust. Then he asked, quite quietly:
“‘Do you know the truth?’
“‘Yes!’
“About a dozen yards this time; then he said:
“‘I’ll see him in the morning, and see you afterwards,’ and he shook hands and went on home.
“Next day he came to me where I was doing a job on a step ladder. He leaned his elbow against the steps for a moment, and rubbed his hand over his forehead, as if it ached and he was tired.
“‘I’ve seen him, Mitchell,’ he said.
“‘Yes.’
“‘You were mates with him, once, Out Back?’
“‘I was.’
“‘You know Drew’s hand-writing?’
“‘I should think so.’
