The confidence-man was delighted with the interest his farming friend was taking in the story.

"Yes," he said; "my uncle in Fiji is enormously wealthy."

"Uncle?" said the farmer. "In Fiji? What did you say his name was?"

"Oh, his name," replied the confidence-man, "his name is - er - Brown - Mr. John Brown."

A look of deep concern came into the old farmer's face. He placed his hand kindly and sympathetically on the other's shoulder.

"Brown? John Brown, did you say? My poor man! My poor, poor man! Have you not heard?"

"Heard wot?" asked the confidence-man, somewhat taken aback.

"Ah, my poor man," murmured the farmer. "I thought perhaps you knew. Your uncle, Mr. Brown, of Fiji - I know him well - has lost all his money - suddenly - every penny of it."

"Oh, that must have been some other Brown," said the spieler, lightly. "My uncle is" -

"Ah," said the farmer. "Do not seek to buoy yourself up with any false hopes. I know all the Browns in Fiji. There is only one John Brown, and he, poor man, lost his entire fortune quite recently. Dear, dear; I am very sorry for you, very sorry; and if sixpence will be of any use to you, here it is. But try to bear up. It is sad news - sad news, and you have my sympathy. Good-bye."

Then an astonished confidence-man stood on the footpath, gazing blankly at the sixpence in his hand, while the farmer strolled off down the street, with his whiskers blowing gaily in the breeze.

"C.J.D."
The Gadfly, 11 September 1907