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diff --git a/27061.txt b/27061.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..aec2c67 --- /dev/null +++ b/27061.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9895 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rider of Waroona, by Firth Scott + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Rider of Waroona + +Author: Firth Scott + +Release Date: October 27, 2008 [EBook #27061] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIDER OF WAROONA *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Wall and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + The Rider of Waroona + + By Firth Scott + + Author of + "The Track of Midnight," "The Last Lemurian," + "Romance of Polar Exploration," etc. + + London + John Long, Limited + Norris Street, Haymarket + + _All rights reserved_ + + _First Published in 1912_ + + + + + SOME PRESS OPINIONS OF THE AUTHOR'S WORKS + + + _Daily Chronicle:_--"Mr. Scott knows the colonial, native born, to + the bones and the marrow." + + _Westminster Gazette:_--"To say that each of them is a gem is not + saying too much." + + _Globe:_--"Mr. Firth Scott writes a straightforward, vigorous + style, and has a keen eye for effective incident." + + _World:_--"Deserves grateful recognition by lovers of tales well + told." + + _Scotsman:_--"Characteristically Australian." + + _Morning Post:_--"The story of Australian settlement is of + enthralling interest." + + _Saturday Review:_--"This interesting and instructive book is very + pleasant reading." + + _Literary World:_--"Mr. Firth Scott's stories are, alternately + imbued with rare glamour and realism. In either atmosphere he is + entertaining, and in both convincing." + + _AT ALL LIBRARIES AND BOOKSELLERS_ + + + + + Contents + + + I. CROTCHETY DUDGEON 9 + II. THE RIDDLE 21 + III. DISAPPEARED 34 + IV. DURHAM'S SURMISE 44 + V. MRS. BURKE'S PRESENTIMENT 58 + VI. THE FACE AT THE WINDOW 79 + VII. SNARED 93 + VIII. THE NOTE THAT FAILED 103 + IX. DUDGEON'S HOSPITALITY 118 + X. "FOOLED" 133 + XI. MRS. BURKE'S REBUFF 156 + XII. AS THROUGH A MIST 173 + XIII. REVENGE IS SWEET 191 + XIV. THE LAST STRAW 211 + XV. THE RIDER'S SCORN 227 + XVI. LOVE'S CONQUEST 244 + XVII. DUDGEON PROPOSES 265 + XVIII. UNMASKED 286 + XIX. THE ASHES OF SILENCE 307 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +CROTCHETY DUDGEON + + +In an old, rackety, single-horse buggy, a vehicle which, to judge by the +antiquity of its build and appearance and the rattle of its loose worn +bolts, might have done duty since the days of the first pioneers, +Dudgeon drove from his homestead to the bank. + +He was a man who never discarded any article of use or clothing until it +was hopelessly beyond repair. With a huge fortune stowed away in +gilt-edged securities and metropolitan house property, he grudged even a +coat of paint for the vehicle he had driven for nearly forty years. The +local wheelwright had long since declined to attempt to repair it, so +the old man fell back on fencing-wire and his own skill whenever the +final collapse seemed imminent. + +There was a legend circulating among the older residents of the district +as to the reason for his peculiarities. To the younger generation it was +merely an out-of-date story, for young Australia has scant heed for +everything which does not come within his own personal range of +experience or knowledge. But the legend, as extant, gave some +significance to the seemingly unreasonable actions of the eccentric old +man. + +In the early days, when railways were not and the land was open and free +for the bold young bloods to conquer, Dudgeon had come out from the +coastal cities of the south. He had health and strength, and a heart +which knew not fear; but whatever of wealth he had had was left in the +hands of gambling sharks in the cities whence he came. He arrived at the +township on foot, a rare occurrence in those days when no man journeyed +half a mile except in the saddle. But the fact that he had walked +"looking for work," as he said, drew so much attention to him that +offers were made from all sides to hire his services. He accepted the +best, and went to Waroona Downs with the then owner, one Henry Lambton, +who, with his wife and daughter, resided at the house beyond the range. + +Another was there also, a young man about Dudgeon's age, an Irishman +named O'Guire, a dashing, reckless fellow who made up in sharpness of +wit and trickery what he lacked in moral stability and scruples. +Indirectly, he was the pivot on which the course of Dudgeon's life +turned from the normal. + +The direct cause was Kitty Lambton. + +In a community where men predominate, every woman ranks as a belle; but +throughout Waroona and the districts for hundreds of miles round, Kitty +was queen, acknowledged even by her sister rivals. Before her charms +young Dudgeon fell prostrate in adoration, and she, jealous of her sway +over all with whom she came in contact, trifled and philandered with him +until neither earth nor heaven held anything more adorable for him than +herself. He was her slave, devoting himself to her with such abandon +that her vanity was gratified to the extent of influencing her, when +others began to remark upon the manly attractions of her admirer, to +allow him the privilege of believing that she would marry him. + +But she was only trifling with him, callously and not too gently, for +the edification of herself and her real lover, O'Guire. The truth leaked +out when one day O'Guire vanished from the district and with him +vanished Kitty. + +Thereafter Dudgeon was a changed man. Filled with an insensate belief +that Lambton and his wife were mainly, if not entirely, responsible for +an ill which brought them almost as much suffering as it brought him, he +went from the place, hugging schemes of deep vengeance to his breast. It +was in the days of the early gold finds, and Fortune showered on Dudgeon +her compensation for the injury of Love. All that came to him he took +and treasured, until he had enough for his purpose. Then he returned to +Waroona, and set about exacting the full measure of his revenge upon the +Lambtons. + +He drove them from Waroona Downs, following them from the district when +they went, following them until he found them living with Kitty and her +husband in one of the southern cities, struggling fiercely for a bare +existence. The slings and arrows of misfortune had not brought out the +better side of O'Guire's nature and, at the time Dudgeon pounced down +upon them, he had only just emerged from prison. Detail was lacking in +the current legend as to what immediately happened thereafter, for when +Dudgeon came back to Waroona Downs he was silent on the subject, and +only rumours filtered through of Lambton and his wife going down, each +heart-broken, to a pauper's grave, while O'Guire and his wife barely +eluded the final act of vengeance by escaping over sea. + +Under Dudgeon's ownership Waroona Downs flourished, and later he +acquired the largest station in the district. The success he enjoyed at +Waroona Downs followed him. His ownership of Taloona alone made him the +richest man in the community. + +But no amount of money could bring back to him the nature which had been +his before the bitterness of betrayal changed him to a misanthropical +cynic. His hatred of women was not appeased by the revenge he had on the +Lambtons and O'Guires. He would not employ a woman; he would not employ +a man who was married; he would not tolerate the presence of a woman on +any of his properties. However valuable a man might be to him as an +employee, instant dismissal was inevitable directly that man announced +his intention of marrying. + +In one instance the effect of this rule recoiled almost entirely on his +own head, but that did not deter Dudgeon from adhering to it. + +He employed a man, first as overseer, then as manager, and finally as +confidential factotum. Unknown to him, Dudgeon set numberless traps and +pitfalls to test his reliability, and when, on every occasion, the man +came through the tests unscathed, he received so much consideration from +the taciturn old misanthrope, that he was currently regarded in the +light of the heir to the Dudgeon millions. + +Perhaps something of the current belief crept into his own mind, for +there came a time when he cast his eyes upon the sister of a neighbour +and, braving the risk of Dudgeon's anger, sought her hand in marriage. +Unfortunately for him she accepted him, and the news, travelling apace, +reached the ears of Dudgeon before the happy lover had a chance to +impart it personally. The old man rode direct to the station. + +"I'll have no women folk on my property," he blurted out as soon as he +was face to face with his factotum. "Nor any man who has dealings with +them. Clear out." + +It was vain to argue. All appeals to years of bygone service, all +reference to business transactions then pending which would be +jeopardised by the removal of the man who had the negotiations in hand, +were curtly brushed aside. Dudgeon had spoken, and no power on earth +would change him from his purpose. The would-be Benedick had chosen, and +by that choice he had to abide. + +From that arose a quarrel with the bank, for the sudden dismissal led to +an important transaction failing for the want of a simple act. The bank +officials, knowing the man with whom they were dealing waited for the +instructions which never came. Had they acted without them he would +probably have repudiated their action, but as they did not act, he +blamed them for his loss, accused them of dishonesty and removed his +account, vowing never to have dealings with them again if he could avoid +it, and always putting them to the greatest inconvenience when he was +compelled to deal with or through them. + +Now, by an irony of fate, he was forced to have dealings with them +again, dealings which he resented for more reasons than his antagonism +to the institution, and dealings, moreover, which he was prepared to +leave no stone unturned to bring to naught. + +He had placed Waroona Downs in the hands of Gale, the local auctioneer, +for sale. The one condition he had imposed was that the purchaser should +be a resident of the district, a condition he had considered ample to +prevent the property passing into the possession of one of the +opposite--and hated--sex. Yet that condition had failed. A purchaser had +been found, a purchaser for whom the bank was acting, and a purchaser +who, while being a resident in the district, was also a woman. + +Dudgeon--"Crotchety Dudgeon" as he was termed by his neighbours, who, +despite his wealth, usually regarded him as being of no account in the +general scheme of Nature--had done his best to repudiate the bargain; +had blustered and fumed, threatening actions and penalties against all +and sundry, but in vain. The bank officials were polite, listening to +all he had to say in silence and only speaking in cold, precise, formal +phrases to reiterate the intention of the purchaser to hold to her +bargain, and the readiness of the bank to complete, on her behalf, the +transaction. + +He refused to meet or see her, but he could not help hearing of her, and +what he heard only served to stimulate his resentment, for her name, +Nora Burke, recalled memories of his Irish rival O'Guire, while the +bitterness of his surrender to the charms of Kitty Lambton was revived +when he understood that Mrs. Burke also belonged to the fascinating type +of woman. + +She had, he learned, the coal-black hair of the Western Irish, and +grey-blue eyes which flickered and flashed behind thick dark lashes. +What her other features were he did not hear, for her wealth of hair and +the charm of her eyes carried all before them. But, as a matter of fact, +no other feature was conspicuously beautiful, and it was difficult to +realise where the charm of her face rested until the full force of the +dark-lashed eyes was recognised. Within them lay the secret of the power +she wielded. + +Although not above the average height, a graceful and well-proportioned +figure gave the impression of a greater stature. One of the most +accomplished horsewomen who ever sat a side-saddle, her appearance on +horseback would alone have sufficed, in a community like Waroona, to +have won for her the admiration and homage of the public. But there were +yet other reasons for the popularity she acquired within an hour of her +arrival. + +Forty miles from a railway, the township was the centre of a district +divided into a series of sheep stations. When the season came for +shearing the wool and despatching it to the markets in the cities on the +coast hundreds of miles away, the population was fairly respectable in +point of numbers, though with the riff-raff which formed the army of +camp followers moving in the track of the shearers and teamsters, +respectability was not otherwise manifest. But at other periods of the +year, there were few men and fewer women scattered over the area marked +on the map as Waroona, and including as many square miles as some +English counties possess acres. Wherefore the arrival of any new-comer +was an event; but when that new-comer was a woman, and one, moreover, of +the many personal charms and accomplishments of Mrs. Burke, it was +inevitable that her advent should form the subject of something more +than passing interest. + +Her frank manner of speech also helped her, for there is nothing more +objectionable to the average Colonial than the person who is reserved on +the subject of his or her private and personal concerns. + +There was no such reserve with Mrs. Burke. She had not been twenty-four +hours in Waroona before it was known that she was a young widow left +with a stepson to bring up and educate on the rents from an impoverished +Irish estate. Year by year it became more and more difficult, she said, +to collect those rents from tenants to whom politics were more +attractive than commercial obligations. Therefore, when a chance +occurred for her to sell the estate, she did not hesitate to entertain +it. But, in order that her stepson might still derive as much benefit as +possible from the wreck of his ancestors' wealth, she determined, before +selling, to seek in Australia a new heritage for the last of the Burkes. + +Waroona Downs was suggested to her as the very place to suit her, and +Gale at once offered it to her. The negotiations were rapidly completed, +and the community was collectively rejoicing at the good fortune of +having so desirable an acquisition as the handsome Irishwoman added to +it when a miniature thunder-bolt fell in the form of the emphatic +refusal of the owner to sell the property to a woman. + +Following the advice of her many friends and admirers, Mrs. Burke took +up her residence at the place so that she might claim the nine points of +the law possession is said to give, while she handed to the bank the +deeds of her Irish property, and against them the bank agreed to +complete the purchase. + +Popular opinion was entirely with the young widow, and popular opinion +was strong enough to force Dudgeon back to the last resource. This was a +demand that the purchase price of the station should be paid in gold. + +The price was twenty-five thousand pounds and, as Dudgeon well knew, +there was not such a quantity of coin to be found in the district, where +it was the almost invariable practice to pay everything by cheque or +order. He had preferred his demand formally; had waited for a reply that +the bank was prepared to meet it and, as no such reply had reached him, +was about to declare the matter at an end. + +He drew up at the bank. Eustace, the manager, was speaking to his +assistant as the old man entered. + +"I've come for the money," he said abruptly, and stood by the counter, +holding out his gnarled, bony hands. + +"You mean the purchase money for Waroona Downs, Mr. Dudgeon?" Eustace +replied suavely. "You are rather early, are you not?" + +"I gave you notice three days ago. You'll pay over or the deal's off. +Which is it?" + +Harding, the assistant, passed a document to Eustace. + +"These are the terms of the sale, Mr. Dudgeon," Eustace said in the same +smooth tone. "The completion of the purchase is to be performed one +month from the date on which the agreement to buy was made. Mrs. Burke +agreed on the 20th of last month. To-day is the 17th. She has therefore +three days before you can make your final demand." + +Dudgeon grabbed the document and read it through. The wording was as +Eustace had said. He had played his card too soon. + +"I'll beat you yet," he cried as he flung the paper across the counter. +"No matter what it costs, I'll never have a woman owning one of my +properties. You're a lot of scheming scoundrels, but I'll beat you +yet." + +He bounced out and flogged his horse to a gallop as he drove away. + +"If the head office had sent off the gold at once when I wired, it would +have been here by now," Eustace said to his assistant. + +"Then everyone would have known it was here, and there is no saying what +might have happened," Harding jestingly answered. "Anyway, it is due +to-night." + +Later, when the bank had closed for the day, a light waggon drew up at +the door with a couple of men in it. + +"We've some books and boxes of stationery for you from the Wyalla +branch," one of the men called out as Eustace opened the door and looked +out. + +A bushman slouching past with his roll of blankets slung across his +back, glanced round at the waggon and continued his way to the hotel. +Eustace and Harding both helped to carry the bundles and boxes into the +bank. When they were all inside Eustace turned to the men. + +"You'll have some dinner with us before you go back?" he asked. + +"Can't, old chap. Head office orders. Don't know what sort of people the +general manager thinks you've got in this part, but the strictest +secrecy in everything were our instructions, so Ted and I are teamsters +and nothing but teamsters till we get back to our own branch. So long, +old chap." + +"It does seem a lot of rot," Harding remarked when the waggon was away +again. + +"You haven't been here long enough to know old Dudgeon, Harding. Let us +get the gold into the safe--we'll put it in the reserve recess. I only +hope the old man comes in again to-morrow morning, so that we can pay it +over and get clear of it and his business." + +But the next day passed without any sign of Dudgeon, and after a last +look round to see that all was right Eustace and Harding bade one +another good night with the hope that on the morrow Dudgeon would come +for his gold, though there was still another day before he could legally +demand it. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE RIDDLE + + +At five minutes to ten the following morning Eustace awakened to find +the sunlight streaming into his room, the bank in absolute silence, and +his head so light and dizzy he could scarcely stand when he sprang out +of bed. + +He glanced at the alarm clock on the mantelpiece. The alarm was set for +six, the hour at which Eustace almost invariably awakened. He had no +recollection of hearing it ring that morning, yet only a touch was +required to show that it had gone off at the proper time. + +His wife still lay in deepest slumber. + +"Jess! Jess!" he cried, as he shook her. "Wake up, Jess! It's nearly ten +o'clock. Wake up! Wake up!" + +She stirred heavily, uneasily, drowsily. + +"Wake up! Wake up!" he repeated. "Look what time it is." + +She sat up with a gasp, pressing her hands to her head. + +"Oh, what is it?" she exclaimed. "My head! How it throbs!" + +"It's nearly ten o'clock," Eustace cried. "I don't hear anyone moving. +The bank must be open in five minutes." + +He hurried across the landing to his assistant's room and +unceremoniously opened the door. + +His assistant was in bed in a heavy sleep. + +"Harding! Fred! Wake up, man! Do you know what time it is?" he said, as +he grabbed the sleeper's arm and shook him so vigorously that he pulled +him half out of bed. + +Sleepily Harding's eyelids lifted to reveal glazed and lack-lustre eyes. + +"What's up?" he mumbled. "What's the matter now?" + +"Look at the time," Eustace cried excitedly. + +Harding pushed his hand under his pillow, raised himself on his arm and +flung the pillow over. + +"Where's my watch?" he exclaimed. "Where has it gone?" + +"Don't you hear me say it is nearly ten o'clock? What on earth do you +mean by sleeping to this hour when the bank ought to be open?" + +Harding blinked at his pyjama-clad manager. + +"You don't seem to have been up so very long," he grumbled. "But where's +my jolly watch gone? I'll swear I put it under my pillow last night. Are +you having a joke? Have you hidden it?" + +"I have not touched your watch. I tell you it's ten o'clock and the +bank----" + +"Then someone has stolen it," Harding exclaimed as he sat up. + +The pupils of Eustace's eyes contracted to pinpoints. With an +inarticulate cry he dashed from the room and rushed to the stairs. He +heard his wife call from the servant's room but paid no heed to the +words. + +Down the stairs he plunged, springing across the passage to the door +leading from the residential portion of the building to the banking +chamber. + +The door was locked. + +"Thank God!" he exclaimed. "I was afraid it had been broken into." + +He ran upstairs again, meeting his wife at the top. + +"I can't wake that girl, Charlie. What shall I do?" she said. + +"Shy cold water over her," he answered abruptly as he went on to his +room, where he seized his clothes and fumbled nervously for his keys. + +They were in the pocket where he always kept them. + +The discovery reassured him. Whatever else had happened, the bank was +safe, for without the keys no one would be able to get at the cash. It +was curious how everyone in the house had overslept themselves, but that +was a detail to be unravelled subsequently. For the moment he must race +into his clothes and be downstairs in time to have the bank's doors open +to the public by ten. + +He was nearly dressed when Mrs. Eustace returned to the room. + +"Charlie, whatever has happened? Bessie can hardly stand. She's exactly +as if she had been drinking." + +"Oh, don't bother me about Bessie," he said petulantly. "It's ten +o'clock, and the bank is not open." + +He pushed past her and sped down the stairs. Despite his efforts to +recover his confidence, his hand still trembled as he unlocked the door +leading to the bank and entered the office. + +One quick glance round set his mind at ease. The place was in the same +state of neatness and order as when he and Harding locked up the night +before. + +He crossed to the street door, unlocked and unbolted it and pulled it +open. As he did so, Harding came in through the private entrance. + +"I say, Eustace, hang it, what have you done with that watch?" he asked. +"It's not in my room. Where have you put it?" + +"I have not seen your watch. Make haste and get the safes open and the +books out. Look at the time," Eustace replied sharply. + +The keys of the big safe, or strong-room, as they termed it, were kept +in a smaller one, to which there were two keys, Eustace and Harding each +holding one. The last vestige of fear passed from Eustace's mind as the +keys of the strong-room were found lying in their usual place. He sighed +with relief as Harding picked them up, unlocked the heavy door and, +swinging the handles, threw the strong-room open. + +The tray on which the cash had been placed after balancing the previous +evening was in a small upper compartment resting on the books. It was +the usual practice for Harding to remove it and hand it over to Eustace, +who checked the contents while the books and documents necessary for the +day's work were being arranged. + +But Eustace was too impatient to wait for the ordinary methods. As +Harding pushed back the safe doors and bent down to remove the keys, he +reached over him and caught hold of the tray. + +Instead of being heavy, as it should have been with all the gold, silver +and copper coins, it came away in his hands light--and empty! + +His face went livid. He reeled back against the counter, letting the +tray fall to the floor. + +"Gone!" he cried. "The money's gone!" + +Harding started up and stood staring, first at Eustace, then at the tray +lying on the floor. + +"Gone?" he echoed. "Gone? How can it have gone?" + +"It has--the tray is empty," Eustace gasped in reply. + +Harding looked from the tray to the open safe. His glance rested on the +drawer where the bank-notes were kept. He took hold of the handle and +pulled the drawer out. + +It was empty. + +In an inner recess, guarded by second-locked doors, the gold reserve was +kept. The night before the bags of gold had filled it to the doors. + +Harding tried the handles. They held. The locks had not been forced. + +"Have you the keys of the reserve?" he asked. + +With shaking hands Eustace produced them and stood watching, as the +doors were unlocked and swung open. + +The recess was as empty as the cash tray. + +Dumbfounded, Harding turned to Eustace who, with his face ashen, stared +blankly at the empty recess. Then a wild light leapt in his eyes and he +seized the handle of a drawer in the counter where a loaded revolver was +kept lest at any moment an attempt was made to rob the bank during +office hours. + +Harding sprang to his side and gripped his arm. + +"Not that," he cried hoarsely. "Hang it, man, pull yourself together. +Think of your wife!" + +"It's ruin--ruin for me. Better finish it," Eustace muttered. + +Holding him back with one hand, Harding pulled the drawer open with the +other to take the revolver away. But the drawer was also empty. + +"That has gone as well," he cried, letting go his hold of Eustace as he +stooped to peer into the drawer. + +Eustace sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. + +"Oh, this is terrible--terrible," he moaned. "Terrible, terrible." + +The door leading to the house was flung open and Mrs. Eustace faced +them. + +"Charlie!" she exclaimed. "My rings and jewellery have vanished. The +cases are all empty. I am certain--why, what is the matter?" she broke +off to ask as she caught sight of her husband. + +She glanced from him to Harding. + +"What has happened?" she said wonderingly, as she advanced further into +the office. + +Opposite the open doors of the strong-room she saw the empty cash tray +lying on the floor, the note drawer pulled out, the vacant space of the +reserve recess. + +"Charlie!" + +Her voice went to a shriek as the truth flashed upon her. + +She rushed past Harding and flung herself on her knees beside her +husband, her arms around him, her face upturned to his. + +"Oh, Charlie, Charlie! Whatever are we to do?" she cried. + +"Shall I go over to the police-station? We had better report it at +once," Harding said quietly. + +Eustace raised his wife from her kneeling position. + +"You must not come in here now, Jess," he said. "Go and learn, as nearly +as you can, what has been taken from the house. Harding and I must send +word to the head office." + +He led her from the room and closed the door after her. + +"We shall have to use the code, I suppose," Harding said, as he +returned. "If you will read out the words, I will write them." + +Eustace sank into his chair again and sat staring blankly in front of +him. + +"Come, come, old chap," Harding exclaimed, as he laid his hand on his +manager's shoulder. "Don't give way. There's a mystery in all this. We +shall want all our wits to clear it up as it is; don't make it worse." + +Eustace raised his head. + +"But who can have done it, Harding? Who can have done it? Every place +locked up and yet the money has gone! No one knew all that gold was +here." + +"You and I knew it." + +"My God! You don't mean----" Eustace cried as he sprang out of his +chair. "You don't----" + +"Steady, old man, steady. Keep your head. There's nothing to be gained +by getting excited. You and I knew it was here and someone at the head +office knew, as well as the fellows at Wyalla. Some word may have leaked +out while it was on the road. There's no saying off-hand; what we've got +to do is to keep cool and go slow if we're to clear ourselves. I'm as +much concerned in this matter as you are." + +Eustace shook his head. + +"No, Harding. I'm manager, and all the responsibility is on my +shoulders. Whatever comes to light, I'm ruined. The bank will fire me +out directly they hear of it--and this was my first branch too." + +"I would not look at it like that," Harding replied. "No game is lost +till it's won. I'll send Brennan over as I pass the station. He may be +able to throw some light on it. Come. Let us draft the report for the +head office." + +But Eustace was too unnerved to render any assistance, and it was +Harding who, single-handed, drafted and coded a brief message reporting +what had been discovered. Not until this message was handed to him did +Eustace move. + +"That's my death warrant," he said gloomily as he signed it. + +Harding took the message and left the office. The township boasted only +one street, the bank being at one end, the post office at the other. +Midway between the two was the police-station, where the one constable +responsible for the maintenance of law and order within the district +resided. + +"Get over to the bank, will you, Brennan?" Harding said as he entered +the station. "You'll have your hands full this time. There's been a +robbery during the night, and all the cash cleared out." + +"What's that, Mr. Harding? The bank robbed? You don't mean it!" + +"Go and ask Eustace; he'll give you all the details. It's floored him. +Hurry over, there's a good chap. I'm on my way to the post office to +wire to the head office; I can't stay now." + +Ten minutes later the news was known from one end of the township to the +other, and was travelling in every direction through the bush to the +outlying stations and selections. + +The farther it travelled the more astounding it became, and yet the form +in which Brennan telegraphed it to his Inspector showed it to be +sufficiently startling and mysterious. + +When the reports had been wired away, Eustace recalled an incident he +had forgotten in the excitement of the initial discovery. + +During the evening, soon after sunset, a stranger called at the bank. He +came to the private entrance where he was seen by Eustace, who described +him as a well-built man of medium height, with sandy hair and beard and, +by appearance, an ordinary bushman. He said he had come in from a +distant station with a cheque he wanted to cash, but as the bank was +closed for the day, Eustace told him he would have to come again in the +morning. He had gone, mounting his horse and riding away in the +direction of the hotel where stockmen usually congregated. + +Brennan went to the hotel in search of him, but no one knew anything +about him there, nor had anyone else seen him either in or out of the +township. + +"But he must have been seen," Eustace exclaimed impatiently, when +Brennan returned to the bank with the news. "He must have been seen. He +could not have vanished." + +"Did anyone else see him besides you when he called?" Brennan asked. + +"No, I was passing the front door at the moment he came. No one else saw +him, so far as I know. But he must have been seen in the township. He +must have gone to the hotel." + +They were standing in the bank office, Brennan on one side of the +counter, Harding and Eustace on the other. + +"You didn't see him?" Brennan asked, looking at Harding. + +"No, I didn't see him," Harding answered. + +"But you heard me speak to someone--I came into the dining-room and told +you it was a man who wanted a cheque cashed," Eustace exclaimed. + +"That's right," Harding said quietly, "I was going to say so when you +interrupted me." + +There was a hum of voices outside and half a dozen men came into the +office--Allnut, the largest storekeeper in the town; Soden, the +hotelkeeper; Gale, the local auctioneer; Johnson, the postmaster, and +two men who were strangers. + +"Here, Soden," Eustace cried, as soon as he caught sight of the +hotelkeeper. "Do you mean to say that the man I told Brennan about never +came to your house last night?" + +Soden, a slow-witted, heavy-built man, shook his head. + +"Not a sign of him, Mr. Eustace," he answered. "But these two men came +in just now. They've got something to say," he added, turning to +Brennan. + +One of the two men stepped forward. + +"We didn't think much of it in a general way," he said, "leastways not +until we heard at the pub about the robbery. You see, me and my mate +camped last night about five miles out on the road. As near as we can +say, it was somewhere about midnight when Bill--my mate," he added as he +waved his hand towards his companion, "looked out of the tent. 'Hullo, +Jim,' he says, 'what's this? Here, come and look, quick.' You see, from +where our camp was we could get a view half a mile down the road. Well, +when I looked out I saw, coming along the road at racing speed, a +pair-horse buggy with two men in it. The chap who was driving had the +horses at full gallop as they passed the camp, but it wasn't him so much +that I noticed as the horses. You see, they were both white--white as +milk. The moon was up and they showed real pretty." + +"White?" Brennan exclaimed. + +"White as milk," the man replied. "That's what made Bill call out. We +didn't know there was a white horse in the whole of Waroona, let alone +two of them." + +"Was that on the main road?" Brennan asked. + +"On the main road--just about five miles out." + +"I know every horse in the district, and there's not a white one among +them," Gale said. + +"These were white--white as milk," the man repeated. "It was what made +us look." + +"If the horses were galloping the tracks would still show in the road," +Gale said to Brennan. "Shall I ride out and have a look?" + +"If you've got a buggy, me and my mate will come too and show them to +you," Jim exclaimed resentfully. + +"That would be better," Brennan said. + +"Come along then," Gale exclaimed, and left the bank with the two men. + +As soon as they were gone Brennan turned to Johnson. + +"Two white horses can't go far in this district without being noticed. +Will you wire round to the different telegraph offices and ask if +anything of the kind has been seen or heard of?" + +"They cannot have gone more than a hundred miles since midnight, can +they?" Johnson asked. + +"A hundred? No, not fifty," Allnut exclaimed. + +"Well, we'll say a hundred. I'll wire to every telegraph office within a +hundred miles. I'll send or bring you word within half an hour." + +"Supposing there is any truth in the yarn," Soden remarked slowly, "how +is it going to help? I brought the men along, not because I believed +their yarn, but because it seemed to me they might know more about the +robbery than they would care to have known." + +"There's no harm in sending off those telegrams, anyway. I'll get away +and put them through," Johnson said as he went to the door. + +He stood for a moment looking out along the road. + +"I fancy that's Mrs. Burke coming," he called back over his shoulder to +Eustace. + +Soden, Allnut, and Brennan, at the mention of the name, moved towards +the door, and Harding came round the counter to join them. + +"You had better see her, Harding," Eustace said under his breath. "Tell +her everything will be all right so far as she is concerned. We cannot +say more until we hear from head office." + +The other three men were already out on the footpath in front of the +bank entrance. Eustace slipped into the little ante-room that served as +the manager's private office, as the sound of a vehicle pulling up +outside the bank reached him. