“And I can do it how I like, where I like, and when I like between nightfall and dawn?”
“Exactly.”
“Then I think I can do it so that all the post office clerks in the country couldn’t bowl me out.”
But the merchant merely nodded in response to this braggadocio—he was already giving his mind to other matters.
Without another word the goldsmith left the office. He walked quickly along the street, regarding neither the garish shops nor the people he passed, and entered the doors of the Kangaroo Bank, where the Semitic clerk stood behind the counter.
“How will you take it?”
The words were sweet to Benjamin’s ear.
“Tens,” he said.
The bank-notes were handed to him, and he went home quickly.
The digger was sitting where Tresco had left him.