"You'd better not try to play any tricks with Morton if you want him to help you. That's a friendly bit of advice I'll give you."
"Thank you, sir; I'll remember it," was the humbly-spoken answer, though there was a sudden gleam in the pale blue eyes that Gray did not see. "I've heard along the road what a good employer he is. They were tellin' me at Billoora last night about the poor cove what was lost. I suppose there's no chance that he'll ever be found now, sir?"
Gray felt the colour going out of his cheeks at the sudden reference to Harding.
"I'm afraid not," he said hurriedly. "But I must go on. There's your road straight in front of you. You can't miss it."
The man had put his hand on the neck of the horse, and he still kept it there.
"I'm sorry I spoke, sir. I can see as how you're a friend of his, and I wish I'd held my tongue. But 'tis his mate I pities most. How's he bearin' it now, sir? They was tellin' me he's nigh broken-hearted."
Gray stared blankly at the man for a moment without answering. Then he recovered himself and said with some haughtiness, "I would rather not talk of it, my man. Just let my horse go, will you? I'm in a hurry."
The man stepped back instantly with a word of apology, and Gray rode on without looking back. If he had turned his head he would have seen his late companion gazing after him with a satirical smile on his crafty face.
"We'll have some more talk afore long, my fine gentleman," he was saying. "You didn't think, did you, that I knowed who you was? Them men at Billoora aren't half-bad at a description."
And with a laugh Mr. Lumley, as he chose to call himself at that particular moment, went on his way.