“No,” said Varley, slowly. “I left him at Good Luck.” He did not smile, though he would have been justified in doing so, for the bank agent had played heavily, and Varley Howard had cleared him out.
“Perhaps he’s the Government surveyor,” said Esmeralda.
“Too old,” said Varley. “They always die long before that.”
Having exhausted conjecture, they watched the two horsemen as they picked their way up the trail from the hut, and presently Bill caught sight of Howard, and sent up a Coo-ee, which Esmeralda, as in duty bound, answered.
“Well, Varley, my boy,” said Bill, as he pulled up, “how are you? Miss Esmeralda, I hope I see you well? Varley, ’ere’s a gentleman as is anxious to see you. He’s been a-hunting for you from Ballarat to Dog’s Ear. ’Low me to introduce you. Mr. Pinchook, one of England’s limbs of the law—Mr. Varley Howard, the pride and ornament of Three Star.”
Varley Howard raised his sombrero. Mr. Pinchook lifted his London-made bowler; then he got off his horse stiffly, and, with a sigh of relief, wiped his face with a silk handkerchief.
“I have been looking for you for some time, Mr. Howard,” he said. “And I can not tell you how glad I am to find you.” He drew a breath of relief as if the prolonged search had been anything but a pleasant one. “I wish to see you on a matter of business, Mr. Howard.”
Varley Howard inclined his head. Bill the postman rubbed his hand with an air of satisfaction.
“’Aving brought you two gentlemen together, I’ll go back to the boys,” he said. “Well, Miss Esmeralda, if I take anything at all, it’ll be just two fingers.”
Esmeralda got him the drink, which he disposed of at a draught. He nodded round in a comprehensive adieu and trotted off. Varley Howard invited Mr. Pinchook into the hut, and that gentleman, after removing his gloves, and pulling down his waistcoat, which had got considerably rucked up during his ride, took a card from a case and handed it to Varley.