‘But you would have no chance in the States,’ answered Beattie. ‘It would be throwing away money to go there.’ ‘I would want an outfit,’ said MacGowan. ‘Not very much. I’m told you can buy most things as cheaply out there as in this country. If you like to go to Western Australia, which is the country I recommend, decidedly, I’ll lend you enough for the passage-money and some clothes, and twenty pounds to start with. What do you say to that?’ MacGowan was astonished. ‘Man, Beattie, you’re acting like a Christian,’ he said solemnly, as he stretched out his hand. Then he began to weep. Beattie took the outstretched hand, though it was not a very clean one, and shook it. ‘Look here, now,’ said he, ‘this is what you’ll do. Make yourself as smart as you can, and meet me at the King’s Cross Metropolitan Station in an hour’s time. I will have half the money--twenty pounds--ready for you then. Thirteen of that will be for your passage-money, and the rest for clothes. Go to the owners’ office in Fenchurch Street, and take your ticket this afternoon. Bring it to my lodgings any time this evening, and I’ll see you off to-morrow afternoon, and give you the other twenty pounds. Will that suit you?’ ‘Couldn’t be better, Mr. Beattie; couldn’t be better. But if the same firm should have a boat for Canada, for example----’ ‘I thought we had settled that,’ said Beattie quietly. ‘Why should I throw away my money in helping you to emigrate to a country where I feel convinced you would starve?’ Whereupon MacGowan protested his perfect readiness to go to Australia, and Mr. Beattie departed. Once or twice during the interview Beattie had been tempted to make distant references to what had passed at the tavern the preceding night, with a view to ascertaining how much or how little of it MacGowan remembered. But he wisely refrained from doing so. The clerk seemed to have forgotten the piece of extra work which Beattie had persuaded him to do, or, if he remembered it, he apparently thought it was not worth alluding to. To refer to it now, Beattie considered, might only have the effect of refreshing his memory, whereas, if nothing happened to recall the incident which had taken place when he was half tipsy, it would probably fade altogether from his recollection. An hour later, MacGowan presented himself at the rendezvous at King’s Cross. He had evidently made a great effort to look respectable; but he still had the appearance of a man who was just recovering from a debauch. Beattie did not detain him long. ‘Here’s the money,’ he said, slipping a roll of sovereigns into his hand, ‘and you’ll repay me out of the first money you can conveniently spare.’ ‘I’ll work my fingers to the bone; I’ll live on bread and water----’ began MacGowan.