The tramp bared his head; the short grey hair stood crisply on end all over it. He tapped his head significantly, and ran the palm of his hand over the strong bristles of his beard.
"So," said Deverell, drawing his breath hard. "Now I see; you are a brother convict!"
The tramp nodded.
"And you know all about him—the whole story?"
The tramp nodded again.
"By God!" cried Deverell, "if you've come here to trade on what you know, you've chosen the wrong place and the wrong man."
The tramp smiled. "I have not come to trade upon what I know," said he quietly, repeating the other's expression with simple sarcasm. "Now that I've seen you, I can go back the way I came; no need to go on to Dandong now. I came because my old mate asked me to find you out and wish you well from him: that was all."
"He went in for life," said Deverell, reflecting bitterly. "I have the vaguest memories of him; it happened when I was so very young. Is he well?"
"He was."
