Mr. Crewe was watching the speaker closely, and hung on every word he uttered. Glancing at the lean and wizened Cathro, he said, “You hear that, Cathro? He locked the door, sir. Did you ever hear the like?”
“From inside his shirt,” Scarlett continued, “he drew a fat bundle of bank notes, which he placed upon the table. Taking a crisp one-pound note from the pile, he folded it into a paper-light, and said, ‘I could light my pipe with this an’ never feel it.’
"‘Don’t think of such a thing,’ I said, and placed a sovereign on the table, ‘I’ll toss you for it.’
“‘Right!’ said my hairy friend. ‘Sudden death?’
“‘Sudden death,’ I said.
“‘Heads,’ said he.”
“Think of that, now!” exclaimed Mr. Crewe. “The true digger, Cathro, the true digger, I know the genus—there’s no mistaking it. Most interesting. Go on, sir.”
“The coin came down tails, and I pocketed the bank-note.
“‘Lookyer here, mate,’ said my affluent friend. ‘That don’t matter. We’ll see if I can’t get it back,’ and he put another note on the table. I won that, too. He doubled the stakes, and still I won.
“‘You had luck on the gold-fields,’ I said, ‘but when you come to town things go dead against you.’