"Money!" Ezra shrugged his shoulders. "He hasn't much actual cash, for he lives far above his income. However, with a little judicious dabbling in the share market, and an occasional help from the children of Israel, he manages to get along all right. Our friend Caprice will ruin him shortly, and then he'll return to the Great Republic, I presume--good riddance of bad rubbish for Australia."
"And who is that colourless-looking little man who has just come up?"
"He is rather washed out, isn't he?" said Ezra critically. "That is his assistant manager, Evan Malton. For some inexplicable reason they are inseparable."
"Oh, and is Mr. Malton also smitten with Caprice."
"Very badly--more shame to him, as he's only been married for twelve months--he neglects his young wife, and dances attendance at the heels of his divinity."
"Doesn't Hiram J--what's his name, object?"
"Not at all. You see they're both mixed up in speculation, and work together for their mutual benefit. Malton is the Lazarus--I don't mean myself--who picks up the crumbs of love that fall from Mr. Dives Fenton's table."
"It can't last long," said Keith in disgust.
"It will last till Malton gets rid of Fenton, or Fenton gets the better of Malton--then there'll be a row, and the weakest will go to the wall. Tell me, whom do you think will win?"
"I should say Fenton," replied Keith, glancing from the effeminate countenance of Malton to the shrewd, powerful face of the American.