“That’s mighty clever of you both, that is,” Giles says, with an attempt at a careless laugh—which breaks down as he catches sight of the Inspector’s watchful, grinning face. “Look here, though this plan of yours might hurt me with Angland, what good will it do you? You’ll all be in for conspiracy to defraud.”
“Pshaw!” exclaims Miss Mundella’s fiancé, “Angland won’t prosecute his father-in-law. We stand behind the father-in-law. But here’s Browne coming to drag us in to breakfast. Say, what about deed of partnership in run for Lileth? Must I play my joker?”
“I’m going to repudiate all that, I tell you,” replies Giles doggedly. “If you’re fools enough to bring it into Court, I’ll swear I was drunk or something.”
Inspector Puttis grins again, and, drawing an imaginary card from his pocket, leans forward as if to play it, and speaks in a low, hurried voice, for Mr. Browne is slowly approaching.
“Once upon a time there was a stockman on Nango run; let me see, he was head-stockkeeper if I remember rightly. He had a sister, and her only fault was a blind devotion to the interests of her brother. She was——”
“Curse you, what d’you mean?” gasps Giles, going through the eye-bulging and general inflammatory symptoms which we have already had occasion to describe.
“The owner and manager of Nango at this time,” continues Puttis in a louder voice, for Mr. Browne, seeing his friends are evidently busy, has moved away again, “at this time was a wealthy young man, who had been bred and born to believe in the Jewish system of salvation.” Mr. Giles continues silent, though breathing stentoriously. “A successful trick was played upon the Hebrew squatter.”
“Don’t go too far,” gasps Giles, adding pleasantly, “or I’ll wring your blooming neck.”
“I won’t risk it, old friend,” laughs Puttis coolly. “I’ve shown you corner of card. How d’you like it?”
Mr. Giles does not appear anxious to criticise the appearance of the figurative “joker,” and remains silent.