He scrutinised the thin, handsome face intently. Then he looked from the man to the hotel before which the latter had alighted.
“Stopping here?” he asked.
Lawless nodded, and Van Bleit’s manner warmed.
“I’ve made lots of inquiries about you, but could never learn anything,” he said. “I feared you had gone under, but,” with a glance at the hotel front, “this scarcely looks like it.”
“On the contrary,” Lawless answered, “I’m on top at present. I’ve been under and afloat several times since last we met.”
“You struck it rich at the mines, I suppose?”
Lawless laughed unexpectedly.
“Yes,” he lied. “I struck it rich at the mines. Any man might who wasn’t a fool.”
Van Bleit looked cunningly intelligent.
“True,” he answered. “If a man wants to get there in Africa it don’t do for him to be squeamish. You didn’t earn your nickname, Grit, in being over soft.”