The grounds through which the upstanding bay horses bore them over the superb gravel, were extensive, but in perfect order. Many of the trees, chiefly of semi-tropical habit, were of great age, and their broad glossy leaves, faintly stirred by the sea-breeze, had a murmuring sound, which told the heart of an imaginative listener tales of a calm enchanted main of coral reefs, of palm-fringed, milk-white strands, and all the wonders of the charmed Isles of the Great South Sea. They drew up at the door of a large old-fashioned mansion, built of pale sandstone and surmounted by an extremely broad paved verandah, looking like a section of an ice-house. ‘Mr. Neuchamp!’ said the old gentleman, ‘this is your home as long as you are in Australia. I hope you like the look of it. It’s exactly twelve minutes to dinner-time; so I recommend both of you to waste no time in dressing. James!’ A serious-looking man-servant advanced, and taking Ernest’s portmanteau inducted him into a fascinating bedroom, with such a view of the sea that he was nearly led into forgetting the old gentleman’s paternal admonition, and being late for dinner. However, by putting on extra steam, after the important transaction of the tie was completed, he managed to re-enter the hall just as Mr. Frankston came skipping downstairs, and was immediately entrusted with the care of Miss Frankston as far as the dining-room. The evening was warm, but the perfection of cookery, combined with the quality and temperature of the wines to prevent any deep feeling of inconvenience. Miss Frankston talked pleasantly and unaffectedly, while the old gentleman neglected no opportunity of interjecting a joke or telling some remarkably good story, for Mr. Neuchamp’s benefit, of which his daughter did not always see the point. After dinner Miss Frankston retired, with an assurance from her father that they did not intend to absent themselves for more than ten minutes, after which the serious butler brought in tenderly another bottle of claret, and departed. ‘Fill your glass, Mr. Neuchamp,’ said the old man; ‘it won’t hurt your head, nor your—any other part, I guarantee, for I imported it myself, and let us talk a _very_ little business. What do you think of doing?’ ‘My intention is fixed to purchase a landed property, an estate or station, as you call them. Of course I can only begin in a small way, and that was why Mr. Selmore’s place, Gammon Downs, seemed particularly suited.’ ‘Gammon Downs has ruined every man but Selmore, who has ever had anything to do with it. It’s a sour, bad little place, in which you would have lost all your money in about a year, and would have had to sell, or give away, the stock.’ ‘And did Mr. Selmore know that it was a bad investment, an undesirable property, when he offered it to me?’ ‘I am sorry to say,’ quoth the old gentleman, ‘that he _did_ know it, perfectly well; he knew that it has ruined half a dozen men, whose names I could give you.’