The description fitted to a nicety.

Purdy did in truth look down on his luck.

Unkempt, bearded to the eyes, there he stood clutching his shapeless old cabbage-tree, in mud-stained jumper and threadbare smalls--the very spit of the unsuccessful digger.

Well might they be suspected of not owning the necessary to pay their way! "All serene, mister! The boss'ull take you on." The sanctum was a trifle larger than the outer room, but almost equally bare; half-a-dozen deed-boxes were piled up in one corner.

Stalking in with his chin in the air, Mahony found himself in the presence of a man of his own age, who sat absorbed in the study of a document.