Australia Revenged Part 17

"Can you tell me--" he enquired of the first gentleman he met.

"No, got no time," said the individual addressed, as he bustled away at the rate of ten miles an hour.

"Where are the cab-ranks?" he asked another.

"Up there, round the corner," replied this one, without stopping, and being well out of range before Hal had understood his reply.

After trying to extract the information from about a dozen people, he gave it up, for every man he spoke to seemed to be in a greater hurry than his fellows. "One continued rush," said Hal, "all day long; each trying to out-do the others in business, but it all ends in the mushroom style, for they boom up everything to ten times its value, and when the relapse comes matters are fifty times worse. That's Melbourne."

After several unsuccessful attempts to find a cab-rank on which was a hansom with a grey horse, they at last saw one in Swansea Street, but to their chagrin, before they could get to it, they saw a hansom with a grey horse and a driver answering to d.i.c.k's description drive away.

"That looks like d.i.c.k," said Reg, excitedly.

"Here you are, gintlemen, jump in," said the driver of a cab, with a strong Irish accent, as he brought his vehicle to a standstill alongside them.

Acting on impulse they jumped in.

CHAPTER X.

CABBIES.

Hal and Reg had merely acted on impulse when they entered the cab. All they wanted was to get the cab out of the neighbourhood of the rank. So they ordered the driver to take them to Hosie's Hotel, in Flinders Street. Going along, a smart landau pa.s.sed them, carrying a young man.

"Look, Hal," cried Reg, pointing him out. "There is our friend, the bishop's son. Wonder whose carriage he is in."

"Don't know, but it is exactly as I told you. He'll live for twelve months or more among _our_ bloated aristocracy, who will feel only too honoured to have him as their guest."

"I suppose he has money?"

"Not necessarily. He can borrow, and they will be only too glad to lend.

As soon as he is tired of one, he can go to another, and so on until he plays them all out. Finally, he marries an heiress, and goes home to spend her money amongst his friends and relations," said the cynical Hal.

The cab brought them to the hotel, and, alighting there, they ordered a boy to the horse's head, and asked the cabby to join them in a drink.

"What's your name, cabby?" asked Hal, as he handed him a pint of beer.

"Terence O'Flynn, with the accent on the 'ynn.'"

"Very nice name, too. Did you notice that cab with the grey horse drive away as we drove up?"

"Sure I did, for wasn't he foreninst me?"

"Do you know the driver's name?"

"Rather! It's d.i.c.k Burton he is, and no other."

"Where's he gone to now, Terence?"

"Sure, and I cannot tell you. He is a lucky devil is d.i.c.k, and always manages to get hold of a soft line."

"What do you call a soft line, Terence?"

"Why, gents like yourselves, with plenty of bra.s.s."

"I see, and for that reason you want us to take your cab, eh? You want a soft line, too."

"Oh! I don't mean it that way. You see, a soft line is when a fellow pays his cabby a sov., instead of a bob."

"But these sort are scarce now, Terence?"

"I don't know about that. That fellow, d.i.c.k, allus seems to spot 'em.

Why look at that chap Wyck who----"

"Are you a mate of d.i.c.k's?"

"Well, you see, we go for a booze sometimes together."

"Come on! Drive us to Tattersall's stables."

"Right you are, boss," answered Terence, as he mounted the box, and cracking his whip, drove them quickly to the stables.

"Drive right in, Terence," shouted Hal.

"Take that horse out and give him a good feed," said Reg to the groom in charge as they alighted. "Now come along, Terence."

But Terence was too amazed to stir. All his Irish wit had left him, and he did not feel certain his fare were not softies. He stood with his hat in one hand and, scratching his head with the other, gazed blankly at his horse being led away to the stable.

"Come on, Terence," called Hal again; but Terence did not appear inclined to stir.

"I'll fix him, Hal," said Reg, going to the groom and paying for an hour's feed in advance. This had the desired effect, and Terence followed them without a word, but his perplexed thoughts ran thus:

"Now be jabers, by ould Oireland, here's a couple of queer coves. What the divil are they up to at all, at all? Maybe it's information they'll be wanting about d.i.c.k. Terence O'Flynn mind what you're up to--that's what Biddy, the darlint, would say if she were here, and by jabers I'll take her advice."

Hal and Reg in the meantime walked to the Palace, and calling Terence in, took the lift to the fifth floor, and went to their room.

"Sit down, Terence," said Reg, pushing a chair forward.

"You mean straight, gentlemen, I hope, 'cos I have a big family, and sure they'll all be kilt intirely should anything happen to me."

"Terence O'Flynn, we--"

"Begging your honours' pardon, the accent's on the--"

"Never mind the accent now, Terence. We mean business. We want you to tell us all you know about Wyck and his cabby, d.i.c.k Burton. If you can give us any particulars that will a.s.sist us, we will pay for the information," said Hal, producing two or three sovereigns and jingling them together.