“But there are not rats everywhere all round the harbour,” said Bertha, with much concern.
“Just swarms with them! That’s the best of it! A fellow could always find a bit of amusement. It’s as good as bandicooting, any day.”
“I think I would rather not be quite so close to the water, then. I hate rats, and I don’t like seeing anything killed. We will go and look for a house together.”
“All right, let’s go to-morrow.”
“Yes, or the next day. To-morrow I have got to have a dress tried on.”
And then the two lovers talked for half-an-hour as to the relative importance of the new dress and the new house, and which it was most important to give the first attention.
Needless to relate, the dress carried the day.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE CONSPIRACY
Alec Booth was at his office looking over his letters that were handed to him by his clerk. He was not a quick reader, and a still slower writer, so his clerk was not only a convenience, but a necessity. One of these letters arrested his attention; it did not refer, like the others, to horse-racing, it bore no address and no proper signature. He read slowly—
“If Mr. Booth is wise he will watch his lady-love more carefully. Like a fool, he believed her story of being forcibly taken away in a cab. She was only too willing, if the truth was known, and if the Squatter did not come to terms it was because he backed out at the last moment. Even now she is meeting him, and if Mr. Booth only likes to be on the right-hand side of Circular Quay at half-past eleven to-night, and keep hidden near the last ship towards the point, he will see her with his own eyes.