“Thank yer!” he said. “Now then, you fellers!”
“I wish you’d keep your hat on your head, and your money in your pockets and your sympathy somewhere else,” growled Jack Moonlight as he raised himself painfully on his elbow, and felt under his pillow for two half-crowns. “Here,” he said, “here’s two half-casers. Chuck ’em in and let me sleep for God’s sake!”
Gentleman Once, the gambler, rolled round on his shake-down, bringing his good-looking, dissipated face from the wall. He had turned in in his clothes and, with considerable exertion he shoved his hand down into the pocket of his trousers, which were a tight fit. He brought up a roll of pound notes and could find no silver.
“Here,” he said to the Giraffe, “I might as well lay a quid. I’ll chance it anyhow. Chuck it in.”
“You’ve got rats this mornin’, Gentleman Once,” growled the Bogan. “It ain’t a blanky horse race.”
“P’r’aps I have,” said Gentleman Once, and he turned to the wall again with his head on his arm.
“Now, Bogan, yer might as well chuck in somethin,” said the Giraffe.
“What’s the matter with the —— jackaroo?” asked the Bogan, tugging his trousers from under the mattress.
Moonlight said something in a low tone.
“The —— he has!” said Bogan. “Well, I pity the ——! Here, I’ll chuck in half a —— quid!” and he dropped half a sovereign into the hat.