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DISAPPEARED + + +"Oh, never mind," Mrs. Burke exclaimed as Brennan went to the horse's +head and took hold of the reins. "Sure I'm only stopping for a moment--I +won't get out. It's just to see Mr. Eustace I've come." + +The men on the footpath looked at one another and then at her. + +In the doorway Harding stood hesitating whether to go out or to wait +until Mrs. Burke alighted from the buggy. + +"You've heard the news, haven't you?" Allnut asked as he stepped to her +side. "Ill news travels apace, they say. Hasn't word got out as far as +the Downs?" + +Mrs. Burke turned the full battery of her dark-fringed eyes on the +storekeeper. + +"News? What news?" she exclaimed. "I've only just come in. Has anything +happened?" + +She glanced at Harding where he stood in the doorway. + +"To Mr. Eustace? Nothing has happened to Mr. Eustace, has there?" she +added, as she leaned towards Allnut. + +"Well, I don't know," he replied in an uncertain voice. "It affects him +more or less, I suppose, seeing he is the manager. The bank has been +robbed, you know." + +It was well Brennan was at the horse's head, for the shriek with which +Mrs. Burke greeted the information was heard at the post office the +other end of the town and made the horse plunge and rear. Although +Brennan managed to hold it from bolting, it forced the buggy back on the +footpath and almost turned it over. But Mrs. Burke was out long before +then, for with a bound she sprang from the vehicle, sending Allnut +staggering as she blundered against him in her rush for the bank. + +Harding, having heard Allnut's words, stepped forward to meet her. + +"You need not be alarmed, Mrs. Burke," he said, as she dashed up. "So +far as you are concerned----" + +"Where's that villain? Where's that wretch? He's stolen my deeds! I know +it, I know it! I'm ruined! Brennan, come and arrest him." + +Her words, shouted at the top of her voice, rang through the place and +out on the roadway, where Brennan was still struggling with her rearing +horse, and Soden and Allnut stood by as sympathetic onlookers. + +"If you will come in, the manager will explain the matter to you," +Harding said. + +"Don't talk to me about explaining," she shouted in answer. "Where are +my deeds? Where are the deeds of my Irish property? If you've stolen +them----" + +"Pray speak quietly, Mrs. Burke," Harding said. "There are others who +can hear you, and the bank----" + +"Others? Others hear me? I'll let them hear me. I want them to hear me. +I've nothing to hide, and I'll not shelter any scoundrel who will rob +and cheat a lonely widow. Maybe others will not stand by and see an +unfortunate poor weak woman robbed and swindled----" + +"If you will come inside, Mrs. Burke----" + +"I'll not come inside. I want my deeds back. I'll have nothing more to +do with your wretched bank. Sure I'm distracted. Have you those deeds?" + +"Mr. Eustace," Harding began, when she flung round and leaped away from +the door. + +"Brennan!" she cried. "Brennan! Come here, Brennan. They've robbed me of +my deeds, the deeds of my Irish property. They insisted I should leave +them here, and now they tell me they're stolen. Who's stolen them if it +isn't that scoundrel in there? Come and arrest him. Come and help me +recover my just rights." + +She shouted out the words despite the fact that Brennan was still +careering round in the roadway trying to pacify her plunging horse. + +Harding glanced over his shoulder towards Eustace's room as she left the +doorway. He saw Eustace slip from the room and make for the door leading +into the private portion of the house. At the door he turned. + +"Get her to come in here," he said impatiently. + +As he was speaking Mrs. Burke flounced round again and caught sight of +him. + +"Oh, there you are," she cried, as she stepped inside. "Now, what have +you to say?" + +Eustace closed the door after him as she was speaking. + +Mrs. Burke rushed out again into the road. + +"Mr. Allnut! Mr. Soden! I can trust you. Will you stay here and see that +villain does not slip out and escape? He's gone into the house. I'll go +to the front door." + +She ran towards the private entrance, but stopped opposite Brennan, who +had at last succeeded in getting the horse under control. + +"They've robbed me, Brennan," she cried. "I left all the deeds of my +Irish property with them. They've stolen them and say the place has been +broken into as a blind. I don't believe it. It's Eustace. I never +believed in him. Sure, if it hadn't been for Mr. Gale I'd never have +listened to him. But now what am I to do? Where's Mr. Gale? Why isn't he +here to help me? Why don't you tell him to come at once?" + +"Mr. Gale has gone along the road with two men we want to know something +about, Mrs. Burke. He'll return shortly. You had better see Mr. Eustace. +It's only money which has been taken, I believe. Mr. Eustace will be +able to tell you all about it." + +"But he is trying to escape," she said in a whisper. "I saw him go out +of the other door. He'll get away. Come and arrest him." + +"Never fear," Brennan answered, as he smiled. "I'll see he doesn't get +away. I'll watch here till you come out." + +"Will you please come this way, Mrs. Burke? Mr. Eustace is waiting to +see you," Harding called out from the bank entrance. + +"I'll go," she said to Brennan. "But mind! I rely on you--thank God your +father and mother were Irish even if you were born out here." + +"Mr. Eustace asks if you will mind going into the dining-room," Harding +said. + +She shot a resentful glance at him as she swept by and passed through +into the house. Eustace met her and led her into the dining-room, +closing the door after him. As Harding shut the door leading from the +bank, Johnson, the postmaster, came in. + +"Here is a message just come through--I brought it down at once as I +thought you'd be anxious," he said. + +"Half a minute," Harding said, as he took the telegram. "Eustace is +seeing Mrs. Burke in the house. I'll take it to him in case there is a +reply." + +He went through to the dining-room, knocked at the door and opened it. +Mrs. Burke, her eyes flashing and her cheeks flushed, was standing +facing Eustace, who sat by the table with his head resting on his hand. + +"Here's a telegram--Johnson is waiting to see if there is any reply," +Harding said, as he held out the message. + +Eustace took the telegram mechanically, opened and read it and handed +it, open, to Harding. + +"Read it," he said. "There's no answer. I'll join you presently." + +Harding left the room, glancing at the message as he crossed the +passage. It required no answer, as Eustace had said. It was very brief. + + "Inspector Wallace will take charge." + +Harding whistled. Wallace was the senior inspector of the service, and +his special faculty was the unravelling of tangled accounts and the +detection of defaulting managers and cashiers. Leaving the ordinary +inspection of branches to his juniors, Wallace only journeyed from the +head office to take charge when grave suspicions were entertained as to +the integrity of a branch staff. The telegram was tantamount to an +intimation that the authorities of the bank did not regard the robbery +as the work of an outsider. + +As he re-entered the office, Brennan was standing at the entrance with +Johnson. + +"No answer," Harding said quietly, and Johnson nodded and went off. +Brennan turned and crossed to the counter. + +"Is Mr. Eustace about?" he asked. + +"He is talking to Mrs. Burke in the dining-room. She's rather excited, +and he took her in there because she would shout so. He'll be back in a +few minutes, unless you want to tell him something particularly at +once," Harding answered. + +Brennan glanced at a telegram he held in his hand. + +"It will do when he comes out," he answered slowly. "Have you had any +word?" he added, as he leant over the counter. + +"The head office wires that Inspector Wallace--our bank inspector, that +is, not one of your police inspectors--is coming up." + +"Is that all?" + +Harding gave a short laugh. + +"All? It's quite enough, Brennan. Between you and me it means that +Eustace and I are suspected--one of us or both." + +"Yes, that's right," Brennan said quietly. "One or both." + +As he spoke he held out a message for Harding to read. + + "Keep manager under close surveillance till I arrive. + "DURHAM." + +"You know who Durham is?" Brennan asked. + +"Never heard of him," Harding answered. + +"He's the finest man who ever put on a uniform," Brennan exclaimed. "He +is the sub-inspector in charge of this district--he's only been +appointed a couple of months. I reckon it's only a temporary thing for +him, just until there's room to make him an inspector. It's a good thing +for your bank he is coming up. If anyone on earth can unravel a mystery, +my sub-inspector is the man. He won't be long before he has the matter +cleared up." + +"If he can get to the bottom of this business, I'll agree with you," +Harding replied. "But I don't think very much of his first idea; I don't +think he is right if he suspects Eustace. When do you expect him?" + +"I should say he will be here some time during the day. He wired from +Wyalla, and I expect he'll ride across country--it will be quicker than +waiting for a train at the junction. Ah, there's Mr. Gale back," he +exclaimed, as a buggy drove past the bank. "If you'll let me know when +Mr. Eustace is free, I'll just step out and hear what he has discovered +about the yarn the men told us." + +"All right. I'll call you as soon as Eustace comes in," Harding said, +and Brennan left the office. + +Soon after he had gone Harding heard the dining-room door open and Mrs. +Burke's voice ring through the house. + +"I don't believe a word of it. It's false; it's untrue. It's all a +blind. I'll see whether there is not justice in the land for an +unfortunate widow robbed of her all." + +Then the door was slammed and the front door opened and slammed also. + +Harding sat waiting for Eustace to come back to the office. He heard +Mrs. Burke's voice sounding shrill outside, but not clear enough for him +to distinguish what she was saying. Then the buggy started and drove +rapidly away. + +A gentle tap came at the door leading to the house, and Mrs. Eustace +opened it and looked in. + +"Has that dreadful woman gone?" she asked in an agitated voice. "Is +Charlie here?" + +Harding rose and went over to her. + +"No. He has not come back yet. He is in the dining-room. Shall I tell +him you want him?" + +"Oh, no, perhaps it will be better to leave him alone till he comes out. +Did you hear what she said? She has been making such a scene in there. +Poor Charlie, as if he had not enough to worry him as it is, without her +saying such terrible things." + +Brennan, with Gale and Johnson, appeared at the entrance, and Mrs. +Eustace went back into the house, closing the door after her. + +"Mrs. Burke has gone," Brennan said, as he came over to the counter. "Is +Mr. Eustace in the office?" + +"He has not come out of the dining-room yet. Shall I tell him?" Harding +replied. + +"I'll go through," Brennan said. + +Harding opened the door and stood holding it, with Gale and Johnson +behind him, as Brennan went to the dining-room door and knocked. + +Receiving no answer, he opened the door. + +"There is no one in there," he called out. + +With one accord the three moved forward. Brennan was half-way across the +room when they reached the door. He went to the window and looked at the +fastening. + +"He did not get out this way," he cried. "He must be in the house +somewhere." + +Mrs. Eustace appeared on the stairs, and came down. + +"Where is your husband, Mrs. Eustace?" Brennan exclaimed directly he saw +her. + +"He was in there--isn't he in there now?" she said, as she passed into +the room. + +"He is not here, Mrs. Eustace, though Mrs. Burke left him here when she +came out a few minutes ago. Where is he?" + +With widely open eyes Mrs. Eustace stared from one to the other. + +"Oh, what is it?" she cried. "What is it? Tell me--is it----" + +For a moment she stood with her eyes fixed on Brennan. + +"Oh, my God!" she cried as she flung up her arms and fell headlong to +the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +DURHAMS'S SURMISE + + +Eustace had disappeared as completely and mysteriously as the gold which +had been in his keeping. + +Every corner of the building from the roof to the basement was examined. +Even the cupboards were inspected and the made-up beds pulled to pieces, +lest he should have succeeded in secreting himself amongst the jam-pots +or inside the covering of a pillow; but no trace of him could be found. + +His hats hung on their accustomed pegs, so that if he had gone from the +house he must have gone bareheaded. But the question which none could +answer was how he had managed to go from the house at all. + +At the time Mrs. Burke left the dining-room, Brennan was standing +talking to Gale and Johnson in front of the private entrance. In the +office Harding was waiting for his manager to come from the house. Thus +two out of the three ordinary means of exit could not have been used +without Eustace being seen. The third was the back door opening from the +scullery, which, in turn, opened from the kitchen. Bessie was in the +kitchen when the slamming of the dining-room door announced the +departure of Mrs. Burke. + +Both she and her mistress were insistent that Eustace did not pass +through the kitchen. Each told the same story when interrogated. As soon +as the signal of Mrs. Burke's departure was heard, Mrs. Eustace went to +the door leading from the kitchen to the passage and stood waiting for +her husband to appear. When he did not do so, she went to the door of +the office, knocked, and asked Harding if Eustace were there. She +maintained that the door of the dining-room had not been opened after +Mrs. Burke flounced out. Harding, who was listening in the office, also +maintained it had not been opened. + +The mystery of Eustace's disappearance was still agitating everyone when +Sub-Inspector Durham rode up to the bank. Listening, without comment, to +all Brennan had to report, he went through the premises with Harding and +Brennan, saying nothing till he came to the back door. + +Situated as it was, with only the bush behind and beyond it, the bank +was thus free from being overlooked. A block of ground at the back was +surrounded by a three-rail fence, but the cultivation was limited, a +score of fowls occupying the far end and the remainder of the area +consisting of a grass patch and a few indigenous shrubs left when the +ground was fenced in from the bush. + +Standing there, he waved his arm comprehensively towards the unoccupied +land at the side and back of the building. + +"Once outside, who was to see him clamber over that fence and make for +the shelter of the bush?" he asked. "While you were loitering at the +front door, Brennan, your man was walking out at the back." + +Brennan gnawed his moustache in chagrin. + +"But--how did he get out of the dining-room?" Harding exclaimed. + +Durham turned slowly and looked steadily into Harding's eyes. + +"He walked out, Mr. Harding, walked out through the door." + +"The door was shut." + +"When you saw it. It was probably closed as noiselessly as it was +opened--his wife saw to that. Then, as soon as he had slipped out this +way, she came to your office and threw dust in your eyes by asking where +her husband was. Just the sort of thing a woman would do. What did he do +with his keys--the bank keys, I mean?" + +"He had them with him." + +"Oh, no, Mr. Harding. They would be no further use to him. He must have +left them behind him. We shall find them somewhere. Let me have a look +at the safes which were robbed." + +"Shall I send off a description of the man to the police in the +neighbourhood, sir?" Brennan asked. + +"Did you not do so at once?" Durham asked, swinging round sharply. + +"I was preparing it when you arrived, sir." + +"We will look at the safes," Durham said. + +Harding had pushed-to the doors of the big safe As he pulled them open +Durham pointed. + +"What keys are those?" he asked. + +In the lock of the reserve recess the keys Eustace gave Harding in the +morning were still hanging. Harding took them out. + +"They are the manager's keys," he said. "In the excitement of the +discovery that all the gold had gone, I must have forgotten to return +them. I had no idea they were here when you asked me what Eustace had +done with the keys. I entirely forgot them." + +"But he did not, Mr. Harding. Do you know where he kept his private +papers?" + +"That was his private office," Harding replied, pointing to the little +ante-room. + +"When do you expect the relieving officer to arrive?" + +"I can hardly say. He may come by train to the junction, in which case +he should be here about noon to-morrow." + +"Then you will be in charge until he arrives?" + +"I have telegraphed to the head office reporting that Eustace has +disappeared and asking for instructions. Until they come, of course, I +am in charge." + +"Then you will come with me while I examine his desk, though I do not +suppose it contains anything but official papers--now. In the meantime, +Brennan, send away your description to all the neighbouring +police-stations and also to head-quarters for general distribution. When +you have done that you can come back here. I shall be waiting for you." + +He followed Harding into the little room. + +"You had better go through the papers, Mr. Harding. They will probably +all relate to the bank's business. I only want to see those which do +not." + +"It was in this drawer he kept his own papers," Harding said, as he +touched the knob of one of the side drawers. + +"Is it locked?" + +"No," Harding replied, as he pulled it out. "But it is empty," he added. + +"Quite so," Durham replied in an unconcerned voice. "As I expected." + +Harding stared at him in perplexity. + +"But--but----" he stammered. "I don't understand it. I cannot--I cannot +believe it of him." + +Durham stood silent. + +"Only a madman would have done such a thing, and Eustace is no more mad +than I am," Harding added. + +Still Durham said nothing. + +"But if he had done such a thing, why did he remain here? Why not get +away at the same time as he got the gold away? Surely----" + +"Would you mind looking through the remainder of the drawers?" Durham +interrupted. + +Harding opened them one after the other, examined the papers they +contained, and replaced them without making any further remark. The +search was unavailing so far as private papers were concerned--all were +connected with the bank. As Harding examined them, Durham stood beside +the table without a word or a glance at the papers. When the last drawer +had been opened, gone through, and closed, Harding turned to him. + +"There is nothing here except what concerns the bank," he said. + +"You are sure he kept all his own papers here?" + +"Quite sure. The first drawer I opened was full of them yesterday. He +had it out after the bank closed last night when I came in to give him +the cash balance." + +"I will see Mrs. Eustace," Durham said shortly. "In the interests of the +bank I should like you to be present. Will you ask her to come in here?" + +"Perhaps she would rather see you in the house." + +"As she pleases--if you will ask her." + +Harding found her sitting disconsolately in the dining-room and gave her +Durham's message. + +"Very well, I'll see him--here--if you stay." + +She spoke without moving her eyes. + +"I will be here," he said as he left the room to call Durham. + +In the office he found a telegram had just arrived. It was an answer to +his wire to the head office. + + "Close office. Do all to assist the police. Wallace should arrive + noon to-morrow." + +He handed the message to Durham, who just glanced at it. + +"Is she coming in here or not?" Durham asked. + +"She is in the dining-room, and will see you there," Harding answered. + +Mrs. Eustace was standing staring out of the window when they entered +the room. + +"I can tell you nothing. I know nothing more than I have already said," +she exclaimed as she turned to meet them. + +"If you will kindly answer my questions I will be obliged," Durham +replied. "Can you tell me where your husband kept his private papers?" + +"Yes, in his office--that is, as a rule." + +"And when he did not keep them there, where were they?" + +"Oh, he always kept them there, but sometimes he had some in his pocket. +Last night----" + +"Yes? Last night----?" Durham said as she stopped. + +"Oh, it's nothing. Merely that he had some papers in his pocket and +discovered they were there when he was upstairs." + +"Do you know what he did with them?" + +"Of course I do. He left them on the dressing-table. They are there +now." + +"Will you show them to me?" + +"Mr. Harding, will you take him upstairs? The papers are by the +looking-glass." + +Durham followed Harding upstairs without a word. On the dressing-table a +small packet of folded documents was pushed half under the mirror. +Durham picked them up and glanced at them. + +"Thank you," he said. "Now we will go down again." + +"These are the papers you referred to?" he asked, as soon as they were +in the dining-room. + +"Yes," Mrs. Eustace answered. + +Durham laid them on the table in front of him. + +"Can you tell me anything about your husband's private affairs?" he +asked, looking steadily at her. + +"I don't quite understand what you mean," she replied slowly. + +"In regard to his mining speculations." + +Harding saw the momentary start, quickly recovered, that she gave at the +question. + +"Do you know he speculated?" + +She sat silent with averted face. + +"Do you know he speculated both in shares and horse-racing?" + +Still there was no reply, and Durham added, "Speculated and +lost--heavily?" + +"Not heavily," she exclaimed, flashing round upon him. "He did not lose +heavily. He may have----" + +She checked her words suddenly, closing her lips and turning her face +away. + +"Will you please finish your sentence, Mrs. Eustace?" + +"He may have lost--sometimes; but he won as well. He had those +shares--they may yet bring him in a fortune," she said, pointing to the +papers on the table. + +"Do you know if there was ever any official reference to his +speculations?" + +Harding could barely hear the words as, with bowed head, Mrs. Eustace +replied. + +"I did not quite catch your answer," Durham said quietly. + +"I said yes, there was--once." + +"Did he tell you what was said?" + +"I don't know," she said after a few moments' silence. "You had better +ask the bank. I don't know anything about it." + +"Perhaps you know why your husband was appointed to this branch?" + +"I don't know anything about it," she replied in a low tone. + +"It may save time if I tell you at once, Mrs. Eustace, that the general +manager of the bank has put me in possession of all information +regarding your husband--you will not improve the situation by denying +what I know you thoroughly understand." + +Mrs. Eustace looked up and met a glance which gave her the uncomfortable +sensation of being looked through and through. She lowered her eyes more +quickly than she had raised them, paled and then flushed blood-red. + +"Your husband did not escape through the kitchen," Durham said in his +even tone of voice. + +"I have already said so," Mrs. Eustace replied, scarcely above a +whisper. + +"He left this room by the window." + +The blood left her cheeks as she started. Harding saw her hands clasp +tightly. + +"And you secured the window on the inside after he had gone." + +"No!" + +The monosyllable escaped her lips like the yap of a dog at bay. + +"You secured the window on the inside after he had gone," Durham +repeated in cold, unruffled tones. + +Mrs. Eustace sprang to her feet and faced him. + +"It's a lie," she cried. "The room was empty when I came to it." + +"The room was empty, quite so. And the window was open. You closed and +secured it." + +"I tell you I did not." + +"You have already said that you only stood at the kitchen door until you +went to the office to ask whether your husband was there. Now you say +the room was empty when you came to it. Which statement do you expect me +to believe?" + +"I don't care what you believe," she cried. "You have no right to ask me +these questions. I will not answer you. Mr. Harding, I appeal to you. If +you have no regard for the honour of an absent friend, at least you +might protect the wife of your friend from insult." + +Durham's eyes never wavered as he watched her. + +"No insult is offered or intended, Mrs. Eustace," he said quietly. "Mr. +Harding, in the interests of the bank, as well as in the interests of +your husband, is desirous, as we all are, of knowing the truth. I will +ask you one more question: Where were you when Mrs. Burke left the +dining-room and crossed the passage to the front door?" + +Mrs. Eustace, with close-set lips, stood defiantly silent. + +"Will you answer that question?" Durham said. + +"No, I will not. I will tolerate this no longer." + +With a quick, angry gesture she turned to the door. + +Durham was on his feet and in front of her before she could take two +steps. + +"Until I have seen your servant, Mrs. Eustace, you will remain here," he +said. "Will you kindly come with me, Mr. Harding?" + +He held the door open while Harding passed out, following him without +another word. + +But there was little to be ascertained from Bessie more than she had +already told. She heard the door slam and her mistress go to the kitchen +door, but whether she went on to the dining-room or not, Bessie "didn't +notice." + +"Could you see out of the window at the time?" Durham asked. + +"No, sir, I was in the scullery washing up," the girl replied. + +Mrs. Eustace, much to Harding's surprise, was still in the dining-room +on their return. The papers Durham had placed on the table were +untouched. + +"I am sorry to have had to detain you, Mrs. Eustace. For the present I +have nothing further to ask you. These papers you had better take--I +have no doubt they were left for you." + +"What do you mean--left for me?" she exclaimed. + +"A woman of your quick intelligence, Mrs. Eustace, scarcely needs to be +told," he answered, adding, as he turned to Harding, "I would like a few +moments with you in the office." + +In the little ante-room that Eustace had used as his private office, +Durham turned the searchlight of his questions upon Harding. + +"Have you known Mr. Eustace for very long?" + +"I have only known him personally since I came to this branch a few +weeks ago." + +"Did you apply to be sent here?" + +"No. I knew nothing about it until I received instructions to come." + +"Did you know Mrs. Eustace before you came here?" + +"Not as Mrs. Eustace." + +"You knew her before she was married?" + +"Yes." + +"Well?" + +"Yes." + +"Am I right in saying that you knew her very well?" + +"Yes, I did know her very well." + +"Don't think I am attempting to pry into your private affairs, Mr. +Harding. In a case of this kind, the clues that lead to the unravelling +of the mystery often lie on the surface in some trifling circumstance +that seemingly has nothing whatever to do with the main question. You +have already realised, I take it, that we are concerned with something +quite distinct from the ordinary class of crime. Perhaps you have not +had sufficient experience with the criminal class to recognise what was +apparent to me from the beginning, that in this matter we are following +the work of one who is a master of his craft." + +"So far as that goes, I am absolutely dazed," Harding exclaimed. "The +more I hear, the more hopelessly confused I grow." + +"I am not surprised. You are following the work of someone who is, I am +quite satisfied, no ordinary criminal, but one of the most astute, +clever and unscrupulous individuals who ever adopted dishonesty as a +profession. If I ask you questions which appear to you to be irrelevant +and possibly impertinent, will you give me credit for being actuated +only by my sense of duty, and answer those questions as fully and as +accurately as you can?" + +"Certainly," Harding replied. + +"Thank you. Now, will you tell me this--Were you ever engaged to Mrs. +Eustace before she married her present husband?" + +"Yes." + +"Did she break it off, or did you?" + +"She--she married." + +"She married Eustace, while she was practically engaged to you?" + +"While she was actually engaged to me." + +"Then he must have known of your existence?" + +"I assume so, but--well, nothing was ever said about it between us. I +will tell you exactly what happened. The letters I had written to her, +the presents I had given her, and her engagement ring, were returned to +me in a packet through the post with a piece of wedding-cake. Until I +came here and met her, I did not know to whom she was married. Whether +Eustace knew we had once been engaged I do not know. I never referred to +it." + +"You never knew that, in applying for an assistant, he named you +personally to the general manager of the bank and gave as a reason a +long-standing friendship?" + +The look of astonishment which showed on Harding's face was sufficient +answer. + +"Yet it is what happened--I have the information from your general +manager." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MRS. BURKE'S PRESENTIMENT + + +Waroona Downs was fifteen miles from Waroona township by the road, and +ten as the crow flies, the intrusion of a rocky and precipitous range +making it impossible to take the shorter and more direct route. One had +perforce to use the road, and the road turned and twisted where the +level plains were broken by the range, passing, at one stage, through a +narrow gorge hemmed in by steep, rock-strewn heights, on which a growth +of stunted gums flourished sufficiently to hide the jagged boulders from +the road below. + +Half-way through the gorge a stream, having its source in a series of +springs hidden among the tumbled rocks, swept across the track in a +shallow ford. The road dipped to it on both sides, the constant flow of +water having stripped away the soil and left a barrier of naked rock +which dammed back the stream to form a wide pool sheltered among the +hills and fringed by a more luxurious growth of vegetation than clothed +the heights above. + +The last gleam of the setting sun shed a ruddy tinge on the topmost +branches of the trees as Durham reached where the road dipped to the +stream. The subdued light in the pass made the distances elusive and +turned the shadows into subtle mysteries of purpling greys. The air was +full of the scent from the thickly growing vegetation, but, save for the +rippling swish of the water trickling across the track, the silence was +unbroken. + +Durham reined in his horse and sat loosely in his saddle as his glance +swept over the tangled masses of undergrowth, the tumbled boulders +peeping here and there from amid the shadows, the precipitous sides of +the pass, and the broken ruggedness of the ground beyond. But it was not +an appreciation of the picturesque, nor a recognition of the poetry in +landscape which held him. He saw in the place only such a spot as the +men concerned in the robbery of the bank would select for hiding their +booty. Within that maze of rock and tree and mountain, how many nooks +there must be to serve the purpose. + +Had he been occupied only with the matter of the robbery, he would have +started there and then to satisfy himself whether his surmise was +correct, and whether the missing thousands were not lying perhaps a few +yards away, hidden among the undergrowth and boulders. But there was +more than the robbery in his mind; it was not alone to make inquiries on +the subject that he had ridden away on a journey Brennan could have +accomplished equally well. There was a much more personal note in the +affair. + +Durham was in love, and with a woman he had only met once, and of whom +he knew nothing more than her name. + +Travelling one day by coach, he had, for a fellow-passenger, a woman. A +dozen signs showed him that she was a new arrival in the country, unused +to colonial ways, unversed in colonial methods. It was natural for him, +at such places as they stopped for meals, to extend to her a share of +the attention his official position secured for him. It was also natural +for him to drift into conversation with her. + +The companion of his coaching experience was named Burke--Nora +Burke--she had told him. Nora Burke was one of the victims of the bank +robbery, and, apparently, the last person who had had anything to say to +the vanished bank manager. It was more to ascertain whether the heroine +of the coach journey were the same as the owner of Waroona Downs, than +to learn what Eustace had or had not said, that Durham determined to +ride out to the station. + +Even as his glance wandered over the picturesque scene before him, he +was impatient to press on--five miles had yet to be covered before he +reached Waroona Downs. He pulled the bridle with a jerk and rode +steadily until he was clear of the range. Then he put his horse at a +gallop and kept the pace till he saw the gleam of a light from the +window of a house set back from the road. In the dusk he could not make +out all the detail of the place, but Brennan told him the homestead was +the first house he would come to after clearing the range. + +He swung on to the side track leading to the house. As he came up to it +he saw the figure of a woman silhouetted against the light. + +"Is this Mrs. Burke's?" he called out. + +"And if it is, what might you want?" + +His heart leaped as he heard the answer--despite the sharp ring, sharp +almost to harshness, he recognised the voice. It was that of the +companion of his coach journey. + +A low verandah, about three feet from the ground, ran along the front of +the house. It was on the verandah the woman stood. Durham sprang from +the saddle, slipped his bridle over a post, and stepped up the short +flight of stairs. + +The woman had drawn back into the shadow beyond the window. As he +advanced, the light from the lamp within fell upon him, revealing to her +the uniform he wore. + +With a soft, melodious laugh she came forward. + +"Why didn't you say you were a trooper?" she said. "I thought----" + +"I am Sub-Inspector Durham," he said quickly. + +"Oh, indeed," she replied. + +She met his glance without a suggestion of recognition in her own. + +"I have ridden out to ask you one or two questions in regard to the +robbery at the bank, of which I understand you have heard," he said. + +"Ask me questions? And pray what have I to do with the robbery, save +that I am an unfortunate victim of the dishonesty of men you and the +rest of the police ought to be chasing at this very moment? Ask me +questions? It's me who has need to ask them of you. Where are my stolen +papers? Where----" + +"If you will give me your assistance by answering the few questions I +wish to ask you, I have no doubt that your papers, and all the rest of +the stolen property, will very soon be recovered," Durham said. "I +understand you saw Mr. Eustace this forenoon. Will you tell me----" + +"Ask Mr. Eustace himself," she retorted. "He can tell you what I said." + +She stood in front of him, with her hands hanging down hidden in the +folds of her dress. + +"I will not detain you long. I have been travelling since early to-day +and have to ride back to the township to-night." + +"Travelling all day? Sure you must be tired!" she exclaimed. "Come +inside and rest--this affair has so upset me I'm forgetting that Irish +hospitality ought to be the first rule for Irish folk wherever they may +happen to be. Come in, come in." + +She led the way into the room where the lamp was burning. As she stepped +in through the long open window Durham saw she was carrying a heavy +revolver in the half-hidden hand. + +"You were evidently prepared for emergencies," he said. + +She laughed as she laid the weapon on the table. + +"After what happened to-day, Mr. Durham, I'm all nerves. When I heard +you riding to the house I was frightened lest it should be some more of +the scoundrels coming to see what else they could rob from me. You see, +I'm all alone here except for poor old Patsy Malone--he's just a poor +half-witted fool who was with my husband and my husband's father before +him, and he thinks, poor old creature, that wherever I go he has to go +too. I had to bring him out here with me to save the scandal he would +have made. Sure, he's harmless enough anywhere, but what could he do if +some of those thieving scoundrels rode up here and robbed me of the last +few papers and things those bank rascals have not yet had the chance of +stealing? But sit down, Mr. Durham, sit down. I'll tell the old fool to +get you some tea--a cup won't harm you after your long ride. And maybe +you'll take just a bit of something? You'll be hungry." + +She was out of the room before Durham could answer, but he heard her +calling for her ancient retainer and giving him instructions with the +same volubility that she had shown when speaking to him. + +"It won't be a minute, Mr. Durham. Luckily the fire was still in, for +Patsy was only finished washing the dishes scarcely five minutes ago. +And what is the news from the township? Have they caught the robbers +yet? Or do you think they have very far to look for them if they really +want the man who did it? Now there's a foolish thing for me to say! I +forgot. Of course, it's yourself that has come up to catch him. You'll +forgive me, Mr. Durham, but I can assure you I never had so great a +shock to my nerves as I had to-day. What's to become of me now that all +those documents are gone? You see, when I came away my solicitor in +Dublin--you see, he was my husband's solicitor and his father's +solicitor before him, so, as you may judge, he is an old man, though +not so old as old Patsy out there--but, as I was saying, he said----" + +She commenced speaking as she entered the room, continued as she walked +to the table and sat down, and appeared to Durham as though she were +going on indefinitely. + +"Will you pardon me one moment," he said. "I left my horse at----" + +"Of course, of course," she cried, starting up. "Sure the poor beast +will be tired, too, and hungry. Wait, wait, Mr. Durham, I'll send old +Patsy----" + +"Oh, no, don't trouble. I'll just take the saddle off and turn him into +the yard. It's Brennan's horse and had a feed before we started." + +He was out on the verandah before she could leave the room. + +When he returned, Mrs. Burke was watching a bent and decrepit-looking +old man laying the cloth. He gave a furtive glance at Durham as he +entered the room. + +"Go on with your work, Patsy, go on, and don't dawdle. Don't I tell you +Mr. Durham is both tired and hungry? Never mind looking at folk. Go on +now." + +Patsy mumbled an inaudible reply as he stooped over the table. + +"You must bear with him, Mr. Durham," she said as soon as the old man +had left the room. "He's been so long with the Burke family he feels +he's entitled to know everyone who comes into the place. You see what a +fragile old creature he is--and he's all I've got in the place if some +of those scoundrels come and attack us." + +She jumped out of her seat and paced from one end of the room to the +other. + +"Sure I was a fool," she exclaimed. "I ought to have asked Brennan to +come out. He's half Irish, leastways he's Irish born in Australia, and +he'd have understood." + +"I don't think you need be afraid, Mrs. Burke," Durham said quietly. +"You're not likely to be troubled." + +"Oh, you don't know. You're a great strong man and able to fight a dozen +maybe. But a lonely woman--haven't they got my papers, and won't they +think that there's a lot more in the house and money too, maybe, and +jewels? And what is there to keep them from robbing the place and +burning it down over our heads, with only that poor old fool out there +and a poor weak woman like myself to face?" + +He looked at her as she paced to and fro, her handsome figure moving +with the grace of a Delilah and her wonderful eyes flashing a greater +eloquence than her tongue, as her glance from time to time caught his. + +"You need not be afraid," he repeated. "Those responsible for the +robbery of the bank will not be anxious to appear anywhere in public for +some time." + +She stood in the centre of the room where the full glare of the lamp +fell upon her. + +"Oh, I don't know," she said, "I don't know. I would not trust them. +Besides----" + +"Besides what?" + +"Well, I was thinking that nobody knows who they are for certain, and +what difference would it make to them, or to any of us, if they rode +down the main street of Waroona under the very noses of yourself and all +the troopers in Australia?" + +"That is scarcely likely, Mrs. Burke." + +"I don't know," she repeated. "You don't know who they are, or you would +have them inside the walls of the lock-up. Now tell me, have you any +idea?" + +"I cannot tell you that, Mrs. Burke. What I can tell you is to put out +of your mind entirely any fear that they will pay you a visit." + +She shook her head and resumed her walk to and fro. + +"Suppose they come?" she exclaimed, halting at the table opposite to +him. "Suppose they come at dead of night? I might be murdered in my bed +while I was asleep and only know it when I woke up to find myself +killed." + +Durham laughed. + +"It's true, and you know it, Mr. Durham. Sure I never was so shaken and +nervous as I am to-night! Could you send Brennan out when you return to +the township?" + +"I am afraid that is impossible," he said. + +"But why? Sure the fellow has nothing to do but sleep, and he may as +well sleep here as in his own quarters." + +"He is on duty to-night." + +"On duty? Now that the bank's robbed, I suppose he's guarding it? The +horse is stolen, so you lock the door of the empty stable, Mr. Durham; +but where there's a chance of another horse being stolen you let it look +after itself as best it may. And that's what you call doing your duty +and earning the money we poor unfortunate taxpayers have to provide for +you!" + +"I am afraid I cannot discuss that matter with you, Mrs. Burke," he said +coldly. + +"No!" she retorted hotly. "No, you can't. All you can do is to put the +only constable in the place to guard an empty bank----" + +"There is a reason why Brennan should remain in the township to-night. +It is therefore quite impossible for him to come out here--as well as +being unnecessary." + +She flounced round and resumed her rapid striding until old Patsy +appeared with the tea. + +"Make haste, now, Patsy, make haste!" she exclaimed. "Sure you are the +slowest old fool ever set on the earth to delay and keep people +waiting." + +The old man, mumbling to himself, set the meal and left the room. + +"Now, Mr. Durham, just make yourself at home with such scant hospitality +as I can show you. If it was in Ireland, sure I'd give you a meal worth +the eating, but here, with me not knowing whether I'm to own this place +or not, and without a soul about it save useless old Patsy to do a +hand's turn, you'll understand it's only a poor pot-luck sort of spread +at the best I can offer. But such as it is, it is offered with a free +heart, though you are going to leave me to be murdered by the scoundrels +whenever they like to come." + +"You will laugh at your fears to-morrow," Durham said as he drew up to +the table. + +"They are not fears, Mr. Durham. You don't know; you're not Irish, and +so don't understand, but Brennan would. It's not fear. It's what we term +presentiment. Not all the Irish have it, but only some of them. It's my +misfortune to be one of them. I have it. Sure I was tortured the whole +of last night, what with anxiety and sleeplessness and worry, and all +through that wretched bank affair. It was presentiment. I tried to laugh +myself out of it, but as soon as I got into the township this very +morning, what did I hear? Of course, you know. Well, now I have just the +same feeling that to-night there's to be more dirty work by those +thieving scoundrels, and it's here they're coming this time, here--and +I'm to be left to their mercy, just one poor weak, defenceless woman and +an old half-witted fool of a man. It makes me just----" + +She left her sentence uncompleted as she turned away, with a break in +her voice, and stood by the open window leading out on to the verandah. +As Durham glanced at her he saw her shoulders heave and her hands +convulsively clasp. + +Through the chill of her forgetfulness the love impulse surged. + +"If you are really so distressed about the matter," he said quickly, "if +you really fear you will be attacked to-night, I will stay here till the +morning." + +With a magnificent gesture she faced round from the window and came +swiftly towards him, her eyes sparkling, her lips wreathed in a happy +smile. + +"Oh, what a weight of care you have taken from my mind!" she cried. "I +can rest now in peace and comfort without thinking that every moment may +be my last on earth." + +"But if they come they may kill me. What then?" Durham asked, with a +smile which had more than amusement in it. + +She flashed her brilliant glance at him, raising her eyes quickly to his +and drooping them slowly behind the shelter of the dark, heavy lashes. + +"No," she said softly. "You are too brave a man--they will not dare to +come while you are here." + +"And so your presentiment passes into thin air?" he said. + +"It's relieved," she said. "Maybe I'm too timid--that affair has upset +me so much. Now tell me, do you really think you know who the thieves +are?" + +She sat down at the table opposite to him and leaned her chin on her +hands, her loose sleeves falling away from her arms and revealing, to +the best advantage, their rounded whiteness. Into her eyes there came +the flicker of a challenge, the sparkle of mischief which gave a new +character to her face, a different expression to all he had hitherto +seen. There was flippant raillery in her voice as she repeated her +question. + +"Do you really think you will find out who the thieves are?" she +exclaimed. + +"One I already know," he replied, fixing his eyes on her as his square +jaws set firm in his effort to refrain from allowing his features to +relax into the smile which was hovering so near. + +For a moment the lines round her eyes hardened, and the sparkle became a +flash before it melted again as a rippling laugh came from her lips. + +"How terribly stern you look!" she cried in a mocking voice. "Do you +ever think of anything but your work, Mr. Durham?" + +"Not when I have anything at all difficult on hand," he replied. + +"Then this does puzzle you?" + +"It has its difficulties; but, for all that, it is a problem I shall +solve." + +Again the rippling laugh rang through the room. + +"Why, of course! Was there ever a case the police had in hand where they +did not have a clue at the very beginning?" + +"Several," he answered. "A clever, resourceful criminal, Mrs. Burke, +always has the advantage. Where they fail ultimately is in becoming too +sure of themselves and too forgetful of the network of snares laid to +entrap them and always waiting to trip them." + +"I suppose that is so," she said slowly. "I suppose that is so. Poor +things--I can't help pitying them, Mr. Durham. One never knows what lies +behind their wickedness--what it was which first sent them rolling down +the slope that ends--often--on the gallows." + +She shuddered as she spoke, averting her face from him. + +"This is a dismal subject," he exclaimed. "Let us change it. Will you +answer the questions I want to ask