"Is that plain enough? I've been
bulling on West Australians, and they boomed and this afternoon the
Government decided not to back us at Bekwando, and the mines are
to be shut down. Tell you all about it if you like."
No one wanted to hear all about it. They shrunk from him as though
he were a robber. Only the little brown girl was sorry, and she
looked at him with dark, soft eyes.
"I've given a bill of sale here," Trent continued. "They'll be
round to-morrow. Better pack to-night. These valuers are such
robbers. Come, another bottle! It'll all have to be sold. We'll
make a night of it."
Mrs. Da Souza rose and swept from the room - Da Souza had fallen
forward with his head upon his hands. He was only half sober, but
the shock was working like madness in his brain. The two girls,
after whispering together for a moment, rose and followed Mrs. Da
Souza. Trent stole from his place and out into the garden. With
footsteps which were steady enough now he crossed the velvety
lawns, and plunged into the shrubbery. Then he began to laugh
softly as he walked. They were all duped! They had accepted
his story without the slightest question. He leaned over the gate
which led into the little plantation, and he was suddenly grave
and silent.
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