While he was down, Doherty, waiting at the windlass, received a visit from the friendly neighbour who had kept an eye on their cradle at the creek. He said that one of his mates was minding it still, but as no one had been near it all the afternoon, and nothing seemed doing on the claim, he had just come to see if anything was amiss. The man was a genial, broad-shouldered, black-bearded digger of a rough but excellent type, and on reflection Doherty told him of the drugged beer and the resultant loss of the nugget, but of nothing else. The digger seemed considerably interested, asked several questions, and good-naturedly lent a hand to raise Denis from the depths. "I've just been hearing of your loss," said he, "and I congratulate you! It's not many lucky diggers whose luck attracts the light-fingered gentry and who only lose a four-ounce nugget after all! So that cook of yours has gone to look for the Chinaman?" "Yes." "I hope he'll find him," said the burly digger, and went off with a dry smile and a good-humoured nod. But it was no Chinaman whom Jewson had gone to seek; it was a gentlemanly digger of peculiarly British appearance, with military whiskers which had never been allowed to meet upon the chin; and he was found waiting at the place where the special coach with the English mail was due to start for Melbourne at six o'clock. "At last!" said he in an ungracious undertone. "What happened to you, Jewson? I had given you up altogether." "I thought he'd never wake up," whispered Jewson as they drew aside, "and I dursn't run the risk of his finding me gone, as well as--as well as this, sir!" "What the devil are you talking about, Jewson? And what's that?" It was a small brown-paper parcel which the steward had produced. "Something you're going to be so kind as to post and register in Melbourne, sir. In Melbourne, mind--not in London, Captain Devenish!" "But it's addressed--why, damme, it's addressed to Miss Merridew!" "I know that, sir." "Who addressed it?" "The clever bloke who thinks he's going to marry her," answered Jewson through his artificial teeth. "Clever he may be," he added, "and successful he is, but he ain't so clever that he's going to succeed in that!" Devenish took heart from the cunning and confident face raised so slyly to his. Yet his heart of hearts sank within him, for it was still not utterly debased, and his compact with this ruffian was a heaviness to him. "What do you mean by asking me to post his presents to her?" he demanded angrily; but his anger was due less to the request than to the underlying subtlety which he felt he had far better not seek to probe. "I'm not going to tell you, Captain Devenish. You said you'd leave it to me, sir." "But it is something from him to her?" "That I promise you; but it'll tell its own tale, and you'll hear it soon enough, once you get home safe and sound."