A Town like Alice

him seventy pounds. "Look, Joe," I said. "We want to think about this thing a bit. I think I'll have to write and tell Miss Paget that I've met you. You see, she thought you were dead."
    He stared at me. "You knew about me, then?"
    "Not very much," I said. "I know that you stole chickens for her, and the Japs nailed you up and beat you. She thought you died."
    "I bloody near did," he said grinning. "She told you that, did she?"
    I nodded. "It's been a very deep grief to her," I said quietly. "You wouldn't want her to go on like that? You see, she thinks it was her fault."
    "It wasn't her fault at all," he said in his slow way. "She told me not to stick my neck out, and I went and bought it. It wasn't her fault at all."
    "I think you ought to write to her," I repeated.
    There was a long pause.
    "I dunno what in hell I'd say to her if I did," he muttered.
    There was no point in going on agonizing about it. I got up. "Look, Joe," I said. Take a bit of time to think it over. When have you got to be back in Australia?"
    "I wouldn't be doing right by Mrs Spears unless I get back on the station by the end of October," he said. "I don't want to serve her a crook deal."
    "That gives you two and a half months," I said. "How much did your airline ticket cost you when you came here?"
    "Three hundred and twenty-five pounds," he said.
    "And you've got five hundred pounds left, on your letter of credit."
    "That's right."
    "Do you want to go back by air, or would you rather go by sea? I could find out about sea passages for you, if you like. I think it would cost about eighty pounds on a tramp steamer, but you'd have to leave pretty soon-within a fortnight, say."
    "There don't seem to be much point in staying here," he said a little wearily. "There wouldn't be no chance that she'll be coming back to England?"
    "Not in that time, I'm afraid."
    "I'd better go back by sea, and save what's left of the money."
    "I think that's wise," I said. "I'll get my office on to finding out about the passage. In the meantime, why don't you move in here? You're welcome to use that spare room till you go, and it will be cheaper for you than living in the hotel."
    "Wouldn't I be in your way?"
    "Not in the least," I said. "I'm out most of the day, and I'd be very glad for you to stay here if you'd like to."
    He agreed to that, and I asked him what he wanted most to see in England in his brief visit. He wanted to see No 19 Acacia Road, Hammersmith, where his father had been born. He wanted to see a live broadcast of 'Much-Binding-in-the-Marsh' which he listened to on short wave from Brisbane when the static permitted. ("They've got a bonza radio at Alice," he said wistfully. "A local station, right in the town.") He wanted to see all he could of thoroughbred horses and thoroughbred cattle. He was interested in saddlery, but he didn't think that we had much to teach them about that.
    There was no difficulty about Hammersmith, of course; I put him in a bus that afternoon, and went into my office to deal with my neglected work. Apart from the clients who came to see me, I had plenty to think about. Whether Jean Paget chose to marry this man when she met him was entirely her own affair, but it was quite a possibility that she would do so. Whatever one might think about the suitability of such a match, there was no denying that Joe Harman had some very solid virtues; he seemed to be hard-working, thrifty if one excepts the great extravagance of flying half across the world to look for the girl he loved, and likely to make a success of his life; quite certainly he was a kind man who would make a good husband.
    There was another aspect of the matter which was worth investigation. Whether she knew it or not, Jean Paget had Australia in her ancestry. She had never mentioned her grandfather, James Macfadden, to me and it seemed quite possible that she had never thought about him much. And yet, he was the original source of her money, and apparently he had made it in Australia before coming home to England to break his neck while riding in a point-to-point in Yorkshire. It would be interesting, I thought, to find out a little more about James Macfadden. Had he made his money on an outback cattle station, too? Had he been just such another as Joe Harman?
    I sent my girl that afternoon to bring me the Macfadden box, and I sat looking through the old deeds and wills after my last client had gone. The only clue I found was in the Will of James Macfadden dated September