"I don't think that that employment is one for which you are especially fitted, Mr. Smith," said the agent, with a slight smile. Brian had impatiently given the name of Smith in making his application, and the agent, who was a man of wide experience, did not believe that it was his own; "but, of course, if you like to try it, you can look at these papers about 'assisted passages.'"
"Thank you, that is not necessary," answered Brian, rather curtly. "A steerage passage to Australia does not cost a fortune. If I go out as a labouring man I think I can manage it. But I am obliged to you for your kindness in answering my questions."
He had resumed his usual manner, which had been somewhat ruffled by the tone taken by the agent, and now asked one or two practical questions respecting the fares, the lines of steamers, and matters of that kind; after which he bade the agent a courteous good-morning and went upon his way.
He foresaw that the inevitable cloud hanging over his past story would prove a great obstacle to his obtaining employment in the way he desired. Any work requiring certificates or testimonials was utterly out of the question for him in England. In Australia or New Zealand things might be different. He had no great wish to go to America—he had once spent a summer holiday in the Eastern States, and did not fancy that they would be agreeable places of residence for him in his present circumstances, and he had no great desire to "go West;" besides, he had a wish to put as great a distance as possible between himself and England. As he walked away from the emigration office he made up his mind to take the first vessel that sailed for Sydney.
He had nothing to do. He wanted to divert his mind from thoughts of Elizabeth. It flashed across his mind that he would go to the hospital and inquire after the man who had been stabbed, and who called himself Vasari.
He made his request to see the patient, and was admitted with such readiness that he suspected the case to be a dangerous one. And, indeed, the house-surgeon acknowledged this to be so. The stab, he said, had gone wonderfully near the vital parts; a hair's-breadth deviation to the right or left, and Vasari would have been a dead man. It was still uncertain whether he would recover, and all agitation must be avoided, as he was not allowed either to move or speak.
"I am not sure whether he is the young man I used to know or not," said Brian, doubtfully. "Vasari—was there a Christian name given as well?"
"Yes: Bernardino, and in another place simply Dino. Was that the name of your friend?"
"Yes, it was. If I saw him I should be sure. I don't suppose that my appearance would agitate him," said Brian, little suspecting the deep interest and importance which would attach to his visit in Dino's mind.
"Come, then." And the surgeon led the way to the bed, hidden by a screen from the rest of the ward, where Dino lay.