you about the bank affair?" + +"Ask them. Oh! ask the wretched things and let me get it over. Sure I +begin to hate the mention of it," she exclaimed as she shrugged her +shoulders impatiently. + +Without apparently heeding her objection, he asked her to say whether +anyone was in the passage as she passed from the dining-room to the +entrance of the bank. + +"Of course there was. Didn't I tell Brennan at once?" she said. + +"Who was it?" + +"His wife." + +"Brennan's?" + +"Brennan's! No! The bank manager's; she was just outside the +door--listening, I'll be bound." + +"You are sure of that?" + +"Sure that she was listening? Well, isn't she a woman? What else would +she be doing?" + +"That is all I want to ask you," he said quietly. + +She looked at him wonderingly. + +"All?" she asked. "You rode out from Waroona merely to ask me that bit +of a question?" + +He nodded. + +"Well, then," she exclaimed, "if that's how you're going to catch the +thieves it's good-bye to my papers." + +The eyes which met his told of anger and indignation. + +"You expected a rigid cross-examination?" he asked, with a smile. + +"I expected questions which would have some bearing on the affair," she +retorted. + +"Your experience in this sort of thing is somewhat limited, Mrs. Burke. +A tangled skein is unravelled by following a mere thread, not by tearing +at the entire mass. I have hold of a thread, and I am following it." + +"And where will it lead you?" + +"Where? It does not matter where so long as the tangle is made +straight." + +"While my papers and my----" + +"You need not be uneasy," he interrupted. "They are just as safe as +though you held them in your hand." + +"Safe for those who stole them," she retorted, with a short, satirical +laugh. + +"Safe for you," he answered. "You have not been long enough in the +country to realise how complete a system of detection we have here. I +have never felt more certain of securing both the culprits and the +stolen property than I am in this case." + +Again she gave a short, satirical laugh. + +"Oh, yes," she said. "Of course. You know exactly where the thieves are +and where they have hidden what was taken and also where they are +hiding. You can put your hands on them whenever you like. One does not +need to come to Australia to hear that sort of romance, Mr. Durham; I +hoped rather that one would not hear it in Australia, but you police are +as capable at blundering and bungling and bluffing here as elsewhere." + +"I am neither bungling nor bluffing," he answered quietly. + +"You are doing both," she replied warmly. "What are you doing here now? +Why have you come bothering me with ridiculous questions? What can I +tell you more than the bank people themselves? Or is it that you think I +am the thief? Why don't you say at once you suspect me--old Patsy and +myself? Sure it would be in keeping with the rest of it--wasting your +time and mine by coming out to ask who was in the passage when I left +the dining-room! What has that to do with my loss? Do you think I care +whether Mrs. Eustace heard what I told her husband? I'd say it to her +face if she likes, just as I said it to his. I told him he ought to be +arrested, and I say so to you. I'd arrest him and his wife and his +assistant and his servant--everyone in the place if I had my way." + +He was watching the light flashing in her eyes, watching and admiring. +The full rich tones of her voice vibrated with the heat of her words, +her bosom rose and fell as in her indignation wave after wave of +expression swept across her face, each one intensifying the charm she +had for him. + +"I suppose you include me in your list of suspects," she blurted out as +he did not speak. "Why don't you say so at once? Your questions +certainly suggest it." + +"Do they?" he asked, with a smile which irritated her. + +"Yes, they do. What else do they suggest? It would be quite in keeping +with the rest of the business--you riding out here to ask me pointless +questions while the people most likely to have been concerned in the +robbery are left alone. They are known, I suppose you will say, where I +am a stranger, someone you have never seen before----" + +"You are wrong," he interrupted, still smiling; "I have seen you +before." + +Her eyes concentrated on his with keen intensity. + +"When? Where?" she asked sharply. + +"We were fellow-passengers by a coach four or five months back. You have +forgotten me, but I"--now that the personal note had been struck, the +note he wished so much to sound and yet shrank from, he was almost +carried away by it; by an effort he checked himself, and instead of +telling her all that the meeting had meant for him, he added, "I rarely +forget a face when I have once seen it." + +She flashed a swift glance at him, reading in his eyes, in his face, in +his attitude, the confirmation of what she knew from the tone of his +voice. + +"But you--you do not--remember me," he said slowly as she did not +reply. He saw the glance, saw the fleeting questioning light in her +eyes, and with the fatuity bred of love-blindness, misread it. + +"I do remember--distinctly," she answered softly. "I recognised you as +you came on to the verandah. I thought it was you who had forgotten--or +did not wish to remember." + +As she spoke the last words softly, demurely, she raised her eyes to his +and looked steadily at him with no sign on her face of her recent +indignation. + +"I not wish to remember? I not wish to remember you?" he exclaimed in a +ringing tone. "Why--it was because I have never ceased to remember that +I came here to-night. Your name was mentioned at Waroona--it was the +only clue you gave me when we parted, the only clue I had to follow when +I tried to find you, tried to trace you every day since then. I have +never ceased to seek for you, never ceased to think of you, nor to +remember the day I met you. Had you not been here to-night, had I found +it was someone else with a similar name, I should not have forgotten +you--I shall never do that--never." + +She sat back in her chair, her eyes downcast, a slight frown puckering +her brows. He saw the frown as she spoke and it checked his words, but +he continued to watch her steadily, noting the graceful, yet seemingly +unstudied way in which the wavy mass of her luxuriant hair was coiled on +her head, the clear whiteness of her skin, the heavy fringe of her +drooping lashes. Even as he watched she raised her eyes to his. + +For one brief moment she allowed them to rest, filled with an +earnestness and depth of softness that made his pulses leap again. + +Impulsively he stretched out his hand to her across the table. + +She lowered her glance, and a faint smile flickered round her lips. + +"I must away," she said softly, as she arose. "You will need a good +night's rest after your long and wearying ride." + +He pushed away his chair, as he started abruptly to his feet. The warmth +of his impulse went cold. + +"I shall start with the dawn or before it," he said, keeping his eyes +averted from the glamour of her face. "I have a riding-cloak. I will +take this hammock-chair on to the verandah. Don't let me disturb you." + +"But you cannot go in the morning without a bite," she replied. + +"I shall require nothing," he said brusquely. "I shall be away before +you are awake. I am merely staying to set your mind at rest on the +question of the house being visited and robbed. Don't let me disturb +you--or detain you." + +She bent her head slowly and gracefully. + +"As you will," she replied in a gentle voice. "Good night, Mr. Durham." + +Without waiting for a reply she turned and went from the room, closing +the door quietly after her. + +He stood where she had left him, staring fixedly at the closed door. + +"I was a fool to come, a greater fool to speak," he muttered savagely. +"What satisfaction is there in knowing who she is, when----" + +He swung round petulantly, diving his hand into his pocket for a pipe. +When it was filled and lighted, he dragged his chair out on to the +verandah, lowered the lamp flame to a glimmer, pushed-to the window, and +lay back in the chair, blowing furious clouds of smoke out upon the +night and staring, with unseeing eyes, into the dark. + +But always before him there floated the vision of the speaking grey-blue +eyes looking at him from the shelter of their dark-fringed lashes; +always in his brain he heard the gentle melody of her voice as she had +last spoken to him, and always there came to taunt and goad him the +jarring memory of the half-mocking way in which she had pushed back upon +himself the frank revelation he had made. But though it jarred, it had +no power to lessen the fascination she exercised over him. Despite her +rebuff, despite the seeming hopelessness of his infatuation, it held +him. The more he tried to force it back, the stronger it grew; the +greater, the more beautiful and more lovable did Mrs. Burke appear to +be. + +The jarring note passed from his memory. Under the soothing quiet of the +night and the stillness of the bush, looming dark and mysterious against +the sky, scarcely less sombre with only the light of the stars to +illumine it, his fancy was filled with the image he had carried in his +mind for so many months. The weariness of an arduous day added its +softening influence, and he drifted out upon the sea of dreams and +thence into a deep slumber, while yet his pipe was unfinished. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE FACE AT THE WINDOW + + +While Harding sat talking to Brennan in the office, Bessie came to him +with a note. + +"Mrs. Eustace asked me to give you this, sir," the girl said, as she +handed it to him at the door. + +He tore open the envelope. A single sheet of paper was enclosed, on +which was written, "For the sake of the bygone days, come to me." + +"Where is Mrs. Eustace?" he asked. + +"She's in her room, Mr. Harding, in her little sitting-room." + +It was one of the rooms where he had never been, a tiny chamber at the +far end of the passage which she had made into a boudoir. Once he had +seen into it through the open door, seen the daintiness with which it +was decorated, a daintiness redolent of her as he had known her in the +days when, for him, the world held no other woman. + +And she had chosen this as the place where they should meet! + +He knocked at the door, and heard her voice answer, bidding him to come +in. She was sitting in a cane lounge-chair, listless, pale, and +weary-eyed. + +As he entered she gave him one swift glance and then looked away. + +"Do you wish to see me, Mrs. Eustace?" he asked in a cold, formal voice. + +She did not reply at once, but sat with her head bowed and her hands +loosely clasped in her lap. + +"If you will say what you wish to as quickly as you can, I shall be +obliged," he said. "Brennan is in the office, and I have some matters to +arrange with him." + +Her head was raised slowly, steadily, until her face was turned full +towards him. + +"Will you please arrange them first?" she replied. "I want to say +something which may take some time, and I--I would not inconvenience the +bank." + +"I would rather hear what you have to say first, Mrs. Eustace." + +She shook her head. + +"It is not a matter I can sum up in a few brief sentences," she replied. +"If you cannot arrange things with Brennan and then come to me here, +pray forget I mentioned anything about it." + +He moved uneasily as she averted her face and sat back in her chair. + +"I will see what I can do," he said shortly, and left the room. + +When he returned to the office he found Brennan talking to Bessie, who +had brought him some supper and a couple of blankets with which to make +a bed on the floor. Brennan nodded towards them as Bessie disappeared. + +"You know the idea of my being here at all, don't you?" he asked. + +"To tell you the truth, I don't," Harding replied. + +"The Sub-Inspector fancies someone may try to get back to learn what he +can about our doings. You know who will most likely be asked, and so you +see what it means when, as soon as I am here, and before I say a word +about staying, these things are brought in. As if there is likely to be +any sleep for me with the chance of the Sub-Inspector riding up any hour +and catching me off duty. But it shows what's in the wind, doesn't it?" + +"Mrs. Eustace has asked me to discuss something with her," Harding said +quietly. "She knows you are here to-night." + +"Oh, yes, Mr. Harding. She knows that, I've no doubt, but how did she or +the girl know I was to be on duty here all the night? Don't you see? +Supposing the Sub-Inspector is right, and a certain person we know wants +to hear all that had happened since he went away, is he likely to come +while I am here? It is not difficult to put a lighted lamp in a window, +or to leave a blind pulled up or drawn down, is it? Anything of the kind +is enough to give him a warning that the coast is clear or that there is +danger ahead." + +"Oh, but we can easily stop that," Harding exclaimed. "We can easily +prevent any signal being used." + +"If you know what the signal is," Brennan said. "But if you don't know, +what are you to do?" + +"We shall have to watch." + +"That's it, we shall have to watch and take care nobody knows it," +Brennan replied in a low tone. "Have you a revolver?" + +"No. The one we kept in the bank was stolen from the drawer with the +money." + +"Then slip this into your pocket," Brennan said, as he passed a bright +nickel-plated "bull-dog" to Harding. "It's loaded in all the chambers +and has a snap trigger; but it's no good for a long shot, though it +makes as much noise as a service carbine. Don't hesitate to use it if +anything happens--the noise will let me know, and there's no danger of +hitting anyone with it unless you are a better shot than I am." + +"But where are you going?" + +Brennan jerked his head towards the door. + +"You see me off the premises and then tell the girl to fetch those +blankets away again. After that, keep your eyes open and rest assured +that as soon as you let off the barker I've given you, I shall not be +far off. If there is any arrangement such as I have suggested, my going +now will put them off their guard and our gentleman will get the signal +to make his call as expected. Bringing in those blankets has given the +game away--to me it shows just what is in the wind." + +When he had seen Brennan off the premises, Harding told Bessie to remove +the blankets from the office, and returned to the little room. + +The door was ajar when he reached it, but there was no answer to his +rap. He pushed it open and entered. Mrs. Eustace was not there. + +He turned, and came face to face with her as he stood in the doorway, +though he had not heard her approach. + +"I did not hear you coming," he exclaimed. + +"No, I am wearing light shoes," she answered. "But won't you sit down? +Have you made all your arrangements? I don't want to begin to say what I +wish if you will have to go away before I have finished." + +"There is nothing to call me away now. Brennan has gone," he said, as he +took the chair she indicated. + +"Before I begin, I must ask you to forgive me for mentioning the subject +at all," she said slowly. + +She sat facing him and, up to that moment, had kept her eyes fixed on +him; but as she ceased speaking she glanced aside until her head was +bowed as it had been previously. He took advantage of the opportunity to +give one quick look round. The chair in which he sat was so placed that +the profile of the person occupying it was thrown by the light of the +lamp directly upon the window-blind. The window faced the bush at the +back of the bank. + +He moved his chair until his shadow fell on the wall, but then the lamp +was between her and himself, and he could not watch her face. + +"I will take this chair," he said shortly, as he stepped to the one +where she had been sitting when he first came to the room. From it he +commanded not only a complete view of her, but also out of the window, +for the blind, pulled down to the full extent, was slightly askew, and +left a space between it and the window-pane. Through that space he could +see across the yard to the fence running round the allotment, and beyond +it to the dark line of the bush, rendered the darker at the moment by +the soft sheen of the rising moon showing above it. + +A silence followed his movement, a silence during which she fidgeted +uneasily and impatiently. + +"You do not answer," she said presently. "Shall I go on?" + +"I am waiting for you to do so," he replied. + +"You will forgive me for mentioning this subject?" + +"You have not mentioned any subject yet, Mrs. Eustace. I don't know what +it is you wish to talk about." + +"I am afraid it is very distasteful to you. I am not surprised if it is, +but--if you knew everything in connection with it, you might think +differently. That is why I want to tell you." + +"Yes," he said indifferently, as she paused. + +"You do not want to speak of it," she said again. "But I must explain--I +ought to have done so directly you came up here. I want to explain my +conduct to you when I returned your----" + +"There is no need," he interrupted her. "That matter was at an end at +once. There is no benefit to be gained by attempting to revive it." + +"I do not seek to revive it," she retorted, colouring at his words. +"Surely if I wish to set straight what I know is not straight, I am not +seeking to revive it? I wish to make one thing clear to you. You have +not known Charlie as long as I have. Neither do you know him as well as +I do. In the face of the accusations made by that police inspector +anything may be said or suspected." + +He did not reply, and she went on. + +"You, hearing Charlie painted in the blackest colours, are not likely to +raise any protest either to yourself or to anyone else. You will rather +believe all ill of him and will most likely impute things to him he +never did. One thing I do not want blamed on to him. Those letters and +things which were sent back to you, I sent--I sent them entirely +myself--Charlie did not send them--I sent them." + +She looked up at him quickly and then away as though she feared to meet +his eyes. + +"Is that all you wished to tell me?" he asked. + +"I wished to tell you--all about it. I do not want you to blame Charlie. +It was not his fault--nothing was his fault. I was a silly, flighty girl +and fancied myself in love with everyone, whereas, really, I never cared +at all, not until I met him. I don't want you to think he was to blame, +because, if you do, you may want to be revenged on him, and now you have +this opportunity you may take it. If you believe me and realise he had +nothing whatever to do with my changing my mind, more than to come into +my life, as he did, then you may sympathise with him in his present +trouble and save him all you can." + +She did not attempt to look at him again as she spoke. He leaned back in +his chair and turned his glance away from her, away to the space between +the window and the blind. The first glint of the moon was stealing over +the dark line of the bush and spreading over the open country between it +and the line of fence. He could see, indistinctly, what seemed to be a +heavy shadow moving slowly away from the trees. + +"It is a subject on which I would rather say nothing, Mrs. Eustace," he +said presently, without removing his eyes from the window. "If you wish +to speak about it, and you think it will ease your mind in any way, I +will listen to all you wish to say. But do not expect me to reply to +you. Do not expect me to express any opinion. I do not wish to appear +harsh, but I must tell you that so far as I am concerned, the curtain +was rung down upon the last act of my romance when my letters were +returned--was rung down to remain down for ever." + +"I was afraid it would be a distasteful subject to you," she said; "but +I must talk about it--I must. I have wanted to tell you for so long--I +wanted to write to you and explain after the things were sent off, +but--but it was so difficult. I felt how horrible it was of me, how +horrible and how mean, never to say one word, but just throw everything +in your face after--after all you had done for me. I deserve to suffer +what I am going through now--I deserve everything. It was so +contemptible of me to allow myself to be--to do what I did," she added +quickly, and he felt rather than saw the way she glanced at him, for he +was still staring out through the narrow opening between the window and +the blind, away at the curious dark shadowy patch which was slowly +moving further and further away from the line of thickly growing trees. + +"Won't you say one word? Not even that you forgive me?" + +Her voice was soft and gentle--the voice he remembered having heard so +often in the bygone days--the days for whose sake she had appealed to +him to come to her. He leaned forward in his chair, staring through the +little slit of space between the blind and the window, intent upon +distinguishing what it was he saw, resenting what he believed to be her +efforts to beguile him. + +"Do you hate me so much?" + +Scarcely above a whisper the words reached him, a whisper with tears in +it, and his heart shrank at the sound. He turned quickly towards her. + +She started impulsively to her feet and held out her hands to him. + +"Fred!" she exclaimed. + +He sat unmoved, for the shadow in the distance was growing more and more +distinct, and the suspicion with which he regarded her drove away every +particle of commiseration, and made him blind to the emotion welling up +in her eyes, hostile to the pathos in her voice. + +She clasped her hands and let them drop limply in front of her as she +sank into her chair again. + +"Oh, I am so lonely, so lonely," she murmured, "I don't know what to do. +If you would only help me. I know I behaved horribly to you, vilely; but +surely--surely you have some pity for me in my misfortune. I have no one +to turn to--no one--no one. If you would only help me to understand--if +you would only talk the matter over with me, it would be some relief." + +"There can be no benefit in talking over what has passed--the best thing +is to forget it ever happened. That is what I have striven to do. If you +returned my letters of your own free will, you were merely exercising a +right to which you were perfectly entitled. You preferred Eustace to +me, that is all." + +"All?" she echoed in a tone of amazement. "All? Is that what you +thought? Is that what you think?" + +"What else can I think?" he retorted. "If you chose for yourself----" + +She sprang up and faced him with widely opened, gleaming eyes. + +"I did not," she cried. "I did not. There! Now you know. It was a----" + +She stopped abruptly, staring with eyes so full of entreaty that he +looked away from her lest the emotion roused by her words, by her +attitude and her eyes, carried him away at a moment when he required +above all things complete self-control. To avoid her eyes he turned once +more to the window--the moving shadow had grown clearer--it had split in +twain, and he could distinctly see the forms of two horsemen riding +swiftly towards the bank. + +The sight sent a chill through him; he recoiled from the woman whose +pleading a moment before had thrilled him, recoiled from her as from +some reptile. While she was appealing to him, pleading with him, the man +she was expecting--whom she was even ready to vilify in order to throw +dust in the eyes of the one who was a menace to him--was coming in +response, probably, to a signal given by the clear, lamp-lit +window-blind. + +He faced her where she stood, his eyes hard and cold, his mouth set +stern. + +"I prefer not to hear anything further on the subject," he said in a +measured tone. "It is a subject which does not now concern me." + +"Fred!" + +Despite his anger, despite the resentment the spectacle of those two +riders had roused within him, the anguish in her voice cut him. Her +eyes, fixed on his, were filled with intense sorrow, her face went +ashen. + +"Oh, Fred! I----" + +She swayed as she stood, staggered, and sank into the chair between the +lamp and the window, flinging her arms out over the table and burying +her head upon them as she gave vent to a fit of sobbing. But as she +moved, her shadow swept across the blind. + +He looked out again upon the moonlit scene--the horsemen had passed from +the field of vision. He leaned forward to get a wider view, but there +was no further sign of them--it was as though the shadow passing across +the blind had been a danger signal on which they had acted immediately +it was given. + +He wondered whether Brennan had seen them, whether he was also on the +look out or was waiting hidden somewhere until he heard the warning +shot. Harding was to fire in the event of anything happening. Ought he +to fire now? Ought he to give the alarm or wait, lest the sound of the +shot warned the two horsemen as well as alarmed Brennan? + +Leaning forward, with his attention riveted as he gazed through the +narrow slit, he scarcely noticed that Mrs. Eustace had ceased to +sob--the sudden appearance of her head, in shadow, upon the blind, made +him start to his feet. + +"Put out that lamp," he exclaimed, but before she could move he was past +her and had blown out the flame. + +"Fred! What is it?" she asked in an agitated whisper. + +"Silence," he said fiercely, as he crept back to the window and stooped +to peer into the night. + +Along the fence which formed the boundary of the bank's ground, the +fence Durham had pointed out as the one over which Eustace must have +made his escape, he saw the figure of a man stealthily creeping. + +He thrust his hand into the pocket where he had slipped the revolver +Brennan had given him. + +"Fred! Fred! What do you see?" he heard Mrs. Eustace whisper, and in the +dim obscurity he saw her come to his side. + +"Quiet," he said harshly. + +Both her hands, trembling, touched his arm. + +"Tell me," she whispered; "I will be brave. Who is it you see?" + +The thin streak of moonlight falling through the narrow space between +the blind and the window glinted on the bright barrel of the revolver, +as he drew it from his pocket. + +She fell on her knees beside him, her arms flung round him, her voice in +his ear. + +"Oh, Fred--no, not that! Is it Charlie? Oh, don't--don't----" + +He pushed her back roughly, his eyes straining to catch another glimpse +of the creeping figure which had gone out of sight as he raised his +revolver ready to fire. + +"Oh, no, no! Don't shoot him! Don't, Fred, don't! He----" + +Her words ended in a shriek, for even as she spoke there appeared +outside the window, showing clear with the moonlight falling full upon +it, the face of a yellow-bearded man. Harding wrested himself free from +her clinging arms, leapt to the window, and tore the blind away. + +The form of the man, running swiftly, was disappearing amongst the +bushes. + +Heedless of the glass in front of him, of the terrified woman at his +knees, Harding raised his revolver and fired. + +As the shivered glass crashed to the ground, the report of other shots, +fired in rapid succession, came from outside, and across the patch of +grass, firing as he ran, Brennan dashed after the runaway. + +Harding scrambled through the broken window and ran after him. + +From behind the clustering shrubs which formed a screen in front of the +chicken-run, there came the sound of horses galloping. Brennan stopped +as he heard it. When Harding caught up to him, he was rapidly reloading +his revolver. + +"He's slipped us," he cried. "The sub-inspector has my horse, and +ordered me not to leave the bank till he came back. And there's that +scoundrel riding away from under our noses!" + +"Did you see him?" Harding exclaimed. + +"See him? Wasn't I crawling on him round the house when she screamed +out to him, and you fired? Another two minutes and I had him, yellow +beard and all. Now we know who the man was who called at the bank to +cash a cheque after hours. Anyhow, I'll have the woman safe before she +can do any more mischief. I'll arrest her right away, and the girl as +well. They're both in the game, if you ask me." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +SNARED + + +Durham awakened with a sense of oppression. + +For the moment he could not recall where he was. It seemed as though +some sound had disturbed him, yet before he opened his eyes he realised +the utter silence which reigned. + +It was the silence which brought back to him where he was. He had fallen +asleep as he lay in the hammock chair on the verandah at Waroona Downs. + +In his half-awakened state he made an effort to sit up. But he could not +move--arms, legs, body were held as though in paralysis. He could only +open his eyes. + +Before him, in the faint light shed by the down-turned lamp, he saw the +figure of a man, leaning slightly forward, clad in the attire of an +ordinary bushman--an unbuttoned jacket hanging loosely open over a +cotton shirt; tweed trousers secured at the waist by a narrow strap; +travel-stained leggings and heavy boots with well-worn spurs dangling at +the heels. The head was covered by a soft felt hat pulled forward, +shading the upper part of the face, while the lower was hidden by a +thick growth of yellow beard. The hair, where it showed under the hat, +was fair almost to whiteness and close-cropped. Eyebrows and lashes of +the same light hue gave a sinister expression to the eyes. + +Durham recognised him at once as the man Eustace had declared called at +the bank after office hours. + +Mrs. Burke's presentiment had come true! The men from whom he had so +lightly offered to protect her had stolen upon him while he slept. + +With a frantic plunge he strove to break free, at the same moment +opening his mouth to shout a warning. But even as his lips parted, a +hand came from behind him and placed a soft muffling substance over his +mouth. + +"Tie it--tight," the man in front said in a low whisper. + +Durham felt the passing of a thong round and round his head. He tried to +raise his legs to kick the floor of the verandah, but they were too +securely fastened to the sides of the chair. He could move neither hand +nor foot. He was as helpless as though he were dead. + +The man with the yellow beard bent nearer. + +"We'll see you again--later," he whispered. "That's a good horse you +were riding--Government property, I think, it was. Well, it has changed +owners." + +He moved noiselessly away and Durham was left alone. Bracing his +muscles, he strained at the cords which bound him, trying to writhe +himself free. The chair creaked. In a moment the man with the yellow +beard was back. + +"If you wriggle for a year you won't get free," he said in a harsh +whisper. "But I tell you what you will get; that's a crack on the head +to keep you quiet. Do you hear? You lay still, or there'll be an ugly +bump on your skull." + +He stepped out of sight, and Durham heard the window he had pulled-to +quietly pushed open. A rage of mingled anger and jealousy swept over +him. Regardless of the threat, he plunged and struggled till the veins +in his head were bursting, and he smothered as the muffler over his +mouth worked up and covered his nostrils. + +Suddenly a sound cut through the night which sent his blood cold. + +From within the house there came the wild, terrified shriek of a woman. +A hoarse shout blended with it, and then the report of a revolver-shot +echoed through the place. + +For a few minutes there was silence, deathly, nerve-destroying silence. +Durham, trembling with mortification, strained his ears to catch some +further sound. + +Two shots in quick succession rang out, followed by a rush of scuffling +feet, and on the air there came the thud of galloping horses' hoofs. + +"They're off, Patsy! The rifle, quick! Quick! Oh, you old fool, be +quick! They'll be too far!" + +Durham heard the words screamed in a high shrill voice. Thereafter he +could only hear the hum of voices dimly. + +Presently they came clearer. + +"I tell you only two got away, three horses and two men. I saw them. +The other's somewhere. Sure I hope I put a bullet through him, and I +believed him when he said he was a police inspector. Oh, what a country +to come to. To think that the dirty--oh, look out, Patsy! Look out, you +old fool!" + +The noise of a shot rang through Durham's head as though a pistol had +been fired close to his ear. He saw a splinter fly from the verandah +post as the bullet glanced off. + +"I've hit him! I've hit him! See if he's dead, Patsy. Don't be +frightened. I tell you I'll cover him if he moves." + +The light spread clear as the lamp was turned up, and Durham heard the +slow-moving footsteps of the old man approaching. + +"Bedad! It's all tied up he is!" + +Quick footsteps came, and as Durham turned his eyes he saw, looking down +at him, with her hair flying loose, her cheeks white, and her eyes wild +with excitement, Nora Burke. + +"What has happened? What does it mean?" she said slowly. "Patsy, get a +knife and--no, let me." + +She reached and caught hold of the cord tied round Durham's legs. + +"Get a knife, Patsy. It is too tight to untie." + +Obedient, the old man brought her the table-knife Durham had used at his +supper, and with it she cut through some of the cords. + +"Can you move now? Oh, it's a gag they put on you!" she exclaimed, as +she leaned over him and cut the thong which held the muffler so +securely across his mouth. + +"Free my arm, and give me the knife," he said, as soon as he could +speak. "I will cut quicker." + +She placed the knife in his hand when she had slipped the cord twined +round his arm. He could scarcely close his fingers on it, so stiff had +they become, and he fumbled clumsily before he had cut himself free. +Then he rose to his feet and stood unsteadily. + +Patsy had vanished; Mrs. Burke watched him from the shadow at the side +of the window. + +"You saw them?" he exclaimed. "It was you who fired?" + +Before she could answer his eye caught sight of something white lying by +the chair. He stooped and picked it up. It was what had been used to +muffle his cries, and he saw it was a handkerchief. + +Instinctively he opened it out, stepped into the full glare of the light +and ran his eyes along the edge. At one corner a name, boldly written, +showed clear. + +"Charles N. Eustace." + +He could not repress an exclamation as he read the name. + +"What is it?" she cried, as she came over to him. + +She gripped his arm as she also read the name. + +"Eustace!" she cried. "Eustace--then it was he who----" + +She stopped abruptly, staring at him. + +"Did you recognise him?" he asked. + +"It was dark--I only saw them against the sky. They had their backs to +me as they rode off. I mean it was Eustace who robbed the bank." + +"When did you come to that conclusion?" + +"I said so at first--I told Brennan. Why did you not arrest him? I told +Brennan to go in and arrest him when I left, before you arrived." + +"Brennan went to do so, Mrs. Burke." + +"Then--how could Eustace be here to-night if Brennan arrested him?" + +"Brennan did not arrest him. By the time he reached the dining-room at +the bank it was empty. Eustace had disappeared. This handkerchief is the +first token of him that has come to light since you saw him." + +"Disappeared?" + +Her eyes opened to their utmost as she uttered the word. It was as +though she could speak nothing more, for she stood staring, her clasped +hands pressed to her bosom, her dishevelled hair flowing in great masses +and framing her face with its dark folds. + +"Disappeared--until to-night," he said. "This handkerchief completes the +chain of circumstances which points to Eustace as the person mainly +concerned in the robbery." + +"How sad, oh, how sad, for his poor wife," she exclaimed. "Why is it, +Mr. Durham, that the woman always has to suffer while the man goes +free?" + +"The man will not go free. There is a net spread for him he cannot +possibly escape. Tell me, which way did they ride?" + +"You are not going after them? You must not do that--you must not face +that risk." + +"Risk is the pastime of my life, Mrs. Burke. But in this there is no +risk. I shall follow their tracks until I find where they are hiding." + +"No, no! You must not go. They will hear you coming; they will see you +and then--think! You, who have only just escaped them! What mercy would +they show?" + +"The mercy I would show them," he answered fiercely. "They have stolen +the revolver from my belt. Will you lend me the one you have?" + +"It is the only one I have. What shall I do if they come back and I am +without it?" + +"Then I must go without." + +He moved away, but before he had gone two steps she was at his side, her +hand on his arm, her face turned appealingly to him. + +"No, you must not! Mr. Durham, I ask you. Don't go. You may be throwing +your life away. They may come back. Don't leave me alone in the place. +Don't, please don't. For my sake, for my sake, stay till it is light." + +Gently he took her hand in his and lifted it from his arm. + +"You who have been so brave to-night, would not have me show cowardice," +he said softly. "These scoundrels must not remain at large a moment +longer than we can help. There is more now at stake than the bank's +money--I shall not rest till they are captured, for only then shall I +feel you are safe." + +"But you must not go now." + +Her disengaged hand was laid gently, caressingly, on his shoulders; her +face, showing white amid the tumbled mass of her tresses, was close to +his, so close he could feel the faint fanning of her breath and catch +the subtle perfume from her hair. The fingers of the hand he held +gripped his in a clinging, lingering clasp; the hand on his shoulder +pressed firmer; she leaned against him. + +"You must not go--you must not--for my sake," she murmured. + +The head drooped till the tumbled tresses met the caressing hand; one +pale cheek was so close to his he had but to bend his head to touch it +with his lips. His arm slipped round her, drawing her soft, yielding +form yet closer to him, and over him there swept a wave of emotion which +in another moment had carried him away upon its crest, away from duty, +away from the prosaic material world, away from everything but the woman +he held. + +"You must not say that," he said hoarsely. "You must not. You are the +last who should try to turn me from my duty." + +"Oh, but I cannot--I cannot let you go--it may be to your death. Wait +till day comes," she answered. "There are horses in the paddock. Patsy +can fetch you one. If you go now you will only wander aimlessly in the +dark while they may turn upon you, if they do not get farther and +farther away. Stay till the dawn." + +"It will not be dawn for many hours." + +"Why, what time do you think it is? It is nearly four." + +Nearly four! Then he had slept right through the night so soundly that +on waking he thought he had only dozed. + +"You will not go? Tell me you will not go?" she whispered, and he felt +her hands touch him lightly. + +He drew back, fearful lest her fascination again overmastered him. + +"Show me which way they went," he said brusquely, as he walked to the +steps leading down from the verandah. + +As he reached them he turned. Mrs. Burke had drawn back into the shadow +beyond the open window. + +"Will you show me which way they went?" he repeated. + +He saw her hide her face in her hands, and the sound of a choked sob +came to him. In a moment he was at her side. + +She shrank to the wall as he approached, raising her head and shaking +back the loose locks which streamed across her face. + +"Go!" she exclaimed. "Go! Leave me! What am I that you should care? Only +a poor, weak, sad, and lonely woman. Forget----" + +"Do not say that," he answered quickly, his voice vibrating with +passion. "You--you do not know--I would give my life----" + +"I will not give you cause to say I kept you from your duty, Mr. +Durham," she went on. "Forget my weakness. I promise you it shall never +occur again." + +She slipped past him and stood for a moment at the window, just long +enough to flash one look of resentment at him before she passed into the +room and extinguished the lamp. