"My mozzle is out, Collins." said he, with an effort. "I'll never clear myself—never in the creation of cats. It's all up!"
"Yes; you suffer by comparison with the sanctimonious old hypocrites now," I replied, in a fatherly tone, as I took the half-sovereign from the window-sill. "Feel something like an overproof idiot—don't you? We'll talk about that presently. But see what I've got here."
My second letter ran:—
K3769
No. 256473
Mr. T. Collins.
Sir,—I am directed to inform you that the Deputy-Commissioner purposes visiting Nyngan on the 17th prox. You are required to attend the Office of the Department in that township at 11 a.m. on the day above mentioned, to furnish any information which he may require.
"Not a whisper about the M-form," I remarked. "Perhaps it's in your mail. No odds. Montgomery can complete it, and send it on, just as well as if I had n't been near the place at all. But here's something like two hundred and thirty miles to be done in seven days—and the country in such a state. This is the balsam that the usuring senate pours into captains' wounds. Never mind. The time is only too near, when I'll sit in my sumptuous office, retaliating all this on some future Deputy-Assistant-Sub-Inspector. And, in the meantime, this long dusty ride will make a man of me once more. I must start at once; and I could do with some money. Moriarty, you're owing me fifty notes."
"I know I am," replied the storekeeper, in a quivering voice. He was as punctiliously honourable in some ways as he was perfidious in others—being amiably asinine in each extreme.
"Now, including your little liability to me, how much are you out, even if the Flemington gamble goes in your favour?" I asked.
"Only sixty-eight notes," he faltered. "I'll clear it, right enough, if I'm not rushed, and if I don't get the sack off the station."
"But, by every rule of analogy, you're also badly left on the Flemington," I continued serenely. "How much does that leave you out?"
"Ninety-seven notes, and my rifle," he replied, steadying his voice by an effort. "Mad—mad—mad! I wish I were dead!"
"Will you swear of gambling altogether till my claim is discharged? On that condition, I can extend the time—say to the Greek Kalends."
"If you think I could raise the money by that time," replied the poor fellow dubiously. "Anyway, I give you my solemn promise. But, I say," he continued, with seeming irrelevance—"when do you expect promotion?"
"At any moment. My presentiments, being based on the deepest inductions of science, and the subtlest intuitions of the higher philosophy, are a trifle more trustworthy than yours; and I have a presentiment that
