The Luminaries

maybe you’ll drop my name. Casual mention. Just to see.’
    ‘I won’t.’
    ‘It would be as good as murder, Mr. Staines. He’s got a score to settle. He wants me dead.’
    ‘I can keep a secret,’ said Staines. ‘I won’t tell anyone.’
    ‘I believe it,’ said Wells. He put out his hand. ‘Good luck.’
    ‘Yes—good luck.’
    ‘Perhaps I’ll be seeing you.’
    ‘Perhaps you will.’
    Staines remained on the steps of the Reserve Bank for a long time after Crosbie Wells stepped down into the street. He watched the other man thread through the crowd towards the land agent’s office, where he mounted the steps, removed his hat, and stepped inside without a backwards glance. Fifteen minutes passed. Staines rested his elbows on the rail, and kept watching.
    ‘Shipwreck—shipwreck—shipwreck on the bar!’
    Staines watched the bellman approach. ‘What’s the name of the craft?’ he called.
    ‘The
Titania
,’ said the bellman. ‘A steamer. Run aground.’
    Staines had never heard of the
Titania
. ‘Where was she coming from?’
    ‘Dunedin, by way of Auckland,’ the bellman replied. When Staines nodded, dismissing him, he continued on: ‘Shipwreck—shipwreck—shipwreck on the bar!’
    At long last, the door of the land agency office opened, and two men walked out: Crosbie Wells, and a second man, presumably a land agent, who was putting his arms into his coat. They stood talking on the porch for several minutes; presently a small two-horse cab came clopping around the side of the building, and stopped to let Wells and the land agent climb aboard. Once they were seated, and the doors closed, the driver spoke to the horses, and the small vehicle clattered off to the north.

ACCIDENTAL DIGNITY
    In which two chance acquaintances are reunited, and Edgar Clinch is less than pleased.
    Mr. Edgar Clinch proved a guide both solicitous and thorough. During the short walk from Gibson Quay he maintained a constant and richly detailed commentary upon everything they passed: every shopfront, every warehouse, every vendor, every horse, every trap, every pasted bill. Anna’s responses were few, and barely uttered; as they approached the Reserve Bank, however, she interrupted his chatter with a sudden exclamation of surprise.
    ‘What is it?’ said Clinch, alarmed.
    Leaning against the porch railing was the golden-haired boy from the
Fortunate Wind
—who was gazing at her with an expression likewise incredulous.
    ‘It’s you!’ he cried.
    ‘Yes,’ said Anna. ‘Yes.’
    ‘The albatrosses!’
    ‘I remember.’
    They regarded one another shyly.
    ‘How good to see you again,’ Anna said after a moment.
    ‘It is perfectly serendipitous,’ said the boy, descending the steps to the street. ‘Fancy that—us meeting a second time! Of course I have wished for it, very much—but they were vain wishes; the kind one makes in twilight states, you know, idly. I remember just what yousaid, as we rounded the heads of the harbour—in the dawn light. “I should like to see him in a storm”, you said. I have thought of it many times, since; it was the most delightfully original of speeches.’
    Anna blushed at this: not only had she never heard herself described as an original before, she had certainly never supposed that her utterances qualified as ‘speeches’. ‘It was only a fancy,’ she said.
    Clinch was waiting to be introduced; he cleared his throat.
    ‘Have you been in Hokitika long?’ said the boy.
    ‘I arrived this morning. Just now, in fact—we dropped anchor not an hour ago.’
    ‘So recently!’ The boy seemed even more astonished, as though her recent arrival meant that their chance reunion was even more remarkable to him.
    ‘And you?’ Anna said. ‘Have you been here long?’
    ‘I’ve been here over a month,’ said the boy. He beamed suddenly. ‘How good it is to see you—how very wonderful. It has been a great age since I have seen a familiar face.’
    ‘Are you a—a member of the camp?’ said Anna, blushing again.
    ‘Yes; here to make my fortune, or at least, to chance upon it: I confess I do not quite understand the difference. Oh!’ He snatched off his hat. ‘How outrageously rude of me. I haven’t introduced myself. Staines is my name. Emery Staines.’
    Clinch used this opportunity to interject. ‘And how do you like Hokitika, Mr. Staines?’
    ‘I like it very well indeed,’ replied the boy. ‘It’s a perfect hive of contradictions! There is a newspaper, and