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE NOTE THAT FAILED + + +When Durham, having walked in from Waroona Downs, arrived at the bank, +he found the township in a state of excitement bordering on panic. + +The noise of the firing during the night had brought everyone who was +awake at the time rushing to the scene. Men had mounted their horses and +raced away in the direction the fugitives were supposed to have taken, +returning hours afterwards with the information that no trace of them +could be discovered, beyond the prints of their horses' hoofs, here and +there, right up to the line of rocky rises which formed the commencement +of the range. + +Durham brushed aside the volley of questions directed at him as to how +it came about that he had returned on foot. Passing into the bank he +asked Harding to come with him into the manager's office, and told +Brennan to clear everyone else out of the building. + +As soon as he had heard Harding's account of what had happened, he +produced the handkerchief bearing Eustace's name. + +"Can you identify that?" he asked. "It is marked, but I want to know if +you can recognise it apart from the name it bears?" + +"It is like the handkerchiefs I use," Harding answered, as he pulled one +out of his pocket. "Eustace and I ordered some to be sent up, and we +divided them, taking half each." + +"Did you mark them?" + +"Mrs. Eustace did that for us. Is the name on this?" + +He turned it round until he saw the name. + +"Yes, that is one of Eustace's," he said. + +"What time do you think it was when you saw that man's face at the +window?" Durham inquired. + +"Between half-past nine and ten--nearer ten probably." + +"Was the face familiar?" + +"It was, but I cannot recall where I have seen it before. It struck me +as being a familiar face disguised. It was not Eustace's." + +"You feel sure of that?" + +"I'm quite sure. I wish you had been here to have seen it." + +"I did see it." + +"But you were at Waroona Downs." + +"So I was. It was there I saw it. That man and his companion stuck the +house up. I was asleep on the verandah and they must have crept on me, +for when I awakened I was bound hand and foot. The man you describe was +standing in front of me. When I attempted to shout to warn Mrs. Burke, a +handkerchief was pressed over my mouth and tied by someone who kept +behind me. That is the handkerchief which was used. Who would you say +tied it?" + +"I should suspect Eustace, of course; or do you think the man with the +beard was Eustace?" + +Durham shook his head. + +"No," he said. "The description I have of Eustace does not agree at all +with the build and general appearance of that man. If Eustace were there +at the time he must have kept behind me. Is Mrs. Burke a woman who talks +much?" + +"Talks? She does nothing else. She tells everyone everything." + +"Then it is no use my trying to keep this episode of the handkerchief +quiet?" + +"Not if she knows anything about it. She will tell everyone about it +directly she comes to the township." + +"Oh, she knows about it. She is a plucky woman. She drove them off, +firing at them; then she discovered me on the verandah and nearly shot +me into the bargain. When I was set free this handkerchief was on the +verandah and she saw it as soon as I picked it up." + +"Then everyone in the township will hear about it," Harding said. "She +is to come in this afternoon to meet Mr. Wallace." + +"When is he due?" + +"About noon he ought to be here." + +"Then I'll ride out and meet him," Durham said shortly. "Is there anyone +in particular who was with the crowd last night to whom I can go for +further information?" + +"Mr. Gale was one." + +"I'll see him," Durham said, and left the bank, finding Gale in the +street discussing the latest raid with half a dozen other men of the +town. He left them at once and came over to the sub-inspector. + +"Look here, it's no use wasting more time," he exclaimed warmly. "We all +say there is only one thing to be done if those scoundrels are to be +caught. We must scour the ranges. I'll volunteer and so will everyone +else in the place. The only hope is to ride them down." + +"Quite useless," Durham replied curtly. + +"It's the only course to adopt," Gale retorted. "We're all bushmen here +and know what's the proper thing to do. You can't apply town methods to +bush-rangers, you know. You may be the smartest man in the force at +catching city burglars and spielers, but you are out of your element in +the bush. There's only one thing to be done--track them down." + +"How many are there?" + +"Well, two for certain--probably more." + +"Probably more--exactly. And most probably one or other of the remainder +is in the town acting as a spy for the others. If that is so, what will +happen when you set out in force? Everyone would volunteer, as you say, +and one of the number would give warning of what was being done. What +chance would there be then of making a capture? You tried last night. +What was the result?" + +"We found their tracks." + +"Then why didn't you follow them?" + +"Because with the crowd riding all over the ground we lost them, +and----" + +"Just so," Durham interrupted. "It is what would happen again if your +suggestion were carried out. This is a one man's job, Mr. Gale. Directly +I want assistance I will come to you, but in the meantime I must ask you +to keep your fellow-townsmen from interfering." + +He went on to the police-station, leaving Gale to convey his refusal of +assistance to the men who were keen on taking the matter into their own +hands. The refusal was received with open resentment and the group moved +towards the station to argue the matter out with the sub-inspector, but +before they reached it Durham rode out of the yard and set his horse to +a gallop along the road leading to the railway. + +"It's all right, boys, he's got a clue," one of the men exclaimed +scornfully. "He's going to catch them at the junction!" + +"Give him a cheer for luck," another cried, and the ironical shout +reached Durham as he galloped. But he paid no heed to it, riding on +steadily till he was away from the town and some miles along the road +when he saw, coming towards him, a pair-horse buggy accompanied by a +couple of mounted troopers. As they came nearer he recognised Wallace in +the buggy. The troopers drew to the side of the track as he reined in +beside the vehicle. + +"Come back along the road a bit," he exclaimed, as he got off his horse +and gave the bridle to one of the troopers. + +"Why are these troopers with you?" he asked when he and Wallace had +walked out of hearing. + +"I have close on thirty thousand pounds in the buggy. I have had to +bring with me not only sufficient funds to enable the bank to carry on +its ordinary business, but a further twenty-five thousand in gold to +carry through the purchase of Waroona Downs from Mr. Dudgeon." + +"Why is it necessary for all this gold to be used? I did not care to ask +Mr. Harding, but if it is not a bank secret----" + +"Oh, it is no secret," Wallace exclaimed. "Mr. Dudgeon had a quarrel +with the bank some time since, and, in addition to giving himself a +great deal of unnecessary trouble, he delights in making everything we +have to do with him as unpleasant and difficult as possible. Any +payments we have to make to him have to be made in gold. He is legally +entitled to demand it, and he avails himself of his right to the utmost. +That is why I have had to push through with the amount so as to be able +to complete Mrs. Burke's purchase to-day. As we were not anxious to lose +another twenty-five thousand, we obtained an escort from head-quarters, +but I fancy the men have to return to-night." + +"Eustace would know this second amount would have to be sent up?" + +"Of course he would." + +"And the presence of your escort would announce to him or his spies, +assuming that he is concerned in the robbery, that you have it with +you?" + +"Naturally; but the risk was more than the general manager would allow +for me to travel with it unless I had police protection." + +"You expect to pay it out this afternoon?" + +"I anticipate Dudgeon will be at the bank clamouring for it, under +threat of crying off the sale, by the time I get there. The first thing +I shall most probably do is to pay it over." + +"So that it will soon be out of the bank, and the bank's interest in it +will have ceased." + +"Exactly," Wallace replied. "Mr. Dudgeon, who refuses to act through the +bank, will have the pleasure of providing his own strong-room for its +safe keeping." + +"Eustace would know that too?" + +"Certainly." + +"Then you will have to send one or both of those troopers with Mr. +Dudgeon; otherwise he will be robbed to-night. It would certainly be the +last thing necessary to identify Eustace with the robbery at the bank, +but there is already enough to prove that, to my mind. Your duty ceases +when you have handed this sum over, but there mine begins." + +"I intend to suggest to Mr. Dudgeon the advisability of his having +police protection while the gold is in his possession, in view of what +has already occurred. But I am quite sure that the suggestion will be +treated with contempt." + +"Tell me where Mr. Dudgeon lives." + +"He has another station on the opposite side of the township to Waroona +Downs, about ten miles out. He wants to sell that, too, and I don't mind +saying we all hope he will soon find a purchaser." + +"How many men has he there?" + +"Oh, he sold off all his stock from both places and discharged his hands +some months ago. He might have a couple of men about the place, but not +any more, I should say." + +"Well, try and persuade him to take the escort. If he will not, send the +men out to the station to-night. I shall probably be there by the time +they arrive, but you need not mention this to them. Give the impression, +if you can, that I am on my way to Wyalla, and don't be surprised if I +take you unawares any time between this and noon to-morrow." + +"I'm never surprised at anything you do, Durham," Wallace retorted +grimly. "We're quite satisfied the money will be recovered if +head-quarters leave you alone." + +"I hope so--I can't say more," Durham said. + +"But I can," Wallace continued. "It's in confidence, of course, but the +directors have decided that in the event of your recovering this money +they will present you with five thousand. I don't suppose that will make +you work any harder, but it may interest you to know it." + +Durham rode at a slower pace when he had parted with Wallace than when +he came out of the township. The news that a fifth of the missing money +would be his when he recovered it gave him a far greater incentive than +Wallace anticipated. With five thousand pounds behind him he knew his +prospects of winning the woman who had fascinated him would be much +greater than if he had only his official salary as a financial backing +to his suit. Further, if he succeeded in recovering the gold he would +also recover the stolen documents. He had little doubt but what he would +be able to woo her successfully, were he able to return to her the +papers which had been stolen and go to her with his freshly won laurels +of victory. + +A mile down the road he turned his horse into the bush and rode straight +for the range which rose between the township and Waroona Downs. +Skirting the flanking spurs, he followed on until he caught sight of the +tracks left by the horsemen who had ridden after the fugitives the night +before. In their haste and lack of system, he saw how they had crossed +and recrossed the marks left by the riders they were chasing. He walked +his horse to and fro until he came upon the tracks of the two horses +showing clear beyond the jumbled confusion of hoof-prints the amateur +trackers had made. + +The two had ridden direct to the range. As he followed the track, +bending down in his saddle to note the marks, he laughed aloud. The men +were the veriest fools at bush-craft. There were instances by the dozen +which revealed to him the fact that neither had had any experience in +tracking, and so had failed to avail themselves of the chances the +ground they had ridden over offered to render their track difficult to +follow. Where the ground was soft, they had not swerved to avoid it, but +had left the prints of their horses' hoofs showing so clearly that to +the skilled bushman it was as an open book he could read as he rode. +Where low-growing shrubs stood in their way they had crashed through, +sometimes setting their horses to jump what should have been ridden +round. Everywhere the same thing was manifest. The riders were not +bushmen; they were in a great hurry; they were in country with which +they were not acquainted, and were hastening towards some landmark that +would bring them to a locality where they would be more at their ease. + +As he followed the track, he sat back in his saddle. There was no need +to study the ground when he could see the hoof-prints showing right +ahead. So it was that he saw what those other riders had failed to +distinguish in the half light of the moon. There was a sudden dip in the +surface, a shallow depression sloping down to a little stream. Riding, +as they must have been riding, at a full gallop, it was a trap for an +unsteady horse and one of the horses was unsteady, for it had propped at +the brow of the slope, slipped, and come down on its knees, pitching its +rider clear over its head. + +The spot where he fell was still distinguishable by the bent and broken +herbage and his heels had scored the ground as he scrambled to his feet, +caught his horse, and hastily remounted. He had been in a great hurry +and so had his companion, for there was no break in the tracks of the +second horse--the other man had ridden on without a moment's halt, had +ridden past his fallen companion and left him to do the best he could +for himself. All this was plain at one glance. Again Durham laughed +aloud at the folly of the pair, as he reined in his horse and sprang +from the saddle. + +In his fall the fugitive rider had dropped something. It lay white on +the ground just beyond the mark he had made in falling. Durham picked it +up--a closed, unaddressed envelope bearing the bank's impress on the +flap. + +He tore it open. Inside was a sheet of paper with the bank's heading, +but undated. + + "No one saw me go, and I am safe now where they will never find me. + Stay there till you hear from me again. A friend will bring you + word. Ask no questions, but send your answer as directed. You must + do everything as arranged, or all is lost. Whatever you do, don't + leave till I send you word. I am safe till the storm blows + over.--C." + +As Durham read the words, written in pencil and obviously in haste, he +was satisfied that his suspicion not only of Eustace, but of Mrs. +Eustace, was correct. The man with the yellow beard whom he himself had +seen, was possibly the "friend," through whom communication was to be +maintained between husband and wife. He and Eustace had evidently ridden +in during the evening with the intention of advising Mrs. Eustace of the +successful flight of her husband. Hesitating to approach the bank, until +he was certain the way was clear, Eustace had given the note to his +companion to deliver. Harding's vision of the face at the window +completed the picture. The man had crept up to the window of the room +where it was probably arranged Mrs. Eustace was to wait. So long as any +other person who might have been in the room occupied the chair Mrs. +Eustace placed, the shadow on the blind would warn the visitor that the +coast was not clear. It was due to the fact that Harding had noticed the +shadow and had moved to another chair that the man had so nearly been +captured. + +What had followed was equally clear to Durham's mind. + +Directly he found he was discovered the man had run to his horse and, +together with his companion, had galloped off, too quickly to allow him +either to explain how he had failed to deliver the message or to hand it +back to Eustace. It was most probably he who had come down with his +horse at the edge of the depression, by which time the letter would have +passed completely from his mind and so he would not notice its loss. +Under the circumstances it was very unlikely he would tell the truth to +his companion, but would rather leave Eustace under the impression that +the letter had been put where Mrs. Eustace would find it. Sooner or +later, therefore, Eustace would make another attempt to communicate with +his wife. If he were not captured otherwise there would be every hope of +securing him by keeping a close watch upon her. + +With the letter in his pocket Durham remounted his horse and continued +to follow the track. It led him into the broken country which formed the +outlying spurs of the range, and continued along a narrow depression +lying between two ridges. The trees grew closer together in the shelter +of the little valley, and the track turned at right angles and continued +up the side of one of the ridges. + +The surface became more rocky and Durham had to watch closely for the +hoof-prints as he gradually ascended to the top. For a time the track +ran along the summit and then turned down the other slope, following the +course of what, in the rainy season, would be a small rivulet. This +again turned where it met the bed of a larger stream and Durham set his +horse at a canter as he saw, distinct as a road, the marks left by the +runaways right along the bed of the stream. + +As he went he worked out the direction in which he was travelling; the +stream he was following was evidently one which fed the watercourse +crossing the road in the range. It turned and twisted in and out small +flanking spurs, down the sides of which other streams had cut narrow +scars, now as dry as the stream-bed along which he was riding, but +which, in the time of the rains, would be roaring little torrents adding +their quota to that great pool dammed back by the mountain road. + +Suddenly the creek took a sharp turn round a jutting bluff, and as he +passed beyond it he reined in his horse. Scarce twenty yards in front +was a sheet of water, its surface, without a ripple, reflecting the +tree-clad slopes that encompassed it. In the sand of the stream-bed the +track was so strong it might have been made only a few hours ago. + +He rode warily to the water's edge. The pool stretched on both sides +away into the hills, but it was not that which made him rein in his +horse and sit motionless. + +Along the margin of the pool there was a strip of sandy soil. It +extended to the right and to the left of the creek-mouth. Upon it the +marks both of wheels and hoof-prints showed. + +The tracks he had been following swung sharp to the right; the +wheel-marks came from the left, crossed the creek-bed and continued to +the right. + +His first impulse was to spur his horse along the track to the right, +see where it led, and then return along it to the left, but the +twenty-five thousand pounds to be paid to Dudgeon would be at the mercy +of the marauders, if, as Wallace anticipated, the old man refused police +protection. + +Great as the temptation was to learn where the track led and whence it +came, Durham set his face against it. + +He had stumbled on a clue, but the following it up was not for that day. +Later he would return and complete his discovery. For the present he +must leave it. + +There was a long ride before him if he were to reach Dudgeon's homestead +at Taloona by sunset. That Eustace was one of the two men concerned in +the robbery of the bank he had now no doubt. The question he had to +consider was who the other man was. At the back of his mind there was a +lurking suspicion that the owner of Taloona might possess information +on the subject if he could be induced or inveigled to reveal it. + +He glanced regretfully in the direction the tracks led. He would have +preferred to follow them to the end, but after all he might get nearer +the solution of the problem by a visit to Taloona. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +DUDGEON'S HOSPITALITY + + +Within half an hour of Wallace's arrival at the bank Dudgeon drove up. + +He scrambled out of his rackety old buggy and stamped into the place, +passing direct into the little room Eustace had used as a private +office, where, by the chance of circumstances, he came face to face with +Mrs. Burke. + +His keen, grey, hawk-like eyes flashed an envenomed look at her, and +were met by a glance not one whit less steadfast. For a moment he stood, +his shaggy white brows meeting in a scowl as he found himself confronted +by one who even to his distorted vision possessed a charm of face and +figure such as he had not seen since the days of Kitty Lambton. + +Something in the eyes which met his touched a chord of memory long +suppressed. So Kitty had looked when he met her for the first time after +her flight with O'Guire; so she had looked the last time he had seen her +when she had pleaded for mercy to her dying parents and he had taunted +her and mocked her till she turned and left him with curses as +deep-voiced as any he himself could have uttered. + +"This is Mrs. Burke, the purchaser of Waroona Downs, Mr. Dudgeon," he +heard, and faced round on the speaker, turning his back upon her. + +"Who are you?" he blurted out. + +"I am the officer in charge of the bank for the time being," Wallace +replied suavely. + +"Where's Eustace? He's the only man I know in the matter." + +"He is not here at present, Mr. Dudgeon. But that need not concern you. +I assume you have come to complete the sale of----" + +"I only know Eustace. I'm prepared to deal with him--I don't know you +and don't want to." + +"Unfortunately Mr. Eustace cannot be present. But I am in his place. I +arrived from the head office this morning with the gold you demand as +payment for the sale of Waroona Downs. You may have noticed it as you +came in--the bags are on the counter in charge of the police escort." + +"But where's Eustace? That's what I want to know." + +He looked from Wallace to Harding savagely. + +"If you are prepared to sign the transfer, Mr. Dudgeon, we can proceed +with the business," Wallace replied. "Mrs. Burke is waiting." + +Dudgeon glanced at her covertly. + +She was standing, as she stood throughout the subsequent proceedings, a +silent spectator, irritating him by the mere fact that she was so +absolutely impassive. When the time came for her to sign the formal +documents which made Waroona Downs hers, Wallace placed a chair at the +table; but she ignored it, bending down gracefully as she signed her +name in beautifully flowing characters. + +Old Dudgeon's hands, knotted and stiff with many a day's toil, were not +familiar with the pen. As he laboured with the coarse, splodgy strokes +which ranked as his signature, the sight of the delicate curves of the +letters she had made fanned the flame of his wrath still higher. He also +stood to sign, not because she had done so, but because he scorned to +use a chair which belonged to his enemies. When he drew back from the +table he saw how she had been standing almost behind him, looking over +his shoulder as he wrote. A smile which he read as a sign of derision +was on her lips and in her eyes. + +He kicked the chair viciously towards her. + +"Why don't you sit down, woman?" he exclaimed. + +"Because I prefer to stand--man," she replied. + +It was the first time he had heard her voice, and he started at the +sound, wincing as, with one quick, furtive glance, he met her eyes +again. + +"Is that all you want?" he asked Wallace abruptly. + +"Thank you, Mr. Dudgeon, that is all. Will you take the gold with you, +or leave it for safety in the bank?" + +"Leave it at the bank, eh?" he sneered. "No, thank you, Mr. Wallace, I +trust you as far as I trust your bank, and you know how far that is +without my telling you." + +"Very good, Mr. Dudgeon. Will you watch it while it is being carried to +your buggy? There are two troopers here who have acted as my escort +from the head office. If you care to take them with you as a +protection----" + +"I want neither you nor your troopers," Dudgeon snarled. "I can take +care of myself and my money, too, without anyone's help." + +He watched, with undisguised suspicion, while the counted piles of +sovereigns were replaced in the bags, while the bags were carried away +and stacked in the rackety old vehicle. Then, when the tally was +complete, he walked out of the bank, climbed into the buggy, gathered up +the reins and drove away without a word or a glance for anyone. + +The bitterness of defeat was rankling in him, the defeat of his lifelong +determination that never, while he was on the earth to prevent it, +should a woman live where his faith in the sex had been wrecked. It was +bitter to think how he had been foiled after all by a woman, but still +more so when the woman was of such a type as the one who had outwitted +him. It was a new experience for him to be beaten at his own game, still +a newer experience to find himself remembering the one by whom he was +beaten as he was remembering the woman whose voice, despite his surly +antagonism, rang in his ears with a melody which was as the song of a +syren. Each time he had measured swords with her she had triumphed--just +as, in the far-off days, Kitty Lambton had triumphed. + +Kitty Lambton! + +He pulled himself up short as the name passed through his mind. Why +should he recall her now as Kitty Lambton when she had ceased to be +that the day she left Waroona Downs with O'Guire? Why should this +resolute woman recall her as Kitty Lambton and not as Kitty O'Guire? + +As he drove along the lonely bush track which led to Taloona, his mind +drifted across the years to the time when first he had come to the +district, to the time when Kitty Lambton stood for him for all that was +noble and generous and pure in life; when he was content to work the +livelong day with a light heart and happy mind, satisfied with the +reward of her presence when his day's work was done. For a mile or so of +the journey he strove to nurse his resentment against this clear-eyed +woman whose raven black hair was in such absolute contrast to the flaxen +locks of the vanished Kitty, but whose voice had caused the intrusion of +these bygone memories into his waking thoughts. But gradually, +unconsciously, the long-suppressed recollections of the girl who had +charmed his youthful fancies took possession of him. + +Hitherto, whenever he had remembered her, it was with bitterness and +anger; but now his mind was as free from anger as though the cause for +it had never existed. It was the time when Kitty was the charmer which +had come to him, the time when the gnawing anguish of betrayal was +unknown, and slowly there obtruded itself upon him a dim, shadowy, +speculating wonder as to all which might have been had she never changed +for him from the charmer to the betrayer. + +But he was not used to introspective analysis, and the efforts to +grapple with the subtleties of his own subconscious memories brought a +tendency to his mind to lose the clear-cut edge of a fact in a blur of +misty vision. No longer did the memory of Nora Burke irritate him. Had +he associated her with Kitty the betrayer, the irritation would never +have passed; but as it was Kitty the charmer her voice brought to him, +he drifted, in the sere and yellow age, down the stream of fantasy upon +which he had turned his back in scorn when the blood of youth ran in his +veins. + +For miles the road slipped by unnoticed and unheeded as the old horse +stumbled on at his own pace, unguided by the hand that held the reins. +The breath of life had sought to fan the withered soul, but only one +small spark, deep-smothered by the dead mass of loveless years, +smouldered weakly where the record of a long life filled with human +sympathy should have blazed in answer. The gold for which he had striven +lay forgotten at his feet; the hate which he had nurtured passed, a +vapid filmy shade, as the withered soul shrank shivering, chilled at the +void the one poor spark revealed. + +The sight of his solitary hut, glowing in the warm mellow light of the +evening sun, broke in upon a reverie so deep he could never recall all +that it had contained. + +A horse hitched to one of the verandah posts, against which a man in +uniform was leaning, brought him back to the world of reality with a +shock. The hawk-like eyes gleamed as suspicion flashed through his +brain. Had Wallace, despite his refusal, sent the troopers after him? +The whip-lash fell viciously across the horse's back and the old rackety +buggy rattled as Dudgeon finished his drive at a canter. + +"Well, what do you want?" he cried, as he pulled up opposite his door. + +Durham glanced from the stern, hard face of the man to the pile of +money-bags clustered round his feet on the floor of the buggy, and over +which he had not even taken the trouble to throw a rug. + +"I am a sub-inspector of police--Durham is my name----" + +"Durham?" the old man exclaimed. "Are you the man who rode down Parker, +the cattle thief, when he was making off with a mob of imported prize +stock?" + +"I arrested Parker--a couple of years ago." + +Dudgeon leant forward and held out his hand. + +"I'm proud to meet you, my lad. That mob of cattle belonged to me. You +saved me a few thousands over that job of yours. I'm much obliged to +you. I hoped to meet you some day so as to thank you." + +"I don't remember your name in the case," Durham said. + +"No, my lad, there was no need for me to appear. It was a Government +affair to prosecute Parker. Why should I pay money away for the +Government? Look at the anxiety and loss of time I had to put up with. +Nobody offered to make that good." + +"But you got your cattle?" + +"Well, they _were_ mine--I paid for them. But that's all right. I'm much +obliged to you for the trouble you took to catch the scoundrel--ten +years I think he got? He ought to have been hanged. I'd have hanged him +if I had been the judge. What are you after now? After more +cattle-stealers?" + +"Not this time. I'm on my way to Waroona; but I've been travelling all +day and my horse is a bit knocked up. Can I turn him into one of your +paddocks for the night?" + +"Grass is worth money these times," the old man said slowly. "I suppose +the Government will pay me for the use of the paddock, won't they?" + +"You can demand it, of course, if you care to," Durham replied. + +"And where are you going to camp? You'll want a feed, I suppose?" + +"I reckoned I could get one here." + +"Oh, you can get one here all right. There's no luxury about the place. +I'm a poor man and just carry enough stores to keep me going. There's +only me about the place now, so you'll have to do your own cooking; but +you'll find it as comfortable as any bush pub, and cheaper, for there's +no drink to be had, and half a crown for your supper and bed won't hurt +you. You can take it or leave it--I'm not particular." + +He climbed out of the buggy and began unharnessing the horse. + +"You have heard of the robbery at the bank, I suppose, Mr. Dudgeon?" +Durham asked. + +"Heard of what?" + +He stood up with his hand still on the buckle he was unfastening. + +"The robbery at the bank. I thought everyone in the district had heard +of it." + +The old man remained without moving, his eyes fixed on Durham. + +"Haven't heard a word. What's the yarn?" + +"The bank was robbed yesterday--all the money taken, including the gold +which had been sent up to pay you for Waroona Downs. Soon after the +robbery, Eustace, the manager, disappeared." + +"Then who's Wallace?" + +"He is one of the officials from the head office." + +"But he had the money ready to pay me. How could that be if----" + +"He arrived with it to-day--he was expected about noon, I believe." + +Dudgeon let go the buckle and took two slow, deliberate steps nearer +Durham. + +"Brought it with him?" he exclaimed. "And only arrived about noon?" + +"About that, I believe," Durham replied. + +The old man snatched the hat from his head and flung it on the ground. + +"Sold! by God! Sold!" he yelled. "If I'd been there before that chap +arrived, I'd have beaten them--they couldn't have paid, and I'd have +cried off the deal. Why didn't you come and tell me earlier? What's the +good of your coming here now?" + +"Don't you think it rather risky to drive through the bush with a pile +of money like that in your buggy while those bank robbers are still at +liberty?" Durham said quietly. + +Dudgeon stood back and looked at him quizzically. + +"Oh, you're on it too, are you? That's your game, is it? Well, see here, +my lad, anyone who can take this money without my knowing it is welcome +to it. Do you understand?" + +He resumed his work of unharnessing the horse, leading it away, as soon +as it was clear of the shafts, to a lean-to shed at the side of the hut +where he hung up the harness and turned the horse free. + +"Well, how about that half-crown? Are you going to stay, or aren't you? +Government won't pay that, you know. You find your own tucker, my lad." + +"I wish to stay here to-night," Durham answered. + +"Then chuck over the cash." + +It was obvious that if Durham wished to stay, he would have to pay, so +without further demur he passed over the amount Dudgeon demanded for his +supper and bed. + +"Now we start fair," the old man said, as he put the money in his +pocket. "I'm under no obligation to you and you're under no obligation +to me. That is what I call trading square." + +He unlocked the door and flung it open. + +"You'll find some cold meat and bread on the shelf, and there's tea in +the canister over the fire-place. You'll have to fetch what water you +want from the tank." + +As Durham entered the hut, Dudgeon went to the buggy and lifted one of +the bags of gold in his arms, carrying it inside. + +The hut was a small and unpretentious structure. The door opened +directly into the living-room, to which there was only one small window +looking out on the verandah. A second door led into a small kitchen, off +which opened another small room used by Dudgeon for sleeping. + +With the bag of gold in his arms he stood in the doorway. + +"You'll have to sleep on that stretcher over there," he said, nodding to +a rough framework of untrimmed saplings with a length of coarse canvas +fastened across. "You won't be cold. Keep a good fire on. You'll find an +axe in the harness shed if you want to get any wood." + +He passed on through the second door and Durham set about lighting the +fire. As he did so, Dudgeon made journeys to and fro, coming from the +back of the hut empty-handed and returning from the buggy with a bag of +gold in his arms until he had carried all the twenty-five thousand +pounds in. By that time the fire was alight, and Durham went out to turn +his horse loose. He returned by way of the harness shed, took the axe +and went to the back of the hut to cut some wood for the night. As he +turned the corner, he saw old Dudgeon with a spade in his hand, entering +the hut by the back door. + +"Ah, that's good," the old man exclaimed, when Durham entered the +living-room with an armful of cut wood. "That'll last the night through. +I see you made the tea, so I had mine as I was wanting a feed. You'll +have to boil some more water--there was only enough for one in the first +lot you made." + +"I made that tea for myself, Mr. Dudgeon," Durham exclaimed. + +"Well, make some more. There's plenty of water in the tank--I won't +charge you any more for using the can twice, though every time it's put +on the fire means so much less life for it." + +Durham swung round in heat. + +"You're the meanest man on the face of the earth," he cried. + +Dudgeon looked at him with his shaggy brows almost obscuring the cold, +hawk-like eyes. + +"If you hadn't paid me for your grub and a camp, I'd turn you out of the +place," he snarled. "You've no more gratitude for kindness than a black +fellow." + +Durham bit back the angry retort which rose to his lips. Little wonder +the bank people were so indifferent to the old man's safety; little +wonder no one had troubled to bring him news of the incident which +formed the main item of gossip from end to end of the district. If this +was the way he treated a visitor who paid, and paid dearly, for his +board and bed, how, Durham asked himself, would he treat an ordinary +guest? + +But he held his peace, refilled the can with water and set it to boil, +Dudgeon sitting in the one chair the room contained, as he stolidly cut +a pipeful of tobacco. + +When the water boiled, Durham made a second brew of tea and took his +seat on a stool which was by the table. He helped himself to bread and +meat and commenced his meal, but never a word did Dudgeon speak. He sat +placidly smoking, his eyes on the smouldering embers of the fire, +without as much as a glance in the direction of his visitor. + +The sun went down and the interior of the hut grew gloomy. + +"Haven't you a lamp?" Durham asked. "I cannot see what I am eating." + +"Make the fire up--that's good enough for me," Dudgeon replied without +raising his head. + +On the shelf over the fire-place Durham had noticed a kerosene lamp, a +cheap, rickety article with a clear-glass bowl half-full of oil. He rose +from the stool, reached for the lamp, put it on the table and lit it. + +"Here, that oil costs money," Dudgeon snarled as he looked round. "Half +a crown won't cover luxuries--you'll pass over another bob if you're +going to waste my oil." + +Durham resumed his seat without heeding. + +"Do you hear?" Dudgeon exclaimed. "If you ain't going to pay, you ain't +going----" + +He stood up as he spoke, stood up and took a step towards the table with +one hand outstretched to lift away the lamp. + +Durham, looking round as he moved, saw his eyes suddenly open wide and +stare fixedly at the door. + +At the same moment a voice rang through the room. + +"Hands up, or you're dead men!" + +Springing to his feet Durham faced towards the door. + +Standing in it were two figures, one the yellow-bearded man he had seen +at Waroona Downs, the other a man of slighter build whose face was +entirely concealed by a handkerchief hanging from under his hat and +gathered in at the throat, with two holes burned for the eyes. Each man +held a revolver, the masked man covering Durham, the bearded man +covering Dudgeon. + +"Hands up!" + +There was the sharp ring in the voice which betokens the strain of a +deadly determination. The eyes which glanced along the sights of the +levelled weapon, aimed direct at Durham's head, were merciless and hard. +Unless they were the last words he was ever to hear, Durham realised +there was only one course open. He raised his hands above his head. A +side glance showed him Dudgeon standing with his arms up. + +"Turn your back, and put your hands behind you," he heard the bearded +man say, and Dudgeon shuffled round. + +A double click followed, a familiar sound to Durham--the click of +snapping handcuffs. + +"Now, Mr. Detective, it's your turn," he heard the man say. "Put your +hands behind you." + +The eyes behind the mask wandered for an instant from their aim to +glance at the shackled Dudgeon. + +On that instant Durham acted. + +Straight at the face of the man beside him he hit, and as his clenched +fist came in contact with the bearded face, he ducked. + +A shrill cry came from the man he had struck, almost simultaneously +with the report of a revolver-shot. + +Durham heard a scream of pain from Dudgeon, but before he could know +more there was a crashing blow on his head, and he fell senseless to the +floor. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +"FOOLED" + + +In the dining-room of the bank Wallace, Harding, and Mrs. Eustace sat. + +"I have no alternative," Wallace said. "My instructions are peremptory +on the subject. If, after investigation, I considered the suspicion +against your husband as well founded, I was to request you to leave the +bank premises without delay." + +"You believe my husband stole that money?" + +"I believe your husband stole that money, Mrs. Eustace." + +"You may live to change your opinion, Mr. Wallace. My husband is as +innocent as I am. He has acted precipitately, I admit, and more than +foolishly in going away as he has done; but that does not prove him +guilty." + +"I am afraid I cannot discuss the question with you," Wallace replied +evenly. "I can only carry out my instructions. I have told you what they +are, and what my opinion is. I am sorry to inconvenience you, but I have +no alternative." + +"Do you wish me to leave at once?" + +"Scarcely to-night; but I must ask you to get away as soon as you can." + +For a space there was silence. + +"I would like to speak to Mr. Harding, if you don't mind," she said +presently. + +"Then I will leave you, for I have been steadily travelling all last +night and to-day till I arrived here, and shall be glad to get to bed," +Wallace answered. "Any arrangement you can make, Harding, to assist Mrs. +Eustace, I shall be pleased to hear about. You will quite understand, +Mrs. Eustace, that in asking you to vacate the premises the bank is +merely actuated by ordinary considerations and is in no way acting +vindictively or harshly." + +She inclined her head slightly in response, but otherwise made no sign +as Wallace left the room. + +For some time after he had gone she remained silent, Harding waiting for +her to speak. Raising her head, she looked him steadily in the face. + +"I suppose I ought to call you Mr. Harding now," she began, "but I +can't, Fred, I can't." + +"As you wish," he said. + +There came another silence, the woman unable to trust herself to +continue, the man fearing to begin. + +"How life mocks one," she said, half to herself. "Surely it is +punishment enough that I should have to turn to you in my distress, +humiliating enough even to satisfy your desire for retribution. I do not +blame you, Fred. I deserve it all. I treated you vilely." + +"Is there any necessity to refer to that now?" he asked. "I told you the +curtain had been rung down for ever upon that. I have no wish either to +punish or humiliate you. I don't think that I have given you reason to +believe that I do. If you think there has been any reason, I can only +say you are mistaken." + +She started impulsively to her feet and stood in front of him, holding +her hands to him. + +"Fred, I must say it. I cannot bear this longer. It may make you hate +me--detest and despise me, but I must say it. If you had only shown +resentment or anger or spite for the way in which I treated you, it +would not have been so hard to bear. Oh, don't you see? Don't you +understand? Oh, isn't there one scrap of pity left in you for me? I was +trapped into marriage, Fred. I never loved him, never, never! He--oh, +have some pity on me, Fred, some pity." + +She sank into a chair and buried her face on her arms on the table as +she gave way to a storm of weeping. + +To the man it was agony to see her, anguish to hear her, more bitter +after the confession she had made and while the grip of suspicion still +held him. Scarcely knowing what he did, he stepped to her side and laid +his hand gently upon her head. + +"I have pity, more than pity for you, Jess," he whispered. "Don't +think----" He caught his breath to check the quiver in his voice, and so +remembered. "I beg your pardon--Mrs. Eustace I should have said," he +added as he drew back. + +With hands close clenched behind him he stood. The love he fancied he +had stifled had burst through the restraint he had placed upon it; the +injury she had inflicted upon him, the wrong she had done, the cause +for resentment she had given him were alike forgotten. The lingering +suspicion alone prevented him from taking her in his arms to soothe and +comfort her in her distress. Fighting against himself he stood silent, +and the woman, aching for someone on whom to lean, shivered. + +"What am I to do?" she moaned. "What am I to do?" + +He, thinking only of her, took the words to refer to her present +difficulty. + +"I think it would be better if you went away," he said gently. "I do not +think it will be easier for you to bear if you are here when--should +anything else come to light." + +"You mean if--if he is arrested?" + +"Yes." + +She lifted up her head and turned a tear-stained face towards him. + +"Have they found him? Have they? Is that why--why I am asked to leave +the house?" + +"No, Mrs. Eustace. A new manager will be appointed, and the house is +wanted for him." + +"But I will not leave Waroona," she exclaimed, as she stood up. "I dare +not leave it--till I know. If he--suppose he did do it--and wants to +find me?" + +"I should advise you to go right away," Harding said, still speaking +gently. "You will do no good by remaining here where everybody knows +what has happened, whereas if you go away you will be able to put all +the worry of it away from you." + +"I will not go." + +She spoke with a fierce emphasis, the more pronounced because she felt +that the course he suggested was the one she ought to follow, and +resenting it because, by following it, she would pass out of his sight, +and perchance out of his life for all time. + +"I can only advise you," he said. "The new manager may be here in a day +or two, and the bank will----" + +"Oh, I'm not going to stay in this house," she interrupted. "I will be +out of here to-morrow; but I will not leave Waroona." + +"You will make a mistake if you do not, I think, but it is for you to +decide." + +She sat down again, clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap. + +"If I go--will you--will you write to me?" + +"No, I cannot do that," he answered at once. + +"May I--write to you?" + +"I should be sorry if you did." + +She raised her eyes and again looked at him steadily in silence, looked +until he turned away. + +"How hard you make it, how hard!" she said at length. "How am I to know +what is happening if I go away? I am sure you are expecting his arrest. +Why did those two troopers go off so mysteriously this afternoon? They +did not go to the railway. I watched them from upstairs. They rode the +other way." + +He did not reply. + +"Will you answer me this one question? Do you believe I know he is the +thief?" + +"If there is anything that I can do to help or assist you in your +present difficulty, Mrs. Eustace, I shall be only too pleased to do it. +But I cannot discuss the robbery with you." + +For the first time there was a tone of sternness in his voice. + +"Then I take it that you do," she said. "I only want to tell you this. I +still do not believe he did it. I know he is--he is not as you are. I +have tried to shield this from you. I did not want you to know--then. +Now I have told you. I did not know he was going to run away. I did not +know he had gone until Brennan came to arrest him. But I can understand +why he went. He knew the bank would suspect him at once, knew that there +was a black record against him. It was cowardly of him, cowardly to +leave me here alone. But he has gone, and I do not think I shall ever +hear from him or see him again. That is why I want to remain here. If I +go away, I may never know; if I am here, I shall be able to find out. +But don't think that I know either that he intended to run away or where +he has gone. At least have that much faith in me." + +"I did think so," he said quickly. "Now I do not." + +"Thank you," she said softly. "I know how difficult it is for you to say +even that. You cannot discuss the matter, but--don't think harder of me, +Fred, than you can help." + +She turned quickly and hurried from the room. She had scarcely closed +the door when she reopened it. + +"Constable Brennan is asking for you," she said. "Will you go in?" + +She pushed the door wide open and Brennan came forward. + +"Is Mr. Wallace here?" he asked, as soon as he had seen the door close. + +"He has gone to bed--he is rather tired out after his journey. Is it +anything particular?" + +"One of the troopers has just ridden back. When they reached Taloona +they found the place on fire. The sub-inspector was outside with his +head smashed, and Mr. Dudgeon, with a bullet through him and his hands +handcuffed behind his back, lying on the floor of the hut. They saw the +glare of the fire through the trees and only galloped up just in time to +get the old man out. He's in a bad way, Conlon said, and so is the +sub-inspector." + +"Wait till I tell Mr. Wallace," Harding exclaimed, as he rushed from the +room. + +Outside in the passage, Mrs. Eustace faced him. + +"Fred, what is it? I heard--who is killed?" + +"Nobody, I hope. I'll be back in a moment." + +He dashed up to Wallace's room and hammered at the door. + +"Hullo, what's the matter now?" Wallace cried, as he answered the knock. + +"Come down to the dining-room. Brennan is there. One of the troopers has +come back. Taloona is burnt and both Dudgeon and Durham injured." + +When they reached the dining-room they found Mrs. Eustace with Brennan. + +"I can be of use. I know how to nurse. I've learned how to give first +aid. Let me go out and attend to them till the doctor comes. He is +twenty miles away, and they may bleed to death before he can get there. +I've got some bandages. I'll fetch them," Mrs. Eustace was saying. + +She turned as Wallace and Harding entered. + +"Tell them, Brennan, while I get the things," she added as she ran out +and upstairs. + +"It's wicked to think of her wasted on a scoundrel like that," Brennan +exclaimed. "You heard what she said, sir? I know she's the only one in +the township who understands what to do till the doctor comes. We've +sent a man off for him, and they're getting a party together to go out +and fetch the sub-inspector and the old man in. She's offered to go too. +It may save their lives, for, from what Conlon said, they're badly hurt, +both of them." + +"Has the gold gone?" Wallace asked. + +"I reckon so, though there's no saying until we hear what has happened. +But it looks like a bad case of sticking the place up and trying to +murder the inmates. Hullo, there's Mr. Gale calling. He's got his buggy. +There's a seat to spare if either of you like to go." + +"You'd be of more use than I should, Harding," Wallace said. + +"Yes, I'll go," the younger man replied. + +Mrs. Eustace came running into the room, her arms full of bottles and +bandages. + +"I haven't stopped to sort them out--I'll take all I've got," she +exclaimed breathlessly. + +"I will put them in the buggy while you get a cloak. I am coming with +you," Harding said, as he took the articles from her and carried them +out to Gale's buggy, which was drawn up outside the bank. + +"You had better bring them here; it's quieter and more roomy than any +other place in the town," Wallace said to Brennan when they were alone. + +"If they can stand the journey," Brennan said under his breath. "I've +told Conlon to ride back and let us know; I'll have to stay here." + +"Then I'll tell Harding." + +He reached the front door as Harding was returning, after having packed +the things Mrs. Eustace had given him in the buggy. At the same moment +Mrs. Eustace tripped down the stairs and ran across the hall. + +"You had better bring them here," he began when she turned quickly +towards him. + +"Bring them here? Mr. Wallace, do you want to kill them? If they are +badly injured it would be fatal to move them this distance. I will send +word back at once, but if the doctor comes before you hear, send him on. +Now, I'm ready." + +She went out with Harding at her side. + +"I am so glad to have you with me," she said softly. "It is good of you +to come." + +He helped her into the buggy without speaking, though the clinging touch +of her hand thrilled him. He had known her as a light-hearted girl, full +of frolicsome impulses and mischievous tricks, and had loved her with a +passion that kept her ever before him. He had seen her when that +love-lit image had been veiled by the gloom of seeming disillusion. He +had seen her striving to sacrifice herself in order to shield the man +who had blighted her life, and he had seen her as a man loves best to +see the woman he reveres, throw aside the conventional reserve for him +to learn the innermost secret of her heart. But never had he seen her as +she appeared to him at that moment and later, when they arrived at the +scene of the outrage, cool, clear-headed, capable, thinking only of the +sufferings of others, cheering them with tactful sympathy, tending them +with gentle care, the while her own soul was down-weighted with care and +sorrow. + +Throughout the ten-mile drive little was said, each one of the three +instinctively refraining from all reference to the subject which was +uppermost in their minds, and failing to maintain even a desultory +conversation on more commonplace topics. Gale drove his pair at a hand +gallop all the way till the road swerved from the straight and through +the dim mystery of the starlit bush an angry red glow showed among the +trees. + +The last of the homestead, now an irregular heap of smouldering ashes +over which stray lambent flames flickered and danced, served to shed +sufficient light to show where two still figures lay under the shelter +of Dudgeon's rackety old buggy, thrown over on its side. The trooper's +horse, tethered to a tree, pawed the ground impatiently as it champed +its bit, while its master, with a carbine on his arm, paced slowly to +and fro. As the galloping pair swung into sight he faced round sharply +and brought his carbine to the ready, till he recognised Harding. + +"Are you the doctor? You're badly wanted," he exclaimed as Gale reined +up beside him. + +"Quick. Help me out," Mrs. Eustace said as Harding leaped to the ground. +She ran lightly over to the two figures. Through the rough bandage the +troopers had tied round Durham's head a red stain was spreading. Dudgeon +lay with glittering eyes staring vacantly. His right leg was bandaged, +but more than a stain showed upon it. + +She knelt down beside the old man, and as with deft, quick fingers she +untied the bandage, she looked up at Harding. + +"Bring me that packet of cotton-wool, the little leather case, all the +bandages, and the bottle with the red label, at once. Tell the trooper +to fetch the others." + +By the time he returned she had the handkerchief the trooper had bound +round the old man's leg loosened. + +"Open the case and give me the scissors," she said without a trace of +excitement or nervousness in her voice. + +She slipped a rent in the trouser and held the edges back, revealing a +punctured wound out of which a red stream gushed. In a moment she had a +wad of cotton-wool rolled and moistened it from the bottle with the red +label, placing it with a firm light touch on the wound. + +"While I hold this, cut the trouser leg right down," she said, and +Harding, his own nerves steadied by the calmness of hers, did as she +bid. + +The trooper came over with the rest of the articles, and while she +watched what Harding was doing she told him, quietly, how to prepare a +lotion and bring it to her. + +Gale came over as soon as he had secured his horses. + +"Will you go down to the men's huts and see if there is a bunk where we +can put him?" she said, looking quickly at Gale. + +"Why didn't you think of that?" Gale exclaimed as he glanced at the +trooper. "You ought to have taken them there at once." + +"You had better go too," she added to the trooper. "Bring something back +with you, a door or a table or anything that will do to carry him on." + +Left alone with Harding, she never ceased until she had the wound +stanched, cleansed, and properly bound up. + +"There is brandy in that flask, Fred. Mix about a tablespoonful in three +times as much water." + +He brought her the stuff in a pannikin, believing it was for herself. + +"Raise his head gently," she said, and slowly poured the mixture between +the old man's nerveless lips. + +Without a pause she turned to Durham and had the ugly wound on his scalp +laid bare. Snipping the hair away from it, she lightly touched the +bruised skin surrounding the jagged cut. + +"I'm afraid the skull is fractured--I hope the doctor will soon be +here," she whispered, as she busied herself with the cotton-wool and +red-labelled bottle. + +By the time she had Durham's head bandaged, Gale and the trooper +returned, carrying the door from one of the huts. + +"There are two huts with a single bunk in each, and one with four," Gale +said. + +"Use the two with the single bunks," she said. "When are the others +coming from the township?" + +"They're coming along the road now," the trooper answered. + +"Run and see if they have any blankets with them. If not, send someone +back at once for some." + +But there was more than blankets in the buggy that came up at breakneck +speed. By the veriest chance the doctor had been within a mile or so of +Waroona and had come away at once, bringing with him such articles as he +knew would be wanted. He hastened over to the two wounded men just as +Dudgeon gave utterance to the first sound he had made since the troopers +had dragged him out of the burning homestead. + +The doctor bent over him, rapidly examining the bandage round the leg. +He stood up and turned to Durham. + +"Who put on those bandages?" he asked sharply, as he looked up. + +"I did, doctor. I plugged the bullet-hole with an iodoform wad and +stopped the bleeding. I put a pad on Mr. Durham's wound, but I fancy his +skull is injured." + +"Where were you going to send them?" + +"There are two single-bunk huts at the men's quarters. I was going to +have them taken there on that door until you came." + +"We will take them there at once." + +Under his directions the two were lifted and carried away to the huts +and made as comfortable as was possible in the rough timber bunks. With +Mrs. Eustace and Harding to assist him, he found and removed the bullet +from the old man's leg and quickly operated on Durham. + +"I don't know what they would say in some of the swagger hospitals, if +they were asked to trepan a man's skull under these conditions," he said +as the operation was finished. "But he'll pull through, and thank you, +as the old man will when he knows, for saving his life. Aren't you Mrs. +Eustace?" + +"Yes," she answered. + +"I hardly had time to notice who you were before. You're a brave woman. +For your sake I hope your husband gets away." + +The blood surged to her face, and then left it pallid. The shadow of her +sorrow had been forgotten during the strenuous moments she had gone +through; the tactless remark brought it back upon her with cruel +emphasis. She turned aside and slipped through the door at the back of +the hut while the doctor, oblivious to his blunder, went out at the +other. + +Harding was about to follow her, when one of the troopers appeared at +the door through which the doctor had gone. He held a letter in his +hand. + +"I found this where the lady knelt when she tied up the sub-inspector's +head--I fancy it's either hers or yours." + +On the flap of the envelope Harding saw the bank's impress. + +"It probably is hers," he answered as he took it. "I will give it to her +at once." + +There was no sign of her as he passed out of the little door at the back +of the hut and, believing she had gone round to the other, he turned to +go back when, in a limp and dishevelled heap, he saw her lying on the +ground against the wall of the hut. + +Her upturned face was white and drawn as he stooped over her. + +"Jess!" he whispered. "Jess! Are you ill?" + +She made no response, and he placed his arms gently round her and lifted +her till she lay in his clasp, her head drooped on his shoulder. + +The movement revived her sufficiently for her to know what was +happening. + +A long-drawn sigh escaped her lips and she essayed to stand alone. + +"No, Jess, no. Lean on me. You must get back home and rest. You have +overdone it," he whispered. + +"Fred! You!" + +The arms that had hung lifeless wreathed round his neck, the head that +had dropped on his shoulder nestled close and the white face upturned. + +"Oh, take me away, Fred, take me away from this horror--anywhere, +anywhere, so that I may be with you." + +"Hush, Jess, hush. You must not talk like that," he whispered, the +strength of the grip with which he held her and the soft tremor of his +voice giving her the lie to his words. + +"Darling, I must," she answered. "Give me freedom from the misery that +man has brought into my life. Oh, you do not know what it has been and +is still. You heard what the doctor said." + +She shuddered as she recalled the words. + +"The tactless fool," he muttered, resentment rising against the man who +had not hesitated to add another twelve hours' work to an already +arduous day when the call of suffering reached him. + +"No, he only said what others think. I know, Fred. I can feel it. Mr. +Gale was the same. They all are." + +"You must not think that--you must not," he said. "And you must not stay +in Waroona. You must go away." + +Her arms held tighter. + +"I will never go, never, while you remain. Don't despise me, Fred, don't +think ill of me. I know what I am saying. I am on the edge of a +precipice. If I go over, I go down, down, down, an outcast, and +a--a----" + +"Don't," he whispered hoarsely. "Don't talk like that." + +"Who would care?" she added bitterly, "even if I did?" + +It was no longer merely support that his encircling arms gave her as +they strained her to him. + +"It would break my heart," he whispered simply. "I am one who would +care." + +Unconsciously he bent his head, unconsciously she raised hers, until +their lips met, and in one passionate embrace the intervening years +since they had been heart to heart before passed as a dream, and only +did they know that despite all the barriers which had been raised +between them they were bound by a tie beyond the reach of custom, +circumstance, or force. + +With that knowledge uplifting and upholding them, they drew apart. + +"You must go and rest now, Jess. You have need of all your strength to +face what lies before you," he said gently. + +"I don't mind what it is--now," she answered. + +"Then I will go and ask Gale to drive you back. I will give you all the +news when I return in the morning." + +"Are you staying?" Gale exclaimed directly he saw him. "I've harnessed +up, so if you and Mrs. Eustace----" + +"I'm staying, but she will come back with you--the experience has been +rather trying for her." + +"Trying?" Gale exclaimed. "She's the noblest woman I've ever met. I +don't care what's the truth about the bank affair, but there's not a man +in Waroona who won't reverence that woman when he hears what she has +done to-night." + +"I'll tell her you are ready," Harding answered. + +"Where is she? Down at the huts? I'll drive down for her." + +She was standing talking to the doctor when Harding returned. + +"I'm more anxious about the old man," the doctor was saying as Harding +came up. "He'll want very careful nursing, so if you could undertake it, +you'll lift a weight off my shoulders." + +"I will be ready to come out to-morrow if you want me," she answered. +"Send word by Mr. Harding when he comes in--he is going to stay here +to-night. You will bring me word, won't you?" she added, turning to +Harding. "Is Mr. Gale driving back?" + +"He is coming now to pick you up--here he is," Harding replied as Gale's +buggy and pair swung into sight. + +He helped her in and wrapped a rug round her. + +"Don't be late in the morning--I shall be anxious to hear if the doctor +wants me," she said as Gale turned his horses and drove off. + +"She's a splendid woman that," the doctor said as he stood looking after +the buggy disappearing in the dusk. "Pity she's tied to such a rat as +that chap Eustace. I suppose you know him?" + +"I am in the bank," Harding answered. + +"Oh, are you? Then perhaps I've put my foot in it?" + +"I don't think so." + +"Have you known him long?" + +"Eustace? No, only since I've been in the branch--about three weeks." + +"I should have judged you had known her for years." + +"I have, but I have only known her husband since I have been here." + +"Knew her before she was married?" + +"That is so." + +"Then tell me, why did she want to marry that rat? I've only seen him +once, but that was more than enough. Smoke! Women are regular +conundrums. There's that one, as true and big-hearted a creature as +ever breathed--look at the pluck she showed to-night--and yet she goes +and throws herself away on a miserable crawler who can't even respect +the trust his employers placed in him. What does it mean to her? Just +think of it--the wife of a common thief, worse than a common thief to my +mind. What'll become of her? He'll be caught and sent to gaol for years. +What's she going to do then? It's a pity someone doesn't shoot him--it +would save her from degradation." + +The buggy had vanished in the dusk. He turned to his companion. The dim +light from the hut fell full on Harding's face. The doctor whistled. + +"Hope I haven't said too much, old chap. I forgot. If you've known her +for years--well, you know what I mean, don't you? I must get in to my +patient. You'll look after the old man? I've given him a draught that'll +keep him asleep. But call me if you want me." + +He went into the next hut where Durham lay. Harding stood where he left +him, staring away into the night, in the direction the buggy had gone. +The click-clock of the trotting horses came in a gradually diminishing +clearness, beating time to the refrain which was running in his mind, +the refrain of the doctor's words. + +If Eustace were captured there was little doubt what the sequence would +be. A long sentence and his wife branded with the stain of his guilt. +Better if he were dead--better if he were killed, rather than that +destiny should overtake her. + +Harding's jaw set firm as his teeth gritted. + +The memory of her white, drawn face as he saw her lying on the ground +outside the hut; the memory of her desolate wail for him to take her +away from the horror of her surroundings; the memory of her patient care +of the two injured men, injured, perhaps, by the "rat" who had ruined +her life and his; the memory of her as he had first known her, jostled +one another in his brain. + +Better, a thousand times better, if Eustace were dead. + +The doctor, looking out of the next hut, saw him still standing staring +into the night. + +"How's the old man? Restless?" he asked as he came over. + +The voice brought Harding back from the clouds--the thunder-clouds, +towards which he was drifting. + +"I'm just going in," he answered. + +The doctor followed him to the door. Dudgeon lay breathing peacefully in +a deep sleep. + +"You can roll up in that blanket and make yourself as comfortable as +possible--I don't think he'll awaken till the morning," the doctor said +in a low tone when he had crossed to the bunk where Dudgeon lay and +looked at him. "I must get back to my man." + +He went out of the hut without waiting for a reply and Harding made no +attempt to follow him, but spread the blanket on the floor and lay down +upon it. + +Until that moment he had entirely forgotten the letter the trooper had +given him. As he lay back it suddenly recurred to him. He sat up and put +his hand in his pocket to make sure it was still there. As he did so +the old man stirred, and Harding waited to see whether he was going to +wake. + +He remained with his hand in his pocket until Dudgeon's breathing showed +he was again soundly asleep. Then, momentarily forgetful of the reason +why he was holding the letter, he drew it out, took it from the +envelope, and opened it. + + "No one saw me go, and I am now safe where they will never find me. + Stay there till you hear from me again. A friend will bring you + word. Ask no questions, but send your answer as directed. You must + do everything as arranged, or all is lost. Whatever you do, don't + leave till I send you word. I am safe till the storm blows + over.--C." + +The writing was only too familiar, even without the peculiarly formed +initial which was Eustace's particular sign. + +He sat like one paralysed, his eyes reading and rereading the words +which changed to mockery all the revived faith in her. His brain grew +numb. Like a man upon whose head an unexpected blow had fallen, he was +only half conscious of what had happened. Even as he read and re-read +the letter he failed to gather all that it meant, all that it revealed. +The very simplicity of the situation stunned him. + +Then through the darkness of his mind there came, in one lurid flash, +clear as a streak of lightning in the night, the full significance of +it. + +Eustace, having made his escape, had sent the message to her! + +The scene in her boudoir the night before; the vision of the horsemen +coming from the range; the face of the man with the yellow beard at the +window, all passed before him. While he and Brennan were dashing across +the yard, she or Bessie had found the note. + +So it had come into her possession, and it must have been in her +possession while she was talking to him after Wallace told her she must +leave the bank; must have been in her possession while she drove with +him to Taloona, and, for aught she knew, was in her possession when he +found her lying senseless outside the hut. + +He sprang to his feet, crushing the damning sheet in his hand. + +While she clung to him, and he held her in all the fervour of his +re-awakened love, she must have believed the message he had read was +still in her keeping. + +The sordid duplicity, the rank treachery of it seared and scorched. + +Forgetful of the sleeping man whom he was there to watch, forgetful of +everything save the bitterness of his betrayal, he paced the floor with +rapid, raging steps. + +He had been fooled, heartlessly, callously fooled. The bitterest +thoughts he had ever had of her were all too gentle in the face of this +final revelation. She was false to her finger-tips, a syren in cunning, +a viper in venom. + +At the door of the hut he stopped to stand staring out into the dark in +the direction whither she had gone. + +The last echo of the click-clock of Gale's trotting horses had died +away; the bush lay mysterious and motionless under the silent veil of +night; no sound came to him save the heavy breathing of the wounded man +asleep in the hut; but through his brain, with the deadening monotony of +numbing drumbeats, there throbbed the mocking, taunting words, "Fooled! +Fooled! Fooled!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +MRS. BURKE'S REBUFF + + +When Harding returned to the bank the next morning, he presented such a +careworn appearance that Wallace was genuinely concerned. + +"Hullo," he exclaimed, "you look as if you had had enough of acting +night-nurse to wounded men. It has been too much for you, my lad." + +"It has been an anxious night," Harding replied. "At first both were +fairly well, but towards morning old Mr. Dudgeon became very bad. You +have heard all about the affair, I suppose?" + +"I have had a visit from Mr. Gale. There was only one thing he could +talk about. You will guess what that was. The heroism of Mrs. Eustace." + +A cloud came over Harding's face at the mention of her name. + +"I have a message for her from the doctor. She offered to return to-day +if he wanted her help. He asked me to let her know how bad the old man +had been, and is, and say he would be glad if she could go out at once. +I've had no sleep all night and am fairly tired out. If you don't mind, +I'll go and have a few hours' rest." + +"Why, of course, my lad, I'll manage the office by myself all right. Go +and get all the sleep you can. You have earned it." + +"Will you let her know what the doctor said?" + +"I'll send word to Mr. Gale--I've no doubt he'll let her know," Wallace +said with a short laugh. + +"But isn't she here?" + +"No. Gale said the place was in darkness when they passed and rather +than disturb me she went on to the hotel, where they put her up. Very +considerate of her, I must admit. She seems to have made the most of her +time on the drive back with Gale, for he knew all about her having to +leave the bank premises, and told me he had secured a vacant cottage +there is in the township for her. But don't waste time talking, my lad. +You look worn out. Go and get to bed for a few hours. I'll see she has +the doctor's message." + +Harding went to his room with heavy steps. He locked the door and sat +down, took the crumpled letter out of his pocket and read it through +again. + +Then, sitting on the side of the bed with the letter in his hand, he +stared at it as he asked himself once more the question which had been +haunting him since the first rush of indignation passed. + +What should he do with it? + +Had the letter come into his possession the night of the scene in the +boudoir, he would have had no hesitation. But much had happened since +then. He had learned what he believed was the truth about the Eustace +marriage; he had learned that the love he had treasured so dearly was +still his. It was the latter which made it so hard for him to know what +course to follow. + +A doubt had come into his mind, a doubt which operated in her favour. To +hand the note over to the police was to admit he had no faith left in +her, and he had faith. He could not bring himself to regard her as being +so absolutely conscienceless as the circumstances suggested. Rather did +he lean towards the idea that, after all, despite the evidence of the +facts as they stood, she was innocent. And on that point he wanted to be +sure rather than sorry. + +The opinion of another would be a help to him in coming to the right +conclusion, but to whom could he turn? + +He dare not consult Wallace, who was already prejudiced against her; +Brennan was out of the question. There was only one other--Durham--and +he was out of reach, and would be so for some time to come. + +So the matter came back to where it started, and Harding, urged one way +by his love and another by his reason, ultimately adopted a middle +course. + +He determined to confront her with the letter, and tear the mask of +hypocrisy from her face--if one were there--at the first opportunity. +For the present the letter should be placed where no one but himself +could find it. + +Taking off his coat, he cut through the seam of the lining, placed the +letter inside, stitched it to the lining and resewed the seam. + +"I will not condemn her unheard," he said. "She shall have the chance of +defending herself to me before I denounce her. But, if this is true, +then God help her--and me too." + +He flung himself on the bed. He was too tired to worry further. The +irksome question was shelved--for the moment there was peace, and before +that moment passed Harding was sound asleep. + +Before he awakened, Mrs. Eustace visited the bank, received the doctor's +message and went on her way to Taloona. + +She came with Gale. + +"Has Mr. Harding returned yet?" she asked, before Wallace could speak. +"He was to bring me word whether the doctor wanted me to help to-day." + +"He came in about half an hour ago, utterly worn out. I have sent him to +bed for a few hours," Wallace replied. "He left a message for you--old +Mr. Dudgeon is very bad, and the doctor sent word that if you could go +out at once it would be a great help to him." + +"Of course I'll go," she exclaimed. "Mr. Gale, you offered to drive me +if I were wanted. Will you go for the buggy while I get some things +together to take with me?" + +She turned to Wallace when Gale had left the office. + +"I suppose you have no objection to my going upstairs?" + +"None whatever," he answered. + +"I will get what things I want. The others can be taken away later to +the cottage I am renting. I will give Mr. Gale a list, as he very kindly +offered to see to the removal if I had to go out to Taloona again." + +He held the door open while she passed into the residence portion of the +building, and closed it after her. He was not a lady's man, even under +the best of circumstances; with the conviction that Eustace was the +culprit, not only in the bank robbery, but also in the outrage at +Taloona, he wished to have as little to say to her as possible. The +sooner she was out of the place the better he would be pleased. + +As he returned to his work, which, at the moment, was a lengthy report +he was preparing for despatch to the head office in condemnation of +Eustace, she went through to the kitchen, where she found Bessie. + +"I am leaving the bank to-day, Bessie, and all my things are going away. +I have taken Smart's cottage and am going to live there. Although I +engaged you, if you think you will do better for yourself by staying +here, don't let me prevent you." + +"Stay on here, Mrs. Eustace? What, after you've gone? No, ma'am, no! If +you don't want me any longer, there may be someone else in Waroona who +does, but if this is the only place where I can stay, I'm off to +Wyalla," Bessie exclaimed. + +"I would not like them to think I took you away, Bessie." + +"I'm not the Bank's servant; I'm yours. Shall I help you get the +furniture ready now?" + +"No, not just at once. I am going out to Taloona to help the doctor +nurse Mr. Dudgeon. I only want to take enough with me for a few days. +Mr. Gale will arrange for removing the rest, but I would like you to see +they are all taken." + +"I'll see that they're taken, and go with them, too, Mrs. Eustace. I +don't want to stay in a place where everything I do is spied on and made +bad of. Let me come and help you now." + +By the time they had packed a small box, Gale drove up in front of the +bank. + +"I'll take this down," Bessie exclaimed. "It's not heavy." + +Mrs. Eustace followed her out of the room. + +At the door she stopped. On the other side of the landing was Harding's +room. She glanced at the closed door. + +Stepping over to it, she tapped. There was no response. She turned the +handle; the door was locked. + +She did not want to go without a word for him. She opened her bag to see +if she had a scrap of paper or a card on which she could scribble a +line. As she did so, Bessie came up the stairs to ask if there was +anything else she could do. + +"No, that is all, Bessie. You might tell Mr. Harding I have gone. He is +asleep at present." + +Bessie sniffed, with her nose in the air, as she followed her mistress +down the stairs. Tell Mr. Harding? Tell the man who was, in Bessie's +mind, the person solely responsible for the indignity placed upon her +and Mrs. Eustace of being locked in their own rooms by Constable +Brennan! All the message he would ever receive through her would do him +good, she told herself. + +In the office Wallace heard the buggy drive away and caught a glimpse of +it as it passed the door. Mrs. Eustace was sitting beside Gale, looking +up at him and smiling. + +The sound of another vehicle driving up to the door interrupted him. He +looked up from his work as Mrs. Burke came into the office. + +"Good morning, Mr. Wallace," she exclaimed, "I've looked in as I was +passing, to inquire what is the latest news about the scoundrels. Have +they got them yet? Is there any word of my papers?" + +"Have you not heard? Has no one----" + +"Heard? Heard what? Heavens about us, man, you're not going to tell me +my papers have been destroyed?" + +"Oh, no, I'm not going to tell you that, Mrs. Burke. As the news is all +over the place, I fancied you must have heard it also. I forgot you were +away in the bush. Taloona was stuck up last night and burnt to the +ground; old Mr. Dudgeon was shot and is lying dangerously ill, while +Mr. Durham had his skull fractured and is at death's door." + +Mrs. Burke reeled. + +"Oh, my God!" she gasped. + +Before Wallace could reach her she lurched heavily forward and fell, +striking her face against the edge of the counter. + +Rushing to the door leading to the house, Wallace called to Bessie. + +"Come quickly," he cried, "Mrs. Burke has fainted." + +He was raising her from the floor as Bessie came. + +"Help me to get her into the dining-room," he exclaimed. "What a silly +woman! I'm afraid she has hurt her face rather badly. She struck it +against the counter." + +Bessie lent a somewhat unwilling aid. She disliked Mrs. Burke as +cordially as she disliked Wallace, but she helped to support the +semi-conscious woman, and undertook to revive her as soon as they had +placed her on the sofa. + +Wallace returned to the office, leaving the two together. Presently Mrs. +Burke came back, pale and agitated, and with a pronounced discolouration +on her face where it had come in contact with the counter. + +"I must apologise, Mr. Wallace," she began, as soon as she entered the +office. "Sure it's only us poor weak women who know the cruel pain of +an unexpected blow. You'll not believe me, but when I heard the +terrible news, it just turned my heart to stone, it did. Poor Mr. +Durham! A fine, brave, clever gentleman if ever there was one, Mr. +Wallace, and to think of him with all his brains scattered. It's no +wonder I fainted." + +"But I did not tell you that, Mrs. Burke. I said his skull was +fractured, and that he is at death's door." + +"Well, isn't that what I was saying?" + +"No. I did not say his brains were knocked out. As a matter of fact, +they are all in his head where I hope they will always remain, so that +he can complete his task of catching your friends who were so +considerate as to carry off your papers." + +"My friends, do you call them, Mr. Wallace? Sure I'd teach them a new +form of friendship if I had my hands on them for a few minutes. But tell +me now, what's being done with those poor wounded creatures? The girl +told me the old man had had his leg blown off. Well, well! He won't +refuse a chair next time he comes to see you, I'll wager. Or maybe he'll +have his twenty-five thousand sovereigns made into a special wooden leg +to take the place of the other live one he's lost." + +"His leg was not blown off--he was shot." + +"It's all the same. He won't be able to walk about any more, and sure +that's bad enough for any man to have to put up with, isn't it, Mr. +Wallace? How would you like to have it happen to you now? Having to go +about on a wooden stump or just sit about in the same place from +morning to night and never a chance of stretching a leg or crossing the +road." + +"But it's not that at all, Mrs. Burke," Wallace exclaimed impatiently. +"What I said was----" + +"Oh, I know, I know," she interrupted. "Well now, don't you think it a +terrible thing for them to be lying out there without a single woman's +hand to soothe them in their agony? Only a doctor to look after them and +maybe a bushman or so to boil a billy and make some tea between whiles. +It's more than I can bear to think of, Mr. Wallace." + +"You don't feel faint again, do you?" he asked. + +"Oh, no, not at all, Mr. Wallace. Bessie was very good to me. She would +be better out there helping to relieve those poor wounded creatures +instead of idling away her time here, I think; but still, she does her +best, poor thing, such as it is. But do you know what I thought of +doing? As soon as I heard the news I said to myself, there was only one +thing I could do unless I were just a mere bloodless image of a woman. +I'm going to drive straight away now to Taloona and soothe the pain of +those poor unfortunates. It's the sound of a woman's voice that is +cheering to a lonely man when he's in pain, Mr. Wallace." + +"Is it?" Wallace said curtly. "I hope you are right, Mrs. Burke, for you +see Mrs. Eustace is there already." + +"Mrs. Eustace! Out at Taloona? Mr. Wallace, it's enough to bring down +the wrath of Heaven to think of that woman--that--well, I'll not say +it; but there's her husband robbing me of my papers and the bank of its +money and maybe robbing and murdering that poor old gentleman as well, +and she--she of all women on the face of the earth--nursing his victims +back for him to slay a second time. Sure, I'd--oh, I'd--I don't know +what I wouldn't do, Mr. Wallace, to a woman like that." + +"It will be an interesting meeting between you," Wallace observed drily. +"I am sorry I cannot come to see it." + +"But it's not the old gentleman she's after, Mr. Wallace. I suppose they +robbed him of his gold?" + +"I don't know, Mrs. Burke." + +"Oh, you may be sure they did. So there's no more to be had out of him; +but what would it be worth to that villain of a husband of hers if +Sub-Inspector Durham were below ground? The only chance I have of ever +seeing my papers again, Mr. Wallace, is with him. I'll go and drive him +out to Waroona Downs and nurse him myself. I'll not let it be said that +Nora Burke forgot a friend in his hour of need." + +"I am afraid the doctor will not let him be moved. I suggested bringing +them in here, but Mr. Gale tells me the doctor said it would be fatal to +move either at present." + +"Then I'll stay and nurse him there. Sure it's that woman I'll watch. +I'll go away at once." + +He did not detain her. He did not even suggest she was going on a +useless journey. But he sighed deeply as she left the office. + +"Little wonder she is a widow," he murmured to himself. "I wonder how +long the late Mr. Burke managed to survive it? I hope they keep her at +Taloona for a month." + +But she did not reach there that day. + +On the way she met Gale returning. + +"And what's the news of the poor injured creatures?" she cried as she +reined in. + +Gale shook his head. + +"You were not thinking of going out there, were you?" he asked. + +"I'm going out to do what I can to soothe the suffering of the +unfortunates," she answered. "Mr. Wallace was telling me. What a +frightful thing to happen to them, Mr. Gale. Sure the awful news was too +much for me to bear, and I just fell like one dead at the sound of it. +You'll see the mark on my face. They tell me I fell against the counter +in the bank and might have killed myself entirely with the terrible +smash I came against the wretched sharp edge, only that I struck it with +my face instead of the back of my head, though it's little thanks to the +bank, seeing the way they made the clumsy thing." + +"It's no use your going out to Taloona," Gale exclaimed. "No one is +allowed near the huts where they are. The doctor and Mrs. Eustace are +the only persons allowed to see the patients." + +"And by what right is that woman there?" + +"The best right of all, Mrs. Burke. Had it not been for her splendid +courage, they would both have been dead long before the doctor could +reach them. She is the only one Mr. Dudgeon will bear near him." + +"Oh." + +For once the voluble Irish tongue was reduced to the use of a simple +monosyllable, but into the word there was thrown as much venom as would +have taken a hundred of the snakes St. Patrick banished from the island +to supply. + +"So it is fortunate I met you, otherwise you would have had a drive for +nothing," Gale added. + +"And how's the sub-inspector?" + +"The doctor tells me he is doing as well as one can expect." + +"I was going to see if I could not take one of them out to Waroona +Downs--it's good nursing they'll want, and that they'll get if they're +in a place where they are properly looked after." + +"They are getting that now," Gale retorted shortly. + +"I'll go and see for myself." + +"If you want to tire your horse, do so, but that is all which will +happen." + +"And why am I to be shut out when that woman is allowed to be there, +with her husband probably hanging about the place all the time to see +who else there is to shoot and maim?" + +"You have no right to say that," Gale cried angrily. "There is only +suspicion against her husband, and even if there were more, it would +not affect her. A noble-hearted woman such as she is should have +sympathy, not unjust accusation." + +"Sure Mr. Eustace would be pleased to know how well his deserted wife is +getting on with all the admirers she has in the place traipsing after +her wherever she goes," she retorted. + +"You cannot go on even if you wish to," Gale exclaimed. "One of the +troopers will stop you before you reach the huts." + +"Oh, the troopers are there too, are they? It's well to be a miserly old +skinflint to have the State providing troopers at the ratepayers' +expense to watch over one. Or maybe they're also giving sympathy to the +poor distressed lady. Well, I'll interrupt them." + +"You will do nothing of the kind, Mrs. Burke. I tell you the doctor sent +to stop me from driving up to the huts where they are. You would do no +good by going there; you may do a great deal of harm." + +"Oh, indeed. And pray what is there about me that is likely to do harm +to any man?" + +"You know Mr. Dudgeon's character. The doctor says he is in a most +critical condition. For him to see you now would probably mean his +death. You remember how bitterly he resented the sale of Waroona Downs +to you--your presence now would only irritate him and then----" he +shrugged his shoulders. + +"My presence? And what of the presence of the woman whose husband----" + +"You must not say that," Gale exclaimed quickly. "It is +unjust--unwomanly----" + +The grey eyes flashed like steel. + +"Unwomanly?" she cried. "Me unwomanly?" + +She snatched up the buggy whip and in her anger cut at him, but the lash +fell short, striking one of the horses. The animal plunged at the sting +and its companion also started. + +By the time Gale had them under control, Mrs. Burke was vanishing down +the road in a cloud of dust. + +Where the track to the station branched off the main road one of the +troopers met and stopped her. The man recognised her from the previous +day. + +"Very sorry, Mrs. Burke," he said, "but I've been sent to stop anyone +going near the place." + +"Why can't I go? I want to know how they are and whether I can't help to +nurse them," she said. + +"They're both pretty bad, I believe," the trooper answered. "I don't +think you could do anything now, because there's the doctor and Mrs. +Eustace and my mate looking after them. But I'll tell the doctor, and +maybe to-morrow----" + +Mrs. Burke slowly wheeled her horse. + +"I shall not come to-morrow," she said. "It is evident I'm not wanted. +But I shall come in a few days and take one of them away with me to my +house. I'm sure Mr. Durham would be much better away from here. Tell the +doctor I say so. Who is taking Mr. Durham's place?" + +"Taking up his work do you mean?" + +"Yes--who is looking for the man who stole my deeds from the bank? Why +aren't you doing it, instead of wasting your time here?" + +"Oh, that'll be all right, Mrs. Burke. We've got a clue--don't you be +uneasy." + +"I shall be uneasy until Mr. Durham is able to look after it again. He +is the only hope I have of ever seeing my papers again." + +"You're right," the trooper exclaimed. "He's the smartest man for the +job there is. That's why he's lying there now--we know for certain he +was on their track when he got here, and as soon as they saw who it was +after them, they went for him. It wasn't the fault of the chap who tried +to brain him that the sub-inspector is alive to-day." + +"He is very badly hurt?" Mrs. Burke asked. + +"The chap who hit him saw to that--I'd just like to have my hands on him +for a few minutes, the mean hound. There was probably more than one, and +while the sub-inspector was facing the others, this one must have crept +up behind him and tried to brain him from the back. But we'll get him, +and then he will know something." + +"You think you will catch them?" + +"Catch them? Of course we shall. But it's the chap who knocked the +sub-inspector on the head we want mostly." + +"You'll punish him when you do catch him?" she asked, with a gleam in +her eyes. + +"Ah!" he exclaimed. + +She leaned forward. + +"I hope you do," she said. "I would--if I were a man--even if they had +not stolen my papers." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AS THROUGH A MIST + + +Wallace had scarcely completed his report when once more he was +interrupted by Gale entering the office. + +"Mrs. Eustace has given me this order to remove all her belongings at +once," he said, as he entered the office and handed the order to +Wallace. + +"Very good. I'll tell the girl to bring them downstairs. Will you be at +the front door?" + +"Tell the girl?" Gale remarked. "You don't think it's a girl's job, do +you, to move a houseful of furniture?" + +"There's no furniture; there is nothing here belonging to Mrs. Eustace +beyond her clothing, and some few odds and ends, I suppose?" + +"Then you know very little about the matter, Mr. Wallace. Everything +beyond that door belongs to Mrs. Eustace; everything in the residence +portion of this building is hers absolutely, her own personal private +property. Even that lamp on your table is hers. I have it down on my +list." + +"Oh, that is nonsense, utter nonsense," Wallace exclaimed pompously. +"The furniture is the property of the Bank." + +"The furniture is not the property of the Bank. Ask Mr. Harding." + +"He is asleep at present, but----" + +"Then he had better get up, because I am about to remove the bed on +which he is sleeping. It belongs to Mrs. Eustace; so do the blankets, +the sheets, the coverlet, everything, in fact, even to the towels in his +room." + +"What absolute preposterous nonsense!" Wallace replied. "I never heard +of such a thing. The Bank always provides furniture for its branches." + +"And does the Bank always allow the wife of a branch manager so much a +year for the use of that furniture, napery, linen, cutlery, and the +rest?" + +"Why ask such a ridiculous question?" + +"Because Mrs. Eustace has been paid such an allowance since she has been +in Waroona. Refer to the office records. They will show you whether it +is so or not." + +Wallace turned to the book-racks, and pulled down the ledger. Running +his eye down the index, he saw the item "Furniture Account." Opening the +book at the page indicated, he read enough to prove to him that Gale's +statement was correct. + +"Then all I have to say is, that it is extremely unusual," he said, as +he slammed the book, and returned it to its place. + +"I am not concerned in that, Mr. Wallace. All I know are the facts. Now +that you are also satisfied, you will see the work is hardly what a girl +can carry out. I'll send half a dozen men down at once." + +"But," Wallace exclaimed, looking up aghast, "you don't mean to say you +are going to remove everything?" + +"Mrs. Eustace has given me her order to remove all her belongings. That, +I understand, includes everything in the living portion of the premises, +and the lamp now standing on your table." + +"But what am I to do? What is Harding to do? We cannot sleep on the bare +boards and eat our meals raw." + +"I don't see what concern that is of mine. You requested Mrs. Eustace to +vacate these premises at once, and she is doing as you asked. It is not +for you to complain, surely?" + +"It is, under the circumstances, most decidedly it is. Someone must +always be on the premises after what has occurred; but if there is +nothing on which to sleep, what can be done? Mrs. Eustace knew the +furniture belonged to her and should have said so." + +"I am afraid I cannot agree with you," Gale replied. "You should have +known the furniture was hers. Your one desire, it seems to me, was to +vent on her head the wrath of the Bank at what may, or may not have +been, her husband's fault. Whether it added to the trouble she already +had did not matter to you in the slightest. But directly you find that +your spite recoils on yourself and entails some inconvenience for you, +there is a very different tale to tell. Personally I am very glad to +think you can be inconvenienced. You had better have Harding called, as +I shall be back in half an hour with my men. Oh, by the by, the servant +is engaged by Mrs. Eustace, not by the Bank. She will leave with the +furniture." + +He enjoyed the look of consternation on Wallace's face. The banker could +not deceive himself. Gale held him in a cleft stick. + +"But this cannot go on," he exclaimed. "Mrs. Eustace must see how +unreasonable it is. The Bank is entitled to at least a month's notice, +before the things can be removed." + +"It is the Bank that gave the notice. Mrs. Eustace was told to go at +once. Well, she waived her right to demand time and said she would go at +once. Now you blame her!" + +"Will she sell the furniture?" + +"No, she will not." + +"I shall go to Taloona and see about it." + +"It will not assist you if you do. In the first place, you will not be +able to see her, and, in the second, even if you did see her, you would +only learn that the matter has been placed in my hands." + +"Then, if it is in your hands, deal with it as a reasonable business +man. While Mrs. Eustace remains at Taloona she will not require the +furniture; it will be at least a couple of weeks before we can have any +sent up to serve us. How much does Mrs. Eustace want for the hire of +what is in the house at present?" + +"Twenty pounds a week," Gale replied, without moving a muscle, even when +Wallace flared up at the proposal. + +"Utterly preposterous," he cried. "Ten shillings a week was what was +allowed her. That amount is ample." + +"You are the buyer, not the seller, Mr. Wallace. You pay twenty pounds a +week, or the furniture goes. Even at that sum I consider that Mrs. +Eustace is placing the Bank under a distinct obligation to her." + +There was no escape; reluctantly Wallace admitted it, and agreed to the +terms, humiliating though they were. But it was still more humiliating +for him to learn the following day that Mrs. Eustace declined to accept +anything whatever, but allowed the Bank to use the furniture and retain +the services of Bessie until other arrangements could be made. + +"What is the game she is playing?" he said to Harding. "Is it all part +of some elaborate scheme between herself and her husband, or is she +really sincere?" + +The letter sewn into the lining of his coat seemed to burn itself into +Harding's back. Was it all part of an elaborate scheme, part of the +"everything" she had to do "as arranged"? If he could only be sure! + +"I don't know what to make of it," he answered. "I don't know." But +while they were speculating at the bank as to the sincerity or +insincerity of Mrs. Eustace, she was driving her own troubles from her +mind by the constant and unremitting care of a taciturn and exacting +patient. + +For the first two or three days after the bullet was extracted from his +leg, Dudgeon was in a high state of fever. In his semi-delirium he +babbled incessantly of Kitty, grew dangerously excited whenever the +doctor came near him, and would only be pacified by the presence of Mrs. +Eustace. In his lucid intervals he told her over and over again the +story of his betrayal; when his mind wandered, he regarded her as the +Kitty he had known before the shattering of his life's romance. It was +difficult for her to decide which experience was the more trying. + +Later, when the fever left him, he was as a child in her hands, +listening while she read or talked to him, taking anything she brought +him without demur, and only showing signs of impatience when she left +the hut for a while. + +Consequently, she was unable to give any attention to Durham, and as the +days slipped by the doctor began to chafe, for there were patients +scattered through the bush whom he was anxious to visit, but he could +not go away and leave both men to Mrs. Eustace to nurse. + +It was at this juncture that Mrs. Burke put her threat into execution, +and drove over to Taloona in a big old-fashioned waggonette with Patsy +perched on the box and a store of blankets inside. + +"I've come to do my share of the work," she told the doctor. "They +stopped me from coming before--I was turned back by a trooper a mile +from the house. But I'm tired of waiting for word how the poor fellows +are, and have just come to take one of them away with me." + +She had driven right up to the huts, and the sound of her voice +penetrated both. Old Dudgeon, striving to sit up, stared at Mrs. Eustace +with gleaming eyes. + +"That devil," he muttered. "It's her voice. I'd know it in a million. +Keep her away! Don't let her come near me, or I'll----" + +"Hush, you must not get excited," Mrs. Eustace said, as she gently +pushed him back. "No one is coming in here. I'll see to that. I'll shut +the door and bolt them out." + +In the other hut the patient's eyes also gleamed, but with a different +light. The forced inaction, the solitude, the wearying monotony of lying +still, to one accustomed to a life full of incident and action, was more +than trying; but when, as was the case with Durham, there was urgent and +engrossing work to be done, the compulsory delay aggravated the evils of +the injury he had sustained. + +Through the long hours he chafed against the helplessness which +prevented him from following up the clue he had already obtained, but +still more did he chafe against his inability to renew his acquaintance +with the woman who had fascinated him. + +He was anxious to make headway in her estimation so that he would have +some understanding, however slight, with her when the recovery of her +papers and the winning of the reward gave him the opportunity of +offering her marriage. His impatience bred many fancies in his mind. +Daily he pictured to himself the danger of someone else becoming his +rival in her affections. + +Were he free to see her he did not fear defeat; but while he was lying +helpless at Taloona anything might be happening at Waroona Downs. + +That morning the doctor had told him it would be weeks before he would +be well enough to resume work if he did not make more rapid progress. He +had poured out professional platitudes against the folly of fretting and +worrying against the inevitable, but neither his platitudes nor the +soundness of his reasoning could still the eager longing which was at +the root of the patient's retarded convalescence. + +If he could only see her the days would not be so blank; even to hear of +or from her would be something; but this complete separation, this +seemingly hopeless isolation racked him with impatience. Wherefore the +sound of her voice breaking in upon his mournful reveries, of which she +was the central figure, made his heart leap with delight. + +Come to take one of them away with her! Saving that his head swam so +much when he moved he would have crawled out of his bunk and appealed to +her that he should be the one, lest the other should be before him. + +He strove to catch something more of the conversation carried on between +her and the doctor, but their voices were not sufficiently loud for him +to hear more than the sound of them. The creaking of the door as it +opened made him turn his eyes as the doctor came in. + +"I've a visitor to see you. Do you think you can stand it?" he asked. + +Over the doctor's shoulder Durham caught a glimpse of Mrs. Burke, and +the smile that rippled over his face was all the answer he had time to +give before she stood beside him. + +"Oh, the poor, poor fellow," she exclaimed softly. "Sure he's just +pining for a change of air and a sight of the bush once more. It's +Waroona Downs that's the place where he can get what he wants and +recover so as to catch those villains that have done him so much harm. +I've come to fetch you, Mr. Durham. I've a waggonette outside and a +storeful of blankets, and Patsy to drive--sure he can't go faster than a +funeral at the best, so there's no fear of any jolting on the way. If +you want to come, the doctor says you may, and he'll ride along later +and see you are all fixed up before he goes after his other patients who +are all dying, poor things, without his help one way or the other." + +Would he go? His pale cheeks flushed at the chance of escape from the +deadly solitude of the past few days. Anywhere would be better than +inside that bare, cheerless hut, anything preferable to lying on the +hard wooden bunk with only a blanket over him, and only an occasional +flying visit from Mrs. Eustace and the periodical dosing by the doctor. +But Waroona Downs with the woman he was beginning to idolise daily with +him! + +"Will you come?" she asked softly, as he did not speak. + +"If I only could," he answered. + +"There, doctor, you heard him? I'll tell Patsy to spread the blankets on +the floor of the waggonette, and sure he'll never know he's moving till +he's there." + +"It may shake you up a bit," the doctor said, as Mrs. Burke left the +hut. "But I must get away to a case to-morrow, and the old man is as +much as any woman can look after. Do you think you can stand the drive?" + +"I'd stand anything to get out of this place," Durham answered. "If you +think I can stand it, I'm satisfied." + +"Oh, you're tough enough to stand anything," the doctor replied. "You +could not be alive to-day if you had not the constitution of a +steam-engine. They'd charge me with manslaughter down in one of the +cities, moving a man who had barely had a week's rest after a crack in +his skull; but we have to take things as they come in the bush, my lad, +and it's mostly rough at the best." + +New life seemed already to have come to him, and when they had placed +him in the waggonette, lying comfortably on the pile of blankets Mrs. +Burke had spread, the wan weariness had gone and Durham smiled up into +the face that looked down on him with so much softness in the +dark-lashed eyes. + +Overhead the sky was blue as turquoise, and the clear sunlit air fanned +him with a faint breeze redolent with the aromatic perfumes which float +through the atmosphere of the bush. The horses moved along at the +slowest pace they could manage beyond a walk, and the gentle sway of the +waggonette on its easy, old-fashioned springs lulled Durham into a +delightful sense of restfulness and content. Gradually his eyelids grew +heavy and drooped; peaceful, restful, he floated away into slumber as +easily as though he had been a child rocked in a cradle. + +The sunlight had given place to the shade of evening when he opened his +eyes. The rhythmic beat of the horses' hoofs blended harmoniously with +the sway of the vehicle in which he was travelling, and the cool air was +filled with a delicious fragrance. He awakened with so keen a sense of +vitality that for the moment he forgot he was an invalid, and made an +effort to rise. But the strength he felt in his muscles was only the +trick of his imagination; he could barely lift his head. + +But that was sufficient to show him that he was in the waggonette alone. +The seat where Mrs. Burke had been when his eyes closed was unoccupied. +He turned sufficiently to look at the box-seat. A figure loomed through +the dusk, but it seemed more sturdy than the withered frame of old +Patsy. + +He made another effort to sit up. It was not entirely successful, but it +enabled him to see out of the vehicle. Away behind them the dark shadow +of the range between the township and Waroona Downs rose against the +sky. + +"Where is Mrs. Burke?" he called, turning his face towards the form of +the driver. + +The horses stopped, and the figure on the box leaned back as a merry +laugh came down to him. + +"Oh, are you awake then? Sure I thought you were asleep for good and all +the way you never moved all the journey. And did you think I had +vanished and left you to the tender mercies of that old fool? Well, now, +that's a poor compliment to yourself surely, to think I'd run away from +you as soon as I saw your eyes were closed. No, no, I've got charge of +you till you are well and strong again, though maybe I'll have hard work +to shunt you at all then, you'll be so used to being nursed. But I had +to come and drive while I sent the old man on ahead to get the door open +and a fire alight so as to give you something hot to cheer you as soon +as you reached the house." + +"But he cannot walk quicker than we are going?" + +"Going? Why, we're standing still. So we were at the top of the hill +where the horses, poor beasts, wanted a long rest to get their wind +again, seeing how they had come all the way without as much as a five +minutes' break since we started. You were sleeping through it all so +peacefully I had not the heart to disturb you, but sent the old man on +ahead while I climbed up here. Sure we're nearly there; I can see the +light of the lamp shining out of the window. Just keep quiet and rest +now till we're there." + +She started the horses again, and Durham lay back on his blankets till +he felt the waggonette turn off the main road and drive slowly up to the +house. + +As it stopped, he managed to raise himself into a sitting position. +There was a momentary humming in his head, and he gripped the seats to +steady himself. The cessation of the noise made by the moving wheels and +trotting horses accentuated to his ears the still silence of the night. +So quiet was it that as the humming passed from him the creaking of the +springs when Mrs. Burke swung herself down from the box-seat seemed an +actual noise. + +Patsy's heavy tread echoed on the bare boards of the verandah. For a +second they stopped, and through Durham's brain there rang a curious +stifled sound, something like a cry coming from afar, a cry indistinct +and choked as if it were muffled. + +The loud tones of Mrs. Burke's voice, speaking quickly and decisively, +drowned it before the dulled brain could either locate whence it came or +decide whether it was anything more than a variation of the humming in +his ears. + +"Come along now, Patsy. Hasten, you slow old fool. Don't you know Mr. +Durham will be tired?" + +The old man stumbled and blundered down the steps, and Mrs. Burke came +to the end of the waggonette. + +"Oh, now, now! Sure is it wise to do that?" she exclaimed, as she saw +Durham sitting up. "Why didn't you wait till we could help you?" + +She leaned in and took hold of his arm. + +"If you back the waggonette against the steps, I can get out easier," he +said. + +"Of course, of course. Now then, Patsy, why didn't you think of that?" +she exclaimed. "Turn the horses round while I stay with Mr. Durham." + +She sat on the floor of the vehicle, still holding Durham's arm. + +The touch of her hands, the sound of her voice as she maintained a +steady stream of directions to Patsy, the fact of being so near to her, +filled Durham with a gentle soothing. The dreaminess which had been upon +him when the journey began, and before he sank into the contented +slumber, returned. Her voice reached him as from a distance; his grip of +the seats loosened, and as the waggonette turned he swayed until his +head drooped upon the shoulder of the woman by his side. + +Thereafter all was vague and misty until he came to himself and knew he +was ascending the short flight of steps leading to the verandah, with +Mrs. Burke supporting him on one side and Patsy the other. + +As he reached the verandah his legs trembled beneath him, and he stood +for a moment, leaning heavily upon the arms which supported him. + +Again there came to his dulled brain the sound like a distant stifled +cry. + +"What's that?" he muttered. "What's that?" + +"Oh, lean on me. Don't fall now. Oh, keep up, keep up. Sure what will +the doctor say when he comes if you've hurt yourself?" the voice of Mrs. +Burke said in his ear. + +"But that--that cry," he gasped. A cold shiver ran through him. + +"There's no cry; there's nothing but me and old Patsy. Keep up, now. If +you're worse, oh, what will the doctor say?" + +The glare from the lamp shining through the open window grew dim; the +floor of the verandah rose and fell; his arms dropped nerveless to his +sides and, with the faint muffled cry still ringing in his ears, Durham +went down into oblivion. + +Once the veil partly lifted, and he saw, as through a mist, Mrs. Burke +standing defiantly before a man who slunk away out of the room while she +turned quickly and came to the couch where he was lying and bent over +him. As in a dream he felt her cool hand touch his brow and her face +come close to him. + +"Oh, why? Why?" he heard her whisper. "Why have you come into my +life--now--to bring love to me? Better if I were dead; but I cannot let +you go, I cannot! Oh, my love, why have you come so late to me?" + +Her lips were pressed to his, her arms encircled his neck, and as he +thrilled at her touch, at her voice, at her presence, he essayed to +answer her. But he had no strength even to move his lips in response to +her kiss, no power to raise a hand. It was as though his will no longer +had control over his muscles, as though his consciousness were something +apart from his body, something floating in space, voiceless, nerveless, +motionless, apart from himself, apart from all save the love she had for +him, and the love he had for her. + +And in the glamour of that love, the bare knowledge that he existed at +all faded away, until he was as one enveloped in a mist through which +neither sight nor sound could penetrate. + +The sunlight was streaming around him when next he remembered. He was +lying in a bed in an unfamiliar room. By his side the doctor was +standing. His first memory was of the stifled cry which had come to him +as he stepped on to the verandah. + +"Ah, you're awake again, are you?" the doctor said cheerily. "Well, how +do you feel now?" + +"Where am I?" Durham asked weakly. + +"Oh, you're where you're all right, if you feel all right. Do you?" + +"I'm--this isn't the hut." + +He glanced round the room which was at once strange and familiar to him. + +"Don't you remember leaving there? You ought to. Don't you remember how +we got you into the waggonette? When we put you on the blankets? Just +think. You're at Waroona Downs. Mrs. Burke brought you." + +"But I--how did I get here?" Durham repeated, glancing again round the +room. Then it was that the memory of the cry forced itself to the +front. + +"Who was it?" he asked. "Who was it?" + +Another figure joined the doctor, and Mrs. Burke looked down at him. + +"Who was what?" the doctor asked. + +"That cry--the cry I heard," Durham replied. + +"There was no cry," the doctor said. "You've been dreaming." + +Durham looked from one to the other. As his eyes rested on Mrs. Burke's, +vaguely there came to him the visionary recollection of her kneeling +beside him with her arms around him and her lips pressed to his. + +"Dreaming?" he said slowly. "Dreaming? Was it all dreaming?" + +He was looking straight into her eyes, as he spoke, forgetful of the +doctor's presence, watching for the return of the soft love-light which +had filled her eyes in that memoried scene. But no love-light shone from +them. They were unmoved, cold in their grey-blue depths almost to +hardness. + +"Listen to me, my lad," the doctor said briskly. "The drive in from +Taloona shook you up a bit, they tell me. Made you delirious, so that +they had to keep you on the sofa all night watching you. That's where I +found you when I got here at dawn. But you'll be all right now, I fancy, +if you keep quiet and don't think about things that never happened. +You're at Waroona Downs in bed, and Mrs. Burke and that old idiot of a +doddering Irishman are looking after you. That's all you've got to +remember." + +"Except to get well," Mrs. Burke added. + +"Yes, except to get well; and I reckon your nurse will see to that. I'll +call in again to-morrow or the next day. But remember--no more dreams." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +REVENGE IS SWEET + + +As the days wore on and Durham won his way back to health, he waited in +vain for a token from Mrs. Burke that the memory which persisted so +clearly was other than the figment of a dream. + +Although she gave him every attention a sick man required, there was +neither look nor word from her to justify him in believing that the +memory was of an actual scene. For hours she would be with him, reading +to him, talking to him, meeting his glance freely and frankly; but never +was there the veriest hint of the emotion he had seen in her eyes on +that occasion. + +Nor did he hear again the curious stifled cry which had seemed to ring +in his ears the night he arrived. He was constantly on the alert for it, +both by night and day, while he was confined to his room and later when +he was able to get out on to the verandah. But there was no repetition +of it, until at last he had perforce to accept the doctor's view and +regard it, as well as the other memory, as merely the vagaries of +delirium. + +But if she gave him nothing whereon to feed the love he had for her, +that love did not diminish as the days passed. It took a deeper and +firmer hold upon him until he lived in a veritable Fool's Paradise, +giving no thought of the morrow, saving that it would be spent with her, +and forgetting even the task which had brought him to the district. The +outside world did not obtrude itself upon him, till the doctor declared +that only once more would he visit him. Then it came with a rush. + +A dozen questions forced themselves upon his mind. + +Since his arrival at Waroona Downs, no word had reached him from +Brennan, no mention had been made of the robberies. When, once or twice, +he had attempted to speak of them, Mrs. Burke told him the doctor's +orders were that he was not to be allowed to dwell upon anything likely +to disturb him, and she insisted on carrying out those orders. He had +always yielded, lest she put into execution the threat she made, to +leave him to the tender mercies of old Patsy for a whole day. But now +the injunction was removed, for the doctor himself had asked whether he +should tell Brennan to come out. + +Durham awaited his arrival with impatience. Now that he allowed his mind +to revert to more prosaic matters than the object of his adoration, he +concluded that, as he had not been troubled with official detail, +someone else had been sent up to continue the investigation into the +mystery. + +He ran over the names of the men most likely to be entrusted with the +work, speculating which one it was, and what course he had followed. He +hunted for the letter he had found the day he discovered the track +leading to the lake among the hills, and when he could not find it, he +inferred that after he had been struck down at Taloona, the two +marauders had searched him and had recovered what would have been +invaluable evidence against Eustace. + +The excuse Mrs. Burke had put forward for refusing to discuss the matter +with him suggested she knew he had been superseded; the belief grew in +his mind that his successor had succeeded in either tracing the stolen +gold or securing the arrest of Eustace, and perhaps his companion also. +Mrs. Burke, knowing this, had declined to talk lest she revealed the +secret and gave him, as she would consider, cause for mental anxiety and +distress. + +It was therefore a great surprise for him to learn from Brennan, as soon +as he came out, that no one had been sent up to take charge of the case; +that no arrest had been made, nor clue discovered; but that everything +had been allowed to remain as it was until such time as he was +sufficiently recovered to resume duty. + +"They should not have done that," he exclaimed. "Look at the time +wasted." + +"I understand the Bank wished it, sir," Brennan answered. "Mr. Wallace +told me as much. He said he and his directors were satisfied no one +could solve the riddle as you could, and head-quarters had been asked +not to put anyone else in charge, but to leave you with an absolutely +free hand." + +"It is very good of them," Durham said. "But still--look at the chance +it has given the thieves to get away with the gold." + +"They haven't gone, sir," Brennan said quietly. + +"How do you know?" + +"One of them was seen only last night," Brennan continued in a low tone. +"He was seen on the Taloona road, riding the white horse. That is what +puzzles me. How does he hide that horse? It's never been seen in any of +the paddocks for miles round, for everyone is on the watch for it. And a +man can't hide a white horse in a hollow log--it must run somewhere some +time." + +"Where is Mrs. Eustace?" + +"She's at Smart's cottage. She came in from Taloona yesterday. That's +what makes it strange, to my mind, this white horse and rider being seen +on the Taloona road the day she leaves the place." + +"Where are the troopers--Conlon and his mate?" + +"Went away three days ago, sir, on orders from head-quarters." + +"And Mr. Dudgeon?" + +"Oh, he's still at Taloona. They say he's pretty well right again, +except that he limps with a stick." + +"I suppose his gold was taken?" + +"Every atom of it, sir. We found the spot where it had been dug up under +the ashes of the house. But that doesn't seem to trouble him very much. +All he wants is to have the men who stuck up the place caught and +hanged." + +"How did Mrs. Eustace come in?" + +"Mr. Gale drove her in, sir. He's been to and fro most every day." + +"But he didn't meet the man on the white horse?" + +"Yes, sir. It was Mr. Gale who brought me word of it. He said he thought +it must be Eustace, and asked if he would be justified in shooting him +if he met him face to face. Mr. Harding asked the same thing." + +"Of course, you told them no." + +"Well, sir, to tell you the truth, I said it might be the best thing for +Mrs. Eustace, seeing what the conviction of her husband meant for her, +but that it might mean a charge of murder if it were done." + +Durham sat silent for a time. + +"Come out for me to-morrow, will you, Brennan?" he said presently. "I +can't wait for the doctor. This has got to be dealt with promptly, +unless we are to lose the game." + +When Brennan had gone, Durham sat on the verandah alone. Now that he had +taken hold of the case again, all the fascination his work had for him +returned. He became so engrossed in the contemplation of the problem +that unnoticed the sun went down to leave the young crescent moon +shedding a fitful light over the silent bush. Unnoticed, also, were the +sound of footfalls as Mrs. Burke came out on to the verandah. + +For a time she stood watching him. Had he turned quickly he might have +seen in her eyes something of the expression for which he had looked so +often. But reading the riddle of the robberies was too enthralling a +subject, and so he missed his opportunity, for when she crossed to the +hand-rail against which he was sitting, every suggestion of the +expression had gone from her face. + +Standing where the moonlight fell upon her, she leaned against one of +the verandah posts without speaking. It was then he saw her, and from +within the shadow he feasted his eyes upon the beauty of her face and +form so clearly outlined against the soft-toned evening sky. + +"Brennan has gone?" she asked, suddenly turning towards him. + +"Yes. Brennan has gone. And this--this is my last evening here," he +answered in a low voice. "To-morrow I resume duty." + +He waited for the remark he hoped she would make, but she merely looked +away over the silvery haze of the bush apparently unmoved, nay, even +uninterested in the announcement he had made. + +"Don't you ever feel compassion for the poor creatures you are chasing +to their doom?" she asked presently. + +"Why should there be compassion for them?" he asked in reply. + +"Don't you ever feel it? Don't you ever stop to wonder if only they are +to blame?" + +"I am merely concerned in what they have done. Until they have placed +themselves in antagonism to the laws of society, I have nothing to do +with them. When they violate the law, then I am bidden to track them +down so that they may be made to answer for the wrongs they may have +done. It would assist neither them nor myself were I to lose myself in +compassionate consideration of things I know nothing about." + +"But surely--you must sometimes feel sorry for them--must pity them in +their misfortune?" + +"There are too many who deserve pity, Mrs. Burke, for me to waste any of +mine on people who only injure others. All my pity and sympathy go to +the victimised, not to the victimisers." + +"It seems so hard, so merciless, so hopeless," she said after a few +minutes' silence. + +"Have you any compassion for those who stole your papers? Would you have +them escape capture and punishment, and so lose for ever all hopes of +recovering those papers?" + +"I don't know." + +There was a note of sadness in her voice, a note almost as unfamiliar as +the brevity of her reply. + +"To what compassion is the man entitled who struck me down?" + +"You don't know--you don't know what made him do it. He may have been +forced to do it for the sake of his companion, to save both of them." + +"Save himself and his companion from what? From capture while committing +an outrage and a robbery. I do not see where any reason for compassion +comes in, Mrs. Burke." + +"And you would show him none?" + +"None," he answered fiercely. "I look upon that man, whoever and +wherever he may be, as a menace to mankind. He is unfit to be at large." + +"If you saw him, you would shoot him?" + +"If I saw him I should try and capture him and hand him over for trial." + +"But if you could not capture him? If he were escaping from you?" + +"Then I would shoot him--shoot him like a dog, and be satisfied I had +done my duty." + +He stood up as he spoke and came into the moonlight, his face hard set, +his eyes gleaming. + +She raised her hands and held them out towards him with so impetuous a +gesture that he drew back. + +"I hope that you may never meet him--never--never," she said in a low +voice which vibrated with emotion. + +"Why?" + +Durham rapped out the question in a savage staccato. + +"Because I--oh!" she exclaimed, as she shuddered. "It is so horrible to +think of, to think that you who--when you were delirious, Mr. Durham, +you used to talk--you used to say things so full of tenderness and +sympathy that I wondered--wondered whether you were then your real self +or whether your real self was the man you are now--hard, stern, +pitiless, relentless. It was because of that I asked you if you ever +felt compassion for those you chase to their doom. I would rather +remember you as the man I learned to know when you unconsciously +revealed to me your other nature. It is only as that I care to remember +you. But if you met that man and killed him--oh, how could I bear to +think of you as a murderer? It would kill me!" + +"I should not be a murderer. I should be carrying out my duty--a duty I +hope I may never be called upon to perform, but one which I should not +shrink from performing if I were called on by circumstances to perform +it." + +For a space there was another silence between them, until he remembered +she was standing. + +"Will you not sit down?" he said quietly. "Let me bring you a chair. +This is my last night here," he said, when she had taken the chair he +brought. "Do not let us talk about that wretched side of life. I want, +before I go, to thank you for all the goodness and kindness you have +shown to me. You have been----" + +She made an exclamation of impatience. + +"You have nothing to thank me for, Mr. Durham. Surely there is nothing +deserving of thanks in doing what one could to relieve unmerited +suffering. I only had--compassion." + +"It was more than compassion. It was the----" + +"Now, please. You will only annoy me if you say any more about it. If +you had had a skilful nurse, you would have been cured long ago; it was +my foolish blundering which delayed you so long." + +"Your blundering? If everybody would only blunder as you have, Mrs. +Burke, then there would----" + +"You must not say that, Mr. Durham," she interrupted. + +"But indeed I must," he answered softly. "You have not only brought me +back to health, but you have given me new life--something I never had +before--not until I met you. I want to tell you. I want----" + +"No, no," she exclaimed, as she rose to her feet. "You must not talk +like that. You must not, really. I will not listen to you, I must not." + +He lay back in his chair and she resumed her seat in silence. + +"What news had Brennan?" she asked presently. "You see, I have not been +in the town since you came here," she went on. "One likes to know what +is going, especially when one is isolated. Has the new manager arrived +at the bank yet?" + +"I think not, but I did not ask. Brennan would probably have mentioned +it though, if it were so." + +"I must come in and see about engaging someone to get the place ready +for stock," she said. "The old man is not a scrap of use. In fact, I +wish he were back in Ireland. He has the usual Irish failing, Mr. +Durham. You know what that is. I'm always afraid that he will break out +if ever he gets into the town by himself." + +"Drink?" Durham asked. + +"Oh, something terrible. I don't think he has had any since you have +been up here, but one never knows. Any time I may find him helpless. It +makes me uneasy until I have someone else about the place. Sure you can +never say what a man like that will do. He might set the whole place on +fire over my head, and I should never know it till I was burned to death +perhaps." + +"May I make inquiries for you to-morrow, when I get into town? Mr. Gale +may know----" + +"Mr. Gale? Oh, he's a likely man to bother himself about my affairs now. +It was Mr. Gale stopped me from going to Taloona when I heard first +about your--accident. All he could talk about was the good Mrs. Eustace +was doing, and I said it was as well perhaps that Mr. Eustace was not at +home, seeing the interest all the men in the place were taking in his +lady. Sure now, is there any news of the creature--Mr. Eustace, I +mean--there's no need to ask about Mrs. Eustace. Has any trace at all +been found of the scoundrel?" + +"I can't say, really," he answered slowly. "I shall know to-morrow. We +did not go into everything to-day. Brennan only reported certain matters +of official routine." + +"Well, well. I should have thought he would have given you all the news +seeing how long you have been away, and knowing how anxious you would be +to have the latest tidings. Did he say at all how the old curmudgeon +was? Is Mrs. Eustace still dancing attendance on him, and making herself +a public martyr to cover up the tracks of her levanting husband?" + +"I believe Mr. Dudgeon is practically well again--the doctor could have +told you about that." + +"Oh, he did, but I wondered whether you had other news. Sure it's not +always a doctor's word that is worth considering. They lie almost as +well as lawyers--or the police." + +"To whom you come for verification." + +"Now, that's just like me, giving away my own private opinion of you +without the asking. But there! Did you ever hear the reason why the old +man hated so much to let me buy this place? The doctor was telling me. +He said the old man was never done telling him and Mrs. Eustace all +about it. It's the funniest story ever you heard. Do you know it? + +"Sure I'll tell it to you," she went on, without heeding the absence of +any reply to her question. "The old man was once in love. You'd hardly +believe that, would you? But you never know. It's the most unlikely +people on this earth who are the most like to make fools of themselves +in that way. You and me and the rest of us, sure we're none of us safe, +though I will say I'd like to see the woman who could get the blind side +of one man I've met in these parts. Who he may be is no matter. But +about old Dudgeon. It's long since he was in love, you must know, but +when he was it was with a girl who was the daughter of the people who +owned this station, years and years ago, before you and I were born, +indeed. Well, the girl wouldn't have him, or preferred someone else, +which is about the same thing. Kitty Lambton was her name when he was +after her; it was a man named O'Guire she married to get away from the +old soured rascal, though he was young at the time, and mayhap a sour +young man at that. Would you say she was wrong? Would you?" + +"I suppose every woman has a right to please herself in such a matter," +he replied evasively. + +"That's what I say, and it's what poor Kitty did, rest her soul, for she +is dead now, poor thing." + +Her voice dropped to a softer tone suddenly, and she was silent for a +few seconds; but when she resumed her story the shrill tone, the tone +which irritated and hurt him, he knew not why, rang out again. + +"But the old man would have none of it. He swore all the vengeance he +could think of against her and hers. He swore no woman should ever set +foot in this place again. He hounded the father and mother of that +unfortunate girl to their graves; he chased her and her husband from +pillar to post, robbing them, swindling them, betraying them until there +was no place on the face of the earth they could call their own, no, not +even a stick nor a shred. The devil was good to him--sure he always is +good to his own. Money came to him by the waggon-load, and ever did he +use it to hound those two unfortunates down, lower and lower until there +was no hope nor peace for them, and they wandered outcasts in the sight +of man and woman. And that's the man, that old double-dyed, heartless +scoundrel that you police flock to preserve and protect, while the likes +of Kitty and her husband are forced down and down and down to the lowest +dregs of life. Is that justice? Is that law? Is that right? Answer me +that now." + +"Probably Mr. Dudgeon coloured his story a good deal when he told it: +old men usually do when they recount their youthful doings," he said +quietly. "But, in any case----" + +She held out her hand impulsively. + +"Wait a moment," she said. "Supposing he did. Supposing the tale is only +half true; but supposing that he did drive Kitty and her husband to the +gutter, and suppose they had children--do you think if those children +knew what that old scoundrel had done they would not be right to pay him +back in his own coin? Sure I'm glad I was able to make the old vagabond +eat his own words when I bought the place over his head. He's met one +woman in the world who has defied him. And do you know what? If I knew +where any of Kitty Lambton's children were at this moment--or her +husband, seeing she is dead, poor thing--at least, so the doctor +said--I'd go to them and say they could have the place free if only they +would go and taunt that old fiend and fling it in his face and hound him +down as he hounded down their parents." + +"What good would that do either you or them?" he asked. + +"Good?" + +She sprang out of her chair and stood facing him. + +"Don't you know what it is to hate?" she cried. "Is it only Irish blood +that can boil at rank injustice? Is it only Irish hearts which burn to +aid the oppressed and torture the oppressors as they tortured their poor +unfortunate victims? You said you would shoot the man who struck you +down, shoot him like a dog, if he were escaping your clutches. Don't you +think Kitty Lambton's children have as great, if not a greater right to +shoot that bloodless, heartless monster like a dog or a cat or any other +vermin, if they met him on this earth? I'd tell them to do it; I'd tell +them to do it if there were no other way to make his last hours more +full of misery and agony. That's what I'd do, the dirty old traitorous +villain that he is. Pah!" + +She uttered the words with a tigerish pant as she swung on her heels and +strode away to the end of the verandah, where she stood for a moment +staring up at the sky, before she returned. + +"It's the curse of the Irish to feel the wounds of others as keenly as +though they were one's own," she said, as she sat down again. "What +concern is it of mine whether the old fool hoards his money and drives +lost souls to perdition? I've no right to worry about other people's +troubles. Sure I have enough of my own. But it just maddened me to think +of it. Oh, it's the Irish hearts that suffer!" + +The harsh vibrant tones had gone; the voice he heard was that of the +woman who had pleaded earlier in the evening for compassion for the men +who had injured her. + +Impulsively he reached out his hand and touched hers. + +"You must not," he said. "You must not heed such tales. You are too +warm-hearted. The sordid side of life is not for you. We who have to +come in contact with it, and know it in all its wretched squalor, know +only too well that rarely, if ever, can one of the high-pitched stories +of personal wrong be justified. The greater the criminal, the greater +the protestations of innocence and injustice. Do not be deceived. You, +who are so full of sympathy and gentleness, you who would not, by your +own hand, hurt the hair of a man's head, you----" + +She sprang up. + +"Don't!" she cried. "Don't! You must not--never--never--I told you I +would not have you speak to me of--I must not hear such things. I----" + +He was by her side, his two hands clasping hers. + +"Nora, I must. Darling, I love you. I cannot bear to see----" + +She pushed him back, flinging her hands free from his grasp, to clasp +and press them to her bosom as though to still the great heaving gasps +which made it rise and fall in tumultuous spasms. + +"Mr. Durham! You forget!" + +Her voice fell like a whip-lash, cold, haughty, stern. + +"I forbid you ever to speak to me so again. Good night." + +She swept past him and entered the house, closing the door after her. + +Hours passed before he could obtain control over his thoughts, before he +could face the blackness her rejection of his declaration had brought +upon him. Then he rose and stood staring blankly out over the sombre +mystery of the bush, long since bereft of the faint glimmer of the +new-born moon, veiled in shade, silent as the thin wisps of filmy mist +which floated in the still air along the course of Waroona Creek. + +In the morning Mrs. Burke met him without a trace in her voice, face, or +manner of the resentful indignation she had shown on the previous night. +She talked, as she had talked on many a morning at the breakfast-table, +with an uninterrupted flow of chatter, inconsequential, airy, frivolous. +She met his eyes openly, frankly, without a glimmer to show she noticed +the lines which furrowed his face. Yet they were so marked that when +Brennan drove out for him later, he glanced at his superior officer with +apprehension. + +"Do you think you are well enough to return to duty, sir?" he asked. +"You don't look half so well as you did yesterday, and you were not +looking too well then. If a few more days' rest----" + +"Oh, I'm very fit, Brennan," Durham interrupted. "You had better turn +the horses out for an hour or so; Mrs. Burke insists on my waiting to +have lunch before I go." + +Mrs. Burke came out to them as they stood talking. + +"Oh, Brennan, did you see old Patsy in the town?" she exclaimed. + +"Why, he was here this morning," Durham said. + +"Excuse me, Mr. Durham, he was not. You remember what I told you last +night. I did not care to say then, but the old man was very strange in +his manner before dinner, and I believed he had had drink. I spoke to +him about it, and I have not seen him since." + +"But--who got breakfast ready?" Durham asked sharply. + +"I did myself, Mr. Durham." + +"Oh, Mrs. Burke; why did you not tell me? I could have----" + +"An Irish lady, Mr. Durham, does not ask her guests to do her +housework." + +Durham turned away at the sting of her words and voice. + +"Did you see the old man in the town, Brennan?" she asked. + +"No, Mrs. Burke, he was not in town last night. I should have seen him." + +"Oh, dear, then what can have happened to the creature? Sure I wish I +had left him behind me in Ireland." + +"He may be about the place somewhere. Will I look for him?" Brennan +said. + +"He's not about the house; I've looked everywhere," she answered. + +"He might be in one of the outhouses or stables." + +"I never thought of that," she exclaimed. "Maybe that's where he is. Oh, +the trouble of the wretched old fool! I'll pack him off back to +Ireland." + +She went into the house and Durham turned to Brennan. + +"Have you ever seen him in the town?" he asked. + +"Oh, yes, sir. He comes in at night mostly and buys drink, but he never +stays. Soden told me yesterday the last time he came in he took away +half a gallon of rum with him. Maybe that's the cause of his +disappearance." + +"We'll look for him," Durham said shortly. + +In an outlying tool-shed they found him, stretched out on a tumbled heap +of old sacks and rubbish, the place reeking with the scent of rum and a +half-gallon jar lying on its side near him, empty. + +"He's dead to the world for a day," Brennan said as he stood up after +bending over the old man and trying to rouse him. "He must have been +drinking steadily for days to get through that quantity and into this +state. What are we to do with him, sir?" + +"If Mrs. Burke will give him in charge we will take him to the station +and lock him up, but we cannot take him otherwise. He's on her private +property." + +"That settles it then," Brennan replied. "She's Irish, sir. You know +what that means." + +His anticipation was correct. Mrs. Burke refused point-blank to allow +her helpless retainer to be touched. He could remain where he was, she +said, and she hoped the snakes and the lizards and the mosquitoes and +all the other fearsome things she could mention would come and devour +him--but the police were not going to touch him. + +She was equally hostile when Durham suggested they should start off for +the town without giving her the trouble of preparing anything for them +to eat. In fact, he could not now open his lips to her that she did not +snap some biting retort at him. + +"She'd set the dogs on you if she were in her own country, sir," +Brennan remarked, when at last they drove away from the house with a +final envenomed shaft ringing in their ears. "I don't think the old man +is the only one who has a taste for the drink, if you ask me, sir." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE LAST STRAW + + +Since Mrs. Eustace returned to the township Harding had never once been +to see her nor, when passing the house, had he glanced at it. + +His attitude was inexplicable to her. That she had not had even a word +from him while she was at Taloona perplexed her, for it did not occur to +her to question whether he had received the message she left with Bessie +for him. Yet there were several reasons which might account for that +omission. But his failure either to see or to communicate with her after +her return to Waroona was entirely another matter. + +When the third day came without a sign or word from him she took the +bull by the horns and sent a note asking him to see her that evening. + +She was waiting for him in her sitting-room when she heard him come to +the door, heard him ask Bessie if she were at home, heard him approach +the room. As he opened the door she rose to greet him. He stopped on the +threshold. + +"I received your note--you wish to see me?" he said stiffly. + +"Fred!" she exclaimed, looking at him in amazement. "Why, what has +happened? Why do you speak so? What is it?" + +He remained where he was, silent. + +"Don't you wish to see me?" she asked, still regarding him with a look +of wondering amazement. "Has anything happened? Is that the reason you +have never been to see me since I came back--why you never sent a word +to me at Taloona? Have they--have they found out anything more about +Charlie?" + +He closed the door and walked across to the table by the side of which +she was standing. + +"Mrs. Eustace," he began, but before he could say more she interrupted +him. + +"You have something unpleasant to say. What is it? At least be frank. +Whatever it is I am prepared to hear it." + +He took the letter from his pocket. + +"This came into my possession the night we were at Taloona," he said +slowly. "I should have returned it to you at once, but it slipped my +memory until after you had gone. Then, accidentally, unthinkingly, I +came to read it. I--I wish to hear what you have to say about it. I wish +to know----" The sentences he had so carefully thought out fled from his +brain before the calm, steadfast look with which she was regarding him. +"Do you recognise it?" he asked abruptly. + +He held out the cover to her, turning it over so that she could see both +sides. + +"It is one of the Bank envelopes; I don't recognise anything else," she +replied. + +Taking the letter from the cover, he spread it open and held it out. + +"Now do you know it?" + +"Charlie's writing!" + +Her eyes, after one rapid glance at it, were raised to his. + +"You recognise it?" + +"I recognise the writing, yes. It is his. Do you wish me to read it?" + +"If you have not already done so." + +She took the letter from him. As she read the first sentence she raised +her eyes, filled with piteous anguish, to his. + +"Oh, Fred!" she exclaimed. "Oh, what is this? Where did you get it?" + +Without waiting for an answer she looked at it again. Her face went as +white as the paper, a violent fit of trembling seized her, and she sank +to her knees beside the table, burying her head on her arms. + +"Oh, Fred! Fred! Why--why did you let me see it?" she moaned. + +"Is it not yours?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. + +"Mine?" + +She was on her feet, facing him, with eyes that blazed through the tears +which filled them. + +"You believed that? You believed I had this when--that I had read it +when we were at Taloona? You believed that?" + +"It was given to me by one of the troopers, who picked it up where you +had been kneeling when you attended to Durham's wound. The man said it +was either yours or mine. I knew it was not mine, so I took it to give +it to you. I should have given it at once, but I forgot it at the +moment. When I read it----" + +"Go on," she said in a hard voice as he paused. + +"When I read it I----" + +Her eyes disconcerted him; he could not bring himself to say to her face +he suspected her. + +"When you read it--you believed it was mine," she said steadily. + +"For the moment, yes; I had no alternative. Then--later--I was +uncertain." + +"Uncertain of what?" + +"Uncertain whether it was yours. At first I intended to hand it over to +Brennan, as Durham was too ill to understand. Of course, that would have +made it public, and you--well, you would have been suspected, at the +least, of complicity in the robbery. I could not believe that of +you--could not, even with this in my possession. I came back to Waroona +in the morning intending to see you and hear what explanation you had to +offer before taking any further steps. But you were not at the bank, and +when I got there I was done up." + +The steady look in her eyes never changed. + +"Go on," she repeated. + +"I ask you now--what explanation have you to offer?" + +"Please finish your story first," she replied. "Then I will tell you +mine." + +"I have little to add. I could not bring myself to give up the letter +until I was sure it was really yours. Lest anyone else should see it, I +hid it where no one could find it. But when I came down from my room +again, Mr. Wallace told me you had been in and had gone back to Taloona. +So I kept it until I could be sure." + +"Sure of what?" + +"Whether--you had had it." + +She laid it on the table in front of him. + +"Take it," she said. "Do what you will with it. I am sorry you showed it +to me. I would rather not have seen it. How it came where it was found I +do not know. Until to-night I did not know it existed." + +She met his glance openly, frankly, proudly. + +"And you believed it was mine!" she added. + +"I had no alternative--until I saw you," he answered. + +"You have had that letter for weeks; I have been here three days. Yet +you only come to me now--when I have asked you to come." + +"I dared not see you--lest----" + +"Lest you discovered me to be even a greater traitress than you had +already learned me to be," she said in measured tones. "I cannot blame +you. The fault was mine. I have given you ample reason why your faith in +me should have ended." + +"That is not true," he exclaimed. "I could not bring myself to believe +you had acted so. But it was horrible enough as it was. It was because I +had not lost faith in you that I hid the letter so as to prevent anyone +else seeing it. By doing so I was not acting as I should have acted +towards the Bank." + +"I never had it, never. I wish I had not seen it, for it"--her voice +lost its hardness as she spoke--"it is the last straw. Whatever else I +knew my husband to be, I held him innocent of that crime. When you and +all the others suspected him, I would not, could not bring myself to +believe it. But now----" + +Her voice caught and she turned aside, sinking into a chair where she +sat with averted face and bowed head. + +"No wonder you did not wish to see me again," she added presently, as he +did not speak. "What am I now? The wife of a thief, an outlaw, one who +was almost a murderer. Oh, leave me! I should not have sent to you. +Leave me. There is nothing for me now but death or degradation." + +"You must not say that, Jess, you must not say that," he said in a +strained voice as he came and stood beside her. "Whatever he may have +done, you are not affected by it. Appearances cannot well be blacker +against him than they are at present, but you must still remember you +are not responsible for his ill-deeds. No one here, least of all myself, +blames you. Besides, he has not yet been convicted." + +"Not after that letter? There can be no doubt after that. He must have +had it with him when he was at Taloona, and dropped it." + +"But it was opened, torn open, when the trooper found it. If Eustace had +dropped it, surely it would have been sealed up." + +She glanced at him quickly. + +"Do you still suspect me?" she exclaimed. + +"I should not be here if I did," he answered quietly. + +"Oh, I don't know what to think," she said. "I would rather you had come +to tell me he was dead than to show me that hideous thing. Better if he +were dead, far, far better, than that he should live to end his days on +the gallows or in gaol." + +She was voicing his own thought, a thought which had been with him for +many days. + +"It was because something of this kind might happen I wanted you to go +away," he said. + +"I know. I understand that. But I told you--told you why I could not +go." + +She spoke scarcely above a whisper, with her head bent over her clasped +hands as though she feared he might see her face. + +"But the reason you gave no longer exists. Will you go now? Will you go +and leave all this wretched strain and worry behind you?" + +"I dare not. It would drive me to perdition. You don't know how a woman +thinks. So long as she has someone near her whom she knows has respect +for her, she will fight against the temptation to drown all her sorrows +in one reckless plunge. When that one is no longer near her, no longer +her stronghold, then--what has she to live for?" + +"You have the respect of all who know you." + +She pressed her clasped hands to her lips to stop their quivering. + +"No, Fred, no. I must stay. I could not bear to go. A man can think for +the future; a woman lives only in the present. You, a man, cannot +understand that. You would say I should go away, and in a few months or +a year or so everything would have blown over. That would be all right +for a man, but not for a woman. It is while the affair is blowing over +that she is in the greatest danger. It is then she wants sustaining. She +is only conscious of the precipice at her feet. Left to herself she must +lean over, nearer and nearer to the edge until she falls. + +"That is the road to ruin thousands of women tread," she went on. "It +would have been the road I should have gone but for you. The knowledge +that despite all I have done to merit your scorn, you still hold to the +love you gave me in the happier days, is the rock to which I have clung. +Had you acted differently, I should have gone--gone from here, gone from +everything, gone out into the world and lost myself under the weight of +the disgrace which had come upon me. People would say I have no right to +tell you this, that I am false to my sex in doing so. They don't know. +It is easy to theorise when one is not in danger. I tell you because I +trust you and know I can trust you. It is such men as you who save +women, save them from themselves, as it is such men as Charlie who ruin +them--as he ruined me." + +With her face still averted from him she ceased, and he also was silent, +not trusting himself to speak. + +"That is why I must stay here. The mere fact of being near you gives me +strength. If you are going away, then I will go also, for Waroona would +then be impossible for me. But not till then, Fred, not till then. I +only want to know you are here, only to see you sometimes. Do not deny +me that." + +"You know I will not deny you anything that will help you in facing your +difficulties, Jess," he answered. + +"Yes, I know," she said. "I could never have come through what I have if +I had not always known it. + +"Will you have to go when the new manager comes?" she asked presently. + +"The new manager is here," he answered. + +"Here? Why, when did he arrive? I did not hear of it. Did they keep it +from me on purpose? Mr. Gale was in this morning, but he said nothing +about it." + +"He probably did not know at the time. I told him this afternoon." + +"What is his name? Is it anyone I know, or who knew Charlie?" + +"Yes." + +She faced round quickly. + +"Fred--you?" + +"Yes," he answered. + +"Oh, I am pleased," she began impulsively. Then she stopped. "That was +why you did not come sooner," she added. + +"Yes," he replied. "Mr. Wallace told me three days ago it was to be, and +I thought it better not to call immediately you returned." + +She had risen with her hand outstretched to him, but, before she could +speak, a knock at the front door interrupted her. + +"Is Mr. Harding here?" they heard Durham's voice ask when Bessie went to +the door. + +"Tell him I wish to see him at once," he added. + +She went to the door of the room. + +"Ask Mr. Durham to come in," she called out. "I am glad to see you out +again," she added as Durham came forward. "Mr. Harding is in here. Will +you come in?" + +He followed her into the room without speaking, his face so stern that a +tremor of fear ran through her. + +"Will you give me a few minutes alone with Mr. Harding, please, Mrs. +Eustace?" he began, when his keen eyes caught sight of the open letter +lying on the table. + +He sprang forward and picked it up. + +"How did this come here?" he cried, looking from one to the other. + +"I brought it," Harding answered. "One of the troopers found it at +Taloona and thought Mrs. Eustace or I had dropped it when attending to +you." + +"It must have fallen from my pocket," Durham said as he folded it up. + +Mrs. Eustace was looking at him with anxious eyes. + +"Will you tell me--where you--got it?" she asked hesitatingly. + +"I found it--in the bush, lying unopened on the ground. By the marks on +the ground someone had evidently been thrown from his horse, and this, I +assume, had fallen from his pocket." + +"Was it--near the bank?" + +"No, Mrs. Eustace, it was in the bush miles away." + +She gave a deep sigh of relief. + +"Will you leave us for a few minutes now, if you please?" he repeated. + +She inclined her head and went from the room. + +As soon as the door was closed, Durham turned to Harding. + +"I went to the bank for you," he said, "to ask you to come here. I am +glad you are here already. I have an unpleasant task to perform. Will +you give me your assistance?" + +"Certainly," Harding answered. "What is it you wish me to do?" + +"I wish you would do it altogether. It will be easier for her if you +tell her, than if I do." + +"Eustace is arrested?" Harding exclaimed in an excited whisper. + +"Eustace is dead," Durham replied in the same tone. + +Harding started as though he had been struck. + +"How? When?" he exclaimed. + +"Brennan and I found him, as we were returning from Waroona Downs this +evening. He was lying on his face in the creek where it crosses the road +in the range. He was drenched with water from head to foot, but the +water at the ford is barely six inches deep. There were no footprints on +the track either side of the ford to show how he had entered the water. +He was shot in the back, the bullet having passed through his right +lung, coming out at his chest. His wrists were bruised and chafed as +though he had been tightly bound and had struggled to escape. The only +thing found on him was this." + +He produced a handkerchief with two round holes burned in the centre. + +"It was such a handkerchief one of the men who stuck up Taloona was +wearing," he added. + +"Where is he now?" Harding asked. + +"We brought him in and took him over to the police-station. It is for +Mrs. Eustace, of course, to say what is to be done about the funeral. +Will you break the news to her by yourself, or shall I do it?" + +"You have told Mr. Wallace?" + +"Yes. He suggested I should see you. The news upset him very much." + +"It will be better if I see her alone, I think." + +"I think so too. Not that I want to put the burden upon you, but coming +from me----" he shrugged his shoulders. "I will leave you then, and ask +her to come in." + +Harding met her at the door. Closing it behind her, he took her hand and +led her to the chair where she had been sitting before Durham arrived. + +"Jess," he said softly, as he stood by her, still holding her hand, "I +have sad news to tell you." + +Her fingers closed tighter upon his, but beyond that she made no sign. + +"Durham asked me to tell you." + +"Charlie," she said in a tense whisper. "It is about him. He is----" + +A shudder went through her and her voice broke. + +He placed his other hand upon hers gently. + +"He is gone, Jess." + +She rose to her feet with a gasp, clutching his arm. + +"Not dead!" + +"Yes, Jess." + +Her hands fell to her sides, limply, nervelessly; her lips parted, but +no sound came from them; for a second she stood motionless. + +He took her hand again and rested his arm upon her shoulder, fearing she +would fall. + +"Dead!" + +The word came in a low whisper, but the parted lips did not move nor the +staring eyes change. + +"My poor, poor Jess," he whispered. + +"Oh, Fred!" + +A great wavering sigh escaped her, a sigh that ended in a sob, +plaintive, wailing, sad. But still her eyes stared blankly. + +"Sit down, Jess," he said softly. + +"No, no. Let me stand. Let me--I want to face it. Don't leave me, Fred, +don't leave me." + +She swayed, and the staring eyes closed. He slipped his arm round her +waist to support her and at the touch she came forward, flinging her +arms round him as her head drooped upon his shoulder and she burst into +a fit of wild, tempestuous weeping. + +So he held her, his head bent upon hers, his arms supporting her. Not +until the storm of sobs had abated did he speak. + +"Sit down, now, Jess. You will be better resting," he whispered. + +"No, no," she answered. "No, no. Let me stay--a moment." + +A hum of voices came from the road outside, for the news, flying through +the town, brought everybody out to tell and hear. + +With one accord they gathered round the police-station, which was almost +opposite the cottage, and stood in the road discussing the latest phase +of the mystery, the phase which brought into it the note of tragedy. +Then someone remembered the cottage and who was in it, and passed the +word along. The loud voices were hushed as the men, actuated by the +rough sympathy of the bush, quietly moved away so that the sound of +their voices should not reach the woman on whom a fresh blow had fallen. + +Bessie, hearing the noise, went out to ascertain the cause. Hearing what +the news was, she rushed back into the cottage and precipitately burst +into the sitting-room. As she opened the door, Harding signed to her to +keep quiet. + +"Here is Bessie, Jess. Will you stay with her?" he said. + +She drew away from him slowly. + +"No, don't go yet," she answered. "Tell me everything. I can hear it +now." + +Bessie slipped out of the room and softly closed the door after her. + +Mrs. Eustace took the chair Harding placed for her and he sat down by +her. + +"Who--did it?" she asked. + +"No one knows yet," he answered. + +She looked at him quickly. + +"Do they think--it was--himself?" + +"No; it could not have been." + +"I am glad of that," she said. "I have always feared he would. Then +there could have been no doubt. Was he found?" + +"Yes. Durham was driving in from Waroona Downs with Brennan. They found +him in the water where the creek crosses the road in the range." + +"Drowned?" she asked wonderingly. + +"No, not drowned; he had been shot." + +She shuddered and gripped his hand. + +"They did not----" she began brokenly. "They--it was not because he +was--escaping?" + +"They found him," he said gently. "He was lying in the water--the shot +had been fired from behind him." + +For a time she sat silent, still holding his hand firmly. + +"Where is he now?" she asked presently. + +"They brought him in and Durham came across to tell you. Will you----" + +"No, no. Oh, no," she interrupted as she shuddered and hid her face in +her hands. + +Presently she raised her eyes to his. + +"It is better so," she said. "They may find out now that he was +innocent; they would have condemned him had he been taken alive." + +He laid a hand on hers without speaking. + +With a quick gesture she raised it to her lips. + +"Oh, Fred, what a friend you have been to me!" she murmured. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE RIDER'S SCORN + + +Late into the night the townsfolk of Waroona stood in knots and groups +in the roadway discussing the mystery surrounding the death of Eustace. + +Until the closing hour compelled the hotelkeepers to turn their +customers out, the bars were crowded and a roaring trade was done, all +the loose cash in the place passing into the tills which were full to +overflowing. + +Everyone had a theory, which differed from that of everyone else, but as +one after the other told his particular views on the question and heard +them criticised and discussed, and heard also the views of others, there +was a rapid falling off in individual opinions and a tendency to +concentrate on one or two which withstood the test of criticism the +best. + +On one point there was unanimity of opinion. Eustace and the man with +the yellow beard had been in league. They had robbed the bank together, +Eustace having drugged the other inmates so that there should be no +chance of the work being disturbed. + +Eustace had also participated in the robbery and outrage at Taloona. He +it was, the townsmen decided, who had his face hidden by the +handkerchief mask. The indifference of his companion whether his face +was seen or not suggested to them a stranger, one who was not known in +the district, but who had come there for the purpose of carrying out the +robbery of the bank. + +When the first sum of twenty-five thousand was so successfully secured, +Eustace would know that the Bank, for its own protection, would have to +hurry forward another similar sum to meet the obligation of its client. +He would know that old Dudgeon would refuse to leave it in charge of the +Bank, and would decline any police protection even if it were offered. +Therefore, the crowd argued, he and his companion had waited until they +could make a dash for that second sum. + +So far the events as they knew them corroborated their views. There had +been the attack on Taloona; the second sum of money had been stolen and +the rough treatment meted out both to old Dudgeon and the sub-inspector +showed that the two outlaws were men who were prepared to play a +desperate game to preserve their liberty and booty. + +It was this desperation which gave the most popular clue to the solution +of the mystery surrounding the death of Eustace. + +The money, fifty thousand pounds in all, had been safely carried off to +the hiding-place the robbers had chosen. In addition to the money there +were other articles, and over the division of this spoil there had been +a quarrel. Eustace had gone down, probably taken unawares, seeing that +he had been shot in the back. Little as anyone sympathised with him in +the course he had followed, there was a feeling of resentment against +his companion for having obviously taken a mean advantage over the man +who had thrown in his lot with him. A quarrel was possible at any time, +even so deadly a quarrel as would result fatally for one or other of the +combatants; but at least it should have been fairly conducted. + +Thereafter the completion of the story was easy. + +The victor had emptied his victim's pockets of everything except the +incriminating handkerchief--leaving that, perchance, to fasten upon him +a part responsibility of the Taloona outrage; had taken the body on his +horse and ridden with it to the ford, dropping it in the middle of the +stream where it was bound to be discovered by the first person passing +that way. + +There was a callousness, a cynical indifference to all human instincts +in this method of disposing of his victim, which deepened the feeling of +resentment against the assassin who everyone held to be the unknown man +with the yellow beard. To have left the body where it fell would have +been less brutal than to flaunt it in the face of police and public as a +taunt and a mockery. Following the outburst of amazement which the +discovery had aroused, there came a sense of bitter hostility against +the man who had done this, to their minds, needless act of savagery. + +As Brennan passed to and fro he was assailed with questions as to what +the sub-inspector was going to do. Volunteers on all sides offered +their services to scour the range, where all believed the murderer was +hiding, and ride him down. But Brennan would say nothing. The +sub-inspector had barely spoken since he returned to the station; but if +he wanted help he would not hesitate to appeal for it, Brennan told +them, adding that they need not worry--the criminal who could outwit the +sleuth-hound of the force was not yet born. + +"But the Rider of Waroona is no fool," one of the men remarked. + +"Neither is Sub-Inspector Durham," Brennan retorted. + +Gale, who was standing in the group listening to the remarks made, but +advancing no theory of his own, spoke out for the first time. + +"I'm not so sure," he said. "He may be smart enough in following up town +robberies, but he hasn't done much here yet. Twice he has come in +contact with the pair, and each time they have got ahead of him. He +stops everyone else from doing anything. I offered to go out with a +dozen men and scour the range, but he wouldn't hear of it--that was +before he was cornered at Taloona." + +"Don't you worry," Brennan replied. "The sub-inspector knows what he is +doing." + +He passed away from the group and the men turned to Gale. + +"That's what I don't follow," one of them said. "The chap must be hiding +somewhere with that white horse of his. Why not scour the range for +him?" + +"Brennan told me he didn't believe there was a white horse--that it was +all a yarn," another exclaimed. + +"Well, I saw it," Gale retorted. "I saw it on the Taloona road. I'd have +gone after it only I was in a buggy and it vanished into the bush." + +"Is the range the only place you'd look, Mr. Gale?" one of the men +asked. + +"No," Gale replied. "I'd look there first, and then I'd go the other +way." + +"Taloona way?" + +"Well, not far off." + +"That's what I think," the man went on. "Old Crotchety takes the loss of +his money too quietly to please me. He's a pretty fly old chap and does +not stop at a trifle to get his own back." + +"Like he did when he fired you out, Davy," someone exclaimed, and there +was a general laugh, for the story of how Davy had been sent about his +business at a moment's notice by Dudgeon was one of the stock anecdotes +of the district. + +"Oh, that's as it may be," Davy retorted, "but I know too much about the +old man to trust him very far." + +"Do you think he's the Rider?" Gale exclaimed. + +"No, but he may know who the Rider is--there are plenty of men who'd do +the job for a round sum down." + +"But how about Eustace?" + +"Oh, well, that would be a bit of luck to get him to join. They may have +thrown him over when he was no more use to them, and then there may +have been a row and somebody's gun may have gone off a bit too soon. +You never know. But anyhow, I'm with you when you say things look as if +they are getting too much for the police to handle." + +"That's all very fine, Davy, but what I'd like to know is why the old +man got shot? Did he pay a man to do that?" + +"Of course he didn't," Davy exclaimed. "I had a yarn with one of the +troopers about that. He told me what the sub-inspector said in his +report. Maybe that's something you don't know." + +It was, and the attention of the group concentrated on Davy, much to his +satisfaction. + +"Go on, let's have the yarn," someone said impatiently, and there was a +chorus of assent from the others. + +"This is what happened," Davy went on. "The Rider and his mate--Eustace, +as I believe--came into the hut to settle the sub-inspector. As a blind +they put handcuffs on the old man and were going to do the same with +Durham when he, finding himself cornered again, made a fight for it. One +of the chaps fired, meaning to finish him, but missed and hit the old +man instead. Then, in the fight, the lamp was upset and the place in a +blaze. Durham got a crack on the head and staggered outside, and before +the others could get the old man out of the place the troopers arrived, +and they had to bolt to save their own skins. That is pretty much what +Conlon told me was in the sub-inspector's report. It was after hearing +it I suspected the old chap." + +The group was silent as Davy ceased. + +"You've got the bulge on us this time," one of them remarked presently. +"Why didn't you tell the yarn before?" + +"Because it was told to me in confidence--I knew Conlon years ago in the +South. But now this other thing's happened it makes all the difference, +doesn't it?" + +"But how about the money, Davy?" Gale asked. "That had gone, you know; I +saw the place where it had been dug up." + +"Did you? You saw a hole in the ground; but how do you know the money +was ever in it? And how could two chaps carry away a lot of loose bags +of money on horseback?" + +"That's so," one of the group cried. "I reckon Davy's on the right track +this time." + +"Anyway, so far as the money is concerned, only those who can afford to +lose have been robbed. It won't break the Bank and old Dudgeon can stand +it," Gale observed. + +"But there's murder in the case now. That counts more than money. It +means hanging for someone," Davy replied. + +"Or ought to--if the police can catch him," Gale said, as he left the +group and went on to Soden's bar, where he found Allnut and Johnson +carrying on an animated discussion with the hotelkeeper on the one +topic. + +"Have you heard the latest?" he inquired as he joined them. + +"What's that? A clue? Have the police got a clue?" Soden exclaimed. + +"There's a clue--of a sort, but the police haven't got it. Davy Freeman +has been giving us a new theory. He says old Dudgeon's at the back of it +all." + +"I'm not sure he's far wrong, Mr. Gale, to tell you the truth," Soden +said in his slow manner. "They say funny things about the old man, +especially those who were here in the early days." + +"What's Freeman's yarn?" Allnut asked. + +By the time Gale had repeated the story his audience had grown, and the +waning interest in the subject was revived as the theory was passed from +one to the other until it spread through all the groups and was debated +and discussed from every possible and impossible standpoint. When the +hour arrived for closing the bars the men clustered in the road, still +wrestling with the problem. + +The night wore on and the young moon was sinking to the west before they +began to knock the ashes out of their pipes, preparatory to adjourning +the open-air parliament until the following day. One man was still +pouring out his views and opinions and the others crowded round him, +their own energies spent, but listening listlessly before they +separated. + +Suddenly the sound of a horse galloping wildly startled them. With one +accord they turned towards the direction whence the sound came. + +In the faint half-light, right in the middle of the road, racing with +maddened speed, charging straight upon them, they saw a white horse with +a bearded rider. + +To the right and left they scattered to get clear of the flying hoofs as +through the midst of them, with a mocking shout and a wave of his hand, +there flashed past the man with the yellow beard. + +A howl of execration and wrath broke from their lips. Those who had gone +to their homes rushed out. Brennan, with Durham at his heels, dashed +from the station. + +"The Rider! The Rider!" came in a chorus of hoarse shouts. "After him, +lads, after him." + +There was a scatter and scamper as men fled for their horses. +Barebacked, many with the bridle scarcely secure, all without weapons, +the men of Waroona raced pell-mell down the road. + +Behind them, armed and orderly, Durham and his constable spurred their +horses in pursuit. + +"The fools! They'll help him to escape," Durham cried as they came in +sight of the confused rabble racing along the road. + +Ahead of the charging mob the road for a hundred yards showed clear as +it topped a slight ascent. A belt of scrub a quarter of a mile through +intervened between the mob and the open stretch of road. But from where +Durham and Brennan were the view was uninterrupted. + +The white horse and its rider were half-way to the top. + +Acting with one impulse, both raised their carbines and fired from the +saddle. The noise of the reports echoed through the still air and made +the men in the scrub below rein in their horses to listen. As the smoke +drifted clear Durham and Brennan saw, on the summit of the rise, the +white horse prancing, riderless. + +Reloading as they rode, they dug their spurs home and raced through the +patch of scrub. The men heard them coming, and waited, the lack of a +leader making them undecided how to act. They made way for the two +police, closing in behind them and pressing up to learn what had +happened. + +"He's down. Keep back," Brennan called to them over his shoulder, and +they slowed their horses until Durham and the constable rode twenty +yards in front. + +Through the shadow of the scrub the two galloped side by side, each with +his carbine resting on his hip ready for instant use. The road was soft +and sandy and the beat of the horses' hoofs was muffled. + +With a sharp turn the road was clear of the scrub, and the open stretch +rising to the top of the hill lay before them. In the centre one small +dark object was on the ground, but there was no sign of the man they +expected to see. + +Reining in as they came up to the small object, they saw it was an +ordinary bushman's slouch hat. In the roadway, close to it, two long +furrows were scored, while at irregular intervals up the rise flecks of +blood glistened. + +Durham leaped from his saddle and picked up the hat. On the lining was +stamped the name of the chief Waroona storekeeper, Allnut. + +"He's a local man," Durham said quickly. "Keep those fools back." + +While Brennan checked the charging crowd, now racing up the slope, +Durham went forward alone. On the sandy roadway the marks made by the +prancing horse were clearly visible to the top of the hill. The animal +had evidently been badly frightened and had reared and plunged from one +side of the road to the other, but nowhere was there such a mark as he +knew must have been made had the rider fallen. Nor had the horse plunged +as a riderless animal, but as one straining against a tight-held rein. + +At the top of the hill the marks showed down the other slope until the +horse had reached a point where it would no longer be visible from the +spot he and Brennan had been when they fired. There the track gradually +approached the edge of the road and vanished on to the rough ground. + +Durham sprang out of the saddle and bent over the marks where they left +the road. The horse had been pulled round and ridden directly into the +bush. With the last faint rays of the moon dying away it was hopeless +trying to follow the tracks through the sombre shadow; nothing more +could be done until daylight to follow where the man had ridden. + +He had remounted and was riding back when the remainder of the men came +up with Brennan. + +"The track runs into the bush; there's no hope of following it +to-night," he cried. + +No hope? A dozen voices answered him with a flat contradiction, and past +him there was a rush of barebacked riders hot on the trail. They +scattered in a wide-spreading line, riding straight ahead and watching +only for a gleam of the white horse amid the shadows of the bush. + +Durham stood up in his stirrups and shouted to them to come back, but he +might as well have called to the wind. The fever of the chase was in +their veins, the reckless dash of the hunter fired by the excitement of +the greatest of all pursuits, a man-hunt. While this held them, they +raced, aimlessly, uselessly, but persistently. + +Those with cooler heads and better judgment reined in their horses. Gale +found himself in the midst of an excited throng with whom he was carried +forward for some distance before he could get free. + +"He's right, lads, he's right," he shouted. "There's no chance to follow +the track till it's daylight. Don't smother it. Come back." + +"Chase him to the range, boys, chase him to the range. We'll catch him +at the rise," yelled one of the men in the lead, and with an answering +cheer the galloping crowd held on. + +Those who had remained on the road were starting to return to the +township when Gale rode back. Hearing him coming, they waited to see who +it was. + +"They're mad," he cried, as he came up. "If they get near him, he'll +shoot them as they come, and they'll destroy every sign of his tracks." + +"It's done now," Durham exclaimed impatiently. "We'll have to leave +them; it's no use going after them now." + +He turned his horse's head and set off for the township with Brennan at +his side and the rest trailing after him. At the station he and Brennan +wheeled their horses into the yard while the others went on to their +homes. + +"I shall be away with the dawn," Durham said, as soon as the horses were +stabled and they were in their quarters. "It's the old story. That +fellow has had so much luck up to the present he's lost his head. He +wants to show us how clever he really is." + +"There's not much sense in what he did to-night; anyone in the crowd +might have had a rifle, and there was no doubt who he was--he carried +his life in his hands for nothing, it seems to me." + +"They always do sooner or later. He's an old hand at the game, or he +wouldn't be so anxious to let us know he's still in the neighbourhood." + +While he was speaking, the door opened and Soden, the hotelkeeper, +excitedly entered the room. + +"Here, come across the road, quick. Come and have a look at it. Hang me +if this doesn't beat cock-fighting. They've stuck up the pub and cleared +off with the till and all the takings," he exclaimed. + +He led the way to his hotel, the front door of which was open. + +"As I found it," he said as he pulled it to until it was ajar. "When we +closed for the night it was locked and bolted. Look at it." + +Durham carefully examined it. + +"Opened by an expert burglar," he said quietly. + +"No one but a master of the craft could have done it so neatly. Show me +the till." + +Soden led them into the bar. The till, empty, was on the floor; every +cupboard door was forced and the place in chaos. + +As they stood looking at the wreck, voices sounded outside and other men +trooped in. + +"Here, I say," the first-comer cried. "Here's a pretty go. Someone has +been in my place and cleared every pennypiece out of it and--hullo!" he +exclaimed as he looked at the state of Soden's bar, one of the show +places of the town under ordinary conditions. "You seem to have had them +too, and there's a mob outside, all with the same story." + +There was no gainsaying what had happened. While the men of the town +were out careering after the mysterious Rider, their homes had been +rifled of everything of value. The town was stripped as clean as though +a tribe of human locusts had swept through it. Two places only were +unvisited, the bank and Mrs. Eustace's cottage, in both of which places +lights had been burning. + +Not even the police-station escaped, though not until Durham and Brennan +returned to it did they realise the fact. What money there was in the +place had vanished; a watch Brennan had left hanging over his bunk had +disappeared and, as if to emphasise the visit, the pages of the record +book were smeared with ink and defaced. + +Brennan glanced covertly at his superior who, with a heavy frown on his +brow, stood scowling at the defaced book. + +"Have the revolvers gone?" he asked suddenly. + +Brennan turned to the locker where they were kept. + +"No, sir, they are here all right. I fancy he must have been disturbed +before he could finish his work here. None of the cupboards have been +touched." + +"Whom do you suspect?" Durham asked sharply. + +Brennan scratched his head and screwed up his face. + +"Well, to tell you the plain, honest truth, sir, I'm bothered if I know +who to suspect. What gets over me is that white horse. No one believed +the yarn about the buggy and pair of white horses, and no one believed +the yarn about the men on white horses being seen on the Taloona road. +But here the chap comes clean through the township riding a horse of a +colour that isn't known in the district. You can't put a white horse out +of sight like you can a stray cat, sir. But where do they go when the +Riders are not on the road? It gets me, sir, I'm free to admit." + +"That hat I picked up was bought at the store in the town. That suggests +someone who has been about the place." + +"Well, he might have stolen it. He might have taken it from the bank, or +Taloona, or it might have been that other poor chap's--out there, I +mean," he added, nodding towards the shed where Eustace lay. + +"He's no bushman," Durham said. + +"He rides well enough for one." + +"Oh, yes, I admit he rides well enough for one, but many men ride +besides bushmen. I know neither he nor his partner have any practical +bush experience. I know that. Just as I know the man who went through +the town to-night is a burglar who learned his craft in one of the big +cities of the world. The way that hotel door was opened was one of the +finest pieces of expert burglary I've ever seen, and there are some +pretty smart men at the game in our cities." + +"He's a pretty daring chap," Brennan remarked, with a touch of +admiration in his voice. + +"He's too daring. That is what puzzles me. With fifty thousand pounds in +gold and the valuables stolen from the bank, what sense is there in +dashing through the place as he did to-night and then taking a bigger +risk by doubling back past us and stealing what at the most can barely +have been a hundred pounds in all?" + +"Do you think he doubled back, sir? Don't you think the dash through the +town was a trick to draw everyone away so as to leave the way clear for +a second man to do the burgling?" + +"I don't see who the second man could be. The handkerchief shows Eustace +was the man who was with him at Taloona. I don't think he has another +man with him now. He is doing it single-handed and seems to be enjoying +it, too." + +"We ought to be able to pick up his tracks in the morning, if he doubled +back." + +"Yes, if those fools have not smothered them. I'll see to that. I'll be +away with the dawn. Mind you, no one is to know." + +"You can be sure of that, sir," Brennan answered. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +LOVE'S CONQUEST + + +In the grey half light which is neither night nor day, Durham saddled +his horse in the station yard. + +No one was stirring in the township as he passed slowly along the road, +but lest there should happen to be anyone who might see him, he turned +into the bush at the first opening he came to. Only then did he set his +horse at a faster pace, riding direct for the range to pick up the track +leading to the hidden pool. + +The air was soft and cool, with filmy streaks of vapour floating amid +the trees. As he cantered along, the mist rose and formed a pearly haze +overhead into which there came a tinge of pink, dissipating it, before +the colour could grow into a deeper tone, to reveal the clear sky, blue +as a sapphire and bright with the first rays of the rising sun. + +In long swinging strides his horse carried him easily, and his spirits +rose above the gloom which had weighed upon him since the evening before +when, for the third time, he had been foiled by the mysterious Rider. + +There had been little sleep for him during the night. Had the discovery +of Eustace and the raid of the town been the only events of the day he +might have succeeded in banishing them from his mind sufficiently to +allow himself to sleep. But there was more than these, disquieting as +they were, to fill him with restlessness. The way in which Mrs. Burke +had rebuffed him on the previous evening, the hostility of manner she +had displayed towards him up to the time he and Brennan left Waroona +Downs, weighed upon him. + +He could not account for the change which had come over her. From the +time he arrived from Taloona she had always shown kindliness and +gentleness towards him, even when, during the early days of his +convalescence, he had been impatient and exacting. Nor could he find a +reason for the change in the brief profession he had made of his love +for her. Had that been the cause she would, he argued, have shown it the +morning after; but she had met him then with the same light-hearted +raillery with which she had greeted him every morning he had been in her +house. Only when Brennan arrived on the scene had she suddenly developed +antagonism. + +There must be some other reason for her anger than his declaration of +love. For hours he had sought for it, cudgelling his brain to discover +an explanation; but only now, as he cantered along through the bush with +his spirits rising in harmony with the glories of an Australian dawn, +did illumination come to him. + +"Oh, my love, why have you come so late to me!" + +Through the sombre shade of his brooding there flashed the memory of +the scene when he had heard those words spoken. Like the touch of a +magic wand the memory changed gloom to sunshine, shadow into light. + +It was not because he had professed his love for her that she had been +displeased; it was because he was going from her, leaving her house, +parting with her perhaps for all time. + +What a fool he had been not to know that earlier. Of course, she had +repelled him when he had spoken on the previous evening, repelled him, +not because she resented, but because she, like all of her sex, could +not yield the truth at the first asking. + +Yet why should he have doubted with the memory of that earlier scene in +his mind? He asked himself the question and answered it frankly. + +He doubted for the reason that still he did not know whether that memory +was of a real scene, or was merely a figment of a delirium-haunted +brain. If he could be sure, then no more need he doubt; but how was he +to be sure? There was only one way--only one person in all the world who +could tell him whether he was right or not--Nora Burke alone could say +whether he had been dreaming. + +Some day he would ask her to tell him, some day, after he had asked and +compelled her to answer that other question which had now become +insistent. For the time the mystery of the Rider occupied a second place +in his thoughts; yet the trend of his mind unconsciously brought it +again to the front. + +The mission on which he had set out was one which might clear away the +initial obstacle in the pathway of his love; he might locate the +hiding-place of the Rider; might secure a clue to his identity; might, +by great good fortune, discover the stolen money. + +If he could only do that, if he could only go back to the bank with the +news that he had recovered the stolen gold, five thousand pounds would +be his. Then he would be able to go to Mrs. Burke without the feeling, +unbearable to a man of his temperament, that he, a poor man, was +aspiring to one who had money, and who might attribute to that money the +secret of his fascination. + +By the time the sun showed above the trees, he was up to the outlying +spurs of the range and nearing the ridge along which he had previously +followed the tracks of the two horsemen. With the knowledge he had +gained how the track turned and twisted, he set his horse to the rising +ground, and rode steadily and cautiously until he arrived at the summit +of the steep immediately above where the creek entered the pool. + +Below him was the narrow sandy strip running round the edge of the +water, and even from where he was he could see the marks of the horses' +hoofs upon it. His glance wandered from the shore over the surface of +the pool. It was a long sheet of water, more an exaggerated reach in a +stream than a lake, for except along the sandy margin below him, the +water everywhere rippled right up to the dense verdure-clad slopes of +the hills. + +A curious discolouration appeared in a streak across the pool at the +far end. The otherwise clear water was marred by a ledge of rock which +stretched from one side of the pool to the other and came so near the +surface as to give a suggestion of muddiness to the water. + +Dismounting, he led his horse to a sheltered gully, and securely +tethered him to a tree. Then, with his carbine on his arm and his +revolver pouch unfastened, he walked down to the dry bed of the creek +and followed it to the mouth. + +Fresh marks were on the soft ground near the water, coming from the end +of the pool where the streak of muddy water showed, and passing onwards +round the pool. He decided to go in the same direction, and for a few +yards walked along the level before he discovered other hoof-prints, +equally clear, going the opposite way. The horseman, whoever he might +be, had both come and gone within the past few hours, but Durham was +uncertain which way had been the last. + +Leaving the level ground he forced a way through the thick herbage +growing on the bank above and crept forward. As he went he obtained +through the foliage an occasional glimpse of the track below, until the +bank rose so steeply and the vegetation became so dense that he had to +climb higher to move along at all. Presently he came to an easier grade, +and was able to see once more the margin of the pool, but he was +surprised to discover that all marks of the horses had ceased. + +He crept down to the water. Looking back, he saw that the bank, on the +top of which he had been, ran out to the water's edge, forming a +barrier across the track and terminating in a steep bluff jutting out +into the pool. + +Crouching almost to the ground, Durham crawled through the undergrowth +until he reached the summit of the bluff, and was able to see once more +the narrow sandy strip which skirted the bank and formed the margin of +the shore. + +Peering through the low-growing shrubs he saw how the bluff fell away in +a precipitous descent on the other side down to where the narrow strip +widened out into a level space screened by a clump of bushes reaching +from the high bank to the water. The whole of this space was trampled +upon, and it was evident that horsemen had been there frequently and +recently. + +A step forward showed him something more. Right under the bank a dark +patch showed. It was the mouth of a cave. + +He listened intently, but no sound came to him, and he again crept +forward until he was able to see into the cave. It was low-roofed, and +formed by rocks which had fallen loosely together, and over which +vegetable soil had accumulated. + +Satisfied it was empty, he advanced boldly towards it. As he pushed +between the shrubs which grew close up to it, he caught sight of what, +in the shadow, looked like a crouching man. In a moment his carbine was +thrown forward and he was about to challenge, when he realised he was +aiming at a heap of clothes. + +He stepped into the cave. The clothes lay in a carelessly thrown heap, +and with them, half hidden, was a false beard of long yellow hair. + +Picking it up, he held it at arm's length. So the Rider was disguised +after all! + +The flimsy thing brought clearly back to him the features of the man as +he had twice seen him. The close-clipped fair hair, the light sandy +eyebrows, the peculiarly light lashes which gave so sinister an +expression to the eyes, were distinct; but when he tried to reconstruct +the face as it would be without the beard, he was baffled. The form of +the nose, the moulding of the chin, the shape of the mouth, had been +hidden by the disguise, and without a knowledge of them Durham could not +grasp fully what the man was like. As Harding had expressed himself, +when describing the face he had seen at the window of the bank, it was +the impression of a familiar face disguised, and yet a familiar face +which could not be located. + +Beyond that he could not go. + +He picked up the clothes and examined them. They were of nondescript +grey, such as can be bought by the hundred at any bush store in +Australia, and were similar to what the man was wearing the night he +visited Waroona Downs. The hat was missing, as Durham expected it would +be. The pockets were empty. + +Replacing the articles as nearly as possible in the position in which he +found them, Durham turned his attention to the cave itself. + +The floor was rough and uneven. What sand clustered in the hollows was +too much trampled upon to reveal any detail of the feet that had walked +upon it. + +There were innumerable nooks and crannies where articles could be +stored, but in every instance they contained nothing. Nowhere could he +find anything more than the clothes. + +He went to the mouth and stood peering round to see if there was another +similar cave near, but everywhere else the ground rose solid and +unbroken. + +In the open space under the shelter of the bluff where the ground had +been so much trampled by horses, the wheel-marks of a vehicle also +showed. He walked over and examined them carefully. + +They were the marks of what was evidently an old and rackety conveyance. +One of the wheels was loose and askew on the axle, with the result that +it made a wobbly mark on the ground, while the tyres on all the wheels +were uneven in width and badly worn. + +"Almost as ancient as old Dudgeon's rattle-trap," Durham said to himself +as he looked at the marks. + +The story, fanciful as he had regarded it at the time, of the buggy +driven by two men with a pair of white horses, the story told by the +travelling bushmen the day the bank robbery was discovered, recurred to +him. If this was the vehicle in which the gold had been carried off, and +the wheel-marks he was looking at had been made by it, then that gold +was probably secreted somewhere in his immediate vicinity. + +The thick-growing shrubs and stunted gums made it difficult for him to +see far from where he stood. The level stretch along the margin of the +pool showed clear enough, but around him the vegetation was so dense +that, unless he had some clue to guide him, to prosecute a search within +it was like trying the proverbial search for a needle in a haystack. + +During the time that had elapsed since those wheel-marks had been made +they had been greatly obliterated, but it was still possible to +distinguish where the vehicle had been stopped, for the horses had +turned suddenly, and the wheels cut deep as they came round. He stepped +to the spot. Later tramplings had removed all clear traces of footmarks. +Nothing was now to be learned from that source. + +His eyes swept along the line of shrubs which fringed the open space. A +twig, snapped near the stem, dangled, its leaves brown and withered. It +was a finger pointing where someone had forced a way through. + +Durham went down on his knees beside the shrub. Near the root the bark +had been stripped for a couple of inches, the scar showing brown, while +in the soil the impression of a heavy boot was just distinguishable. + +On hands and knees he pushed his way between the stems. Other footmarks, +old and faint, showed, and he crept along with his eyes on them. Some +weeks before there had evidently been much coming and going through the +scrub at this point. Looking straight ahead he saw the grey sheen of a +sun-dried log. He stood up. The thick undergrowth reached to his +armpits, but through it, a couple of yards from where he stood, and ten +from the spot where the wheel-marks turned, was the fallen trunk of an +old dead tree. + +Such a log, hollow for the greater part of its length and absolutely +hidden by the shrubs growing round it, was exactly the place where +anything could be secreted, and remain secreted, for an indefinite +period. + +Pushing his way carefully through the tangle of shrubs he came upon it +at the root end. It had evidently fallen in some bygone bush-fire, the +jagged charred fragments showing where it had snapped off close to the +ground. The fire had eaten its way into the heart of the timber and +there was space enough in the cavity for a man to crouch. + +Stooping down, Durham peered into it. At the far end he saw, +indistinctly, a confused mass, pushed up closely. He reached in, but +could not touch it, without creeping into the opening. + +He looked round for something that would serve as a rake to pull the +articles out, but there was no loose stick sufficiently long near to +hand, and he did not want to cut one. Higher up the bank he saw one that +would suit his purpose and went to get it. + +As he returned with it in his hand he saw, at the other end of the log, +a patch of white on the ground. Going over to it he found it was caused +by a chalky powder which clustered thickly near the tree. + +This end of the log was also hollow, and in the cavity were a couple of +bags which, when he pulled them out, he found to be full of the chalky +powder. + +The white horses flashed into his mind as he looked at it. + +"The cunning scoundrel!" he exclaimed. "Even the horses were disguised." + +He replaced the bags, and went to the root end of the tree. With his +stick he was able to reach the objects stored in the hole, and pulled +one out. + +By the weight he knew what he had found, before he opened it--the bag +was full of gold. + +Slowly he drew everything out of the place. All the gold taken from the +bank and from Taloona lay at his feet, together with a miscellaneous +collection of jewellery wrapped up in a small square of canvas. But +there was no sign either of papers or bank-notes. + +It was out of the question for him to attempt to remove the treasure to +the bank there and then. All he could do was to make it as secure as +possible until, at a later day, he could return with a conveyance and +carry it back to the town. + +On the far side of the bluff he discovered a crevice formed by an +overhanging ledge. It was a place even more difficult to trace than the +fallen tree, and here he placed everything, keeping only a gold watch +which bore Harding's name. Then, having obliterated, as nearly as he +could, every mark which would be likely to reveal the hiding-place, he +made his way back to his horse. + +He rode to the margin of the pool, and walked along the track until he +was opposite the streak of mud stain in the water. The horse and +wheel-tracks turned towards it and, standing up in his stirrups, Durham +saw that the water shoaled with a wide ledge of rock running directly +into the pool. + +Putting his horse to it, the water was barely a foot deep on the rock +all the way across to the opposite bank. Here the horse and wheel-tracks +reappeared, turning sharp to the left through the bush, and passing over +a dwarf ridge from the summit of which he caught sight of the mountain +road where it turned down to the ford. + +Still following the tracks, they led him once more to the water's edge. +He entered it, and continued close to the shore until he suddenly +emerged on to the rock which formed the break in the road over which the +stream rippled. + +He rode on to the road and reined in his horse near the spot where he +had first seen the pool the night he was on his way to Waroona Downs. +Had he not just ridden along the track round the edge of the water, he +would not have believed it was there, so absolutely was it hidden from +the roadway. + +For a moment he hesitated whether to go on to Waroona Downs or return to +the township at once, and arrange for the treasure to be removed. But +the anxiety gnawing at his heart decided for him and he wheeled his +horse and set off at a canter for the station. + +As he came out to the level road he saw, riding towards him, the object +of his regard. Mounted on a fine dark chestnut she was coming along at a +hand gallop. She waved her hand as she caught sight of him, and he +pulled up to wait for her, watching, with more than admiration, the +magnificent seat she had and the easy grace with which she managed her +horse. + +"Oh, Mr. Durham, I'm so glad to see you," she cried as she came up. "I +am in such trouble about that old reprobate. Sure he's gone and I'm just +after riding into town to see if he is getting more of the wretched +drink. If I find him----" + +"Brennan will have him if he is in there, Mrs. Burke. You need not be +uneasy. I'll inquire as soon as I return. I am on my way----" + +"Oh, but I can't," she interrupted. "What would they say if ever it got +to Ireland that I let the old fool fall into the hands of the police +over a trifle like this--for it's only a trifle they would call it in +Ireland, Mr. Durham. Sure if it were known there, and you may be certain +he'd leave no stone unturned to make it public, they'd boycott me and +all my belongings, if they didn't do something worse." + +"Then it would be better for you not to go back there," he said, smiling +at her. + +She gave him a sidelong glance with her head on one side. + +"Not go back there? And what should I be doing anywhere else with all my +responsibilities waiting over there for me?" she asked coquettishly. + +"You may have responsibilities over here as well, some which would----" + +"Oh, now, you're making fun of me, Mr. Durham," she exclaimed. "What's a +bit of a place like this with never even a single pig on it, let alone +all the sheep and cattle it ought to have, to keep me from my own home? +When I get stock on the place it might keep me here, but sure where's +the money to come from to buy the creatures if I don't go back and sell +everything I possess to pay for them?" + +"Won't you turn back, Mrs. Burke? I was riding out to see you. I want +to--ask you something." + +"Ask me something? What, more police questions? No, no thanks, Mr. +Durham. They don't agree with my constitution--nor my temper." + +"It is not a police question," he said seriously. "It is to +do--with--with yourself." + +A merry peal of mocking laughter answered him. + +"Come along now, come to the township with me before they get poor old +Patsy where it would break his honest old heart to be." + +She started her horse. + +"Come along now," she called over her shoulder, flashing a mischievous +glance back at him. + +He had no alternative but to follow, and he cantered to her side. + +"It would teach him a good lesson, Mrs. Burke, if you let him spend a +few days in the lock-up," he said. "It would give him a chance to get +really sober, whereas, if he keeps on getting drink, you will have him +out of his mind." + +"Now you're trying to frighten me, Mr. Durham. Sure, what sort of a man +is it I've met this morning? I believe you'd like to see old Patsy +inside a cell, and then maybe you'd be after me too." + +"I might be," he answered. + +"What would you give me? Six months hard or just a caution?" + +"I should offer you something entirely different," he said in a serious +tone of voice. "I should offer you----" + +"Oh, yes, it's a lot you police people offer folk. Sure they have to +take what is given them, whether they like it, or want it, or not." + +"I may not always be one of the police people, as you term us," he said. + +"Are you thinking of joining the ministry?" she exclaimed. "I'd like to +hear you preach your first sermon, Mr. Durham. I'd come twenty miles in +the rain for it." + +The mockery in her voice irritated him, and his face showed it. + +"Oh, now, Mr. Durham, don't talk nonsense. What would become of the +place if you left the force of which you are such an ornament? It's +fairy tales you are telling me. And you have never said a word yet about +your journey. What news did you hear when you reached Waroona?" + +"I suppose you have not heard about Eustace?" he asked. + +"Eustace? What's the matter with Eustace now?" + +"He was found yesterday." + +The jerk she gave the bridle brought her horse back on his haunches, and +Durham was a couple of lengths past her before he could bring his horse +round. When he turned she was allowing her horse to walk, the bridle +hanging loose. + +"Eustace was found yesterday?" she asked in a dazed tone as she came up +to him. "Found yesterday? Is that the news you had to give me?" + +"It was not to tell you of that I was on my way to Waroona Downs," he +replied. "Though I should probably have mentioned it." + +"Where was he found, Mr. Durham? I suppose he is arrested now?" + +All the raillery had gone from her voice, which had grown so sorrowful +that he looked at her wonderingly. + +"He was not alive when he was found," he said quietly, still watching +her. + +Her hands convulsively clutched the bridle, and her mouth twitched. + +"Oh, Mr. Durham, how awful! What a terrible thing! Oh, poor Mrs. +Eustace! Sure I'm glad I'm going into the town, for I'll be able to see +the poor thing. Is she much upset? But she is sure to be." + +"It is a great trial for her. She will be very glad to see you, I should +think," he answered. + +"Oh, well, well; what a funny thing life is, Mr. Durham. One never +knows. It's all a muddled-up sort of affair at the best. If only people +could do what is in them to do, instead of being placed in positions +where there is only sadness and trouble crowding in on them and crushing +them out of existence! It's a weary world, very, very weary." + +"We can only take it as we find it, and make the best of it," he said. +"You must not allow this to worry you. Perhaps, after all, it is the +best thing that could have happened for him. There are worse things +than death. Think what it would have been for Mrs. Eustace had he been +captured and sent to penal servitude. Her whole life would have been +ruined. We see so much of that in cases where the husband gives way. It +is the wife who suffers most, Mrs. Burke." + +"Oh, I know, I know," she exclaimed in a tone so full of sadness that he +feared he had touched on some secret grief. + +He rode beside her in silence, not knowing what to say lest he added to +her distress, but yet tormented by the idea that he should speak out +what was in his heart and learn, once and for all, whether his hopes +were to be realised or shattered. Keeping slightly behind her, he was +able to watch her without her knowing it. She was staring between her +horse's ears, her lips tightly closed, her head erect, and her cheeks +pale. Lost, apparently, in the reverie his words had called up, she +seemed to have forgotten his presence as a mile went by without her +turning her head or opening her lips. + +But she had not forgotten he was there. At a turn in the road she +uttered a sharp exclamation and held out her hand, pointing. + +"Oh, it is too bad," she exclaimed bitterly. "It is too much for anyone +to bear. Look at that!" + +Away down the road Durham saw a horse and rider. The horse was making +its own way, the rider having as much as he could do to keep in the +saddle. He was swaying from side to side, occasionally waving his arms +in the air and howling out a tuneless ditty in a strident cracked voice. + +"Old Patsy," Durham said shortly. + +"Oh, what will I do?" she exclaimed. + +"Better let me take him back and give him a few days where he will have +time to recover his senses, I think," he said. + +She flashed a furious glance at him. + +"I shall do no such thing," she snapped. "The best thing you can do is +to get out of sight before he sees you. He hates you, Mr. Durham. +Irishmen of his class always hate the police. The sight of you will only +aggravate him in his present state." + +"He is not in a fit state to return with you," Durham said. + +"Oh, I can manage him if I'm left alone with him," she replied. + +"But I shall not leave you with him," he said firmly. + +"You must; you must," she exclaimed sharply. Then, as though a mask had +fallen from her, the expression of her face changed and she leaned +towards him, laying her hand on his bridle arm. "Oh, yes, please, for my +sake. For the sake of--of what I said you--you were not to mention +again--will you--please will you do this?" + +Her wonderful eyes, soft and melting with a look of appeal, were turned +full upon his; her red lips pouted and her voice thrilled with a winning +gentleness. + +"Please, please do this for me. I would not ask it, only I know--I +know--I can ask _you_." + +Her voice sank to a whisper, more alluring, more devastating upon him +than when she spoke before. So taken aback, and yet so elated was he at +her change of manner, that he could not answer her at once. + +"You were coming to tell me again--I read it in your face. Oh, do this +for me now. Leave me alone with him. Come and see me to-morrow. Come and +tell me then--tell me--what I want to hear." + +"Nora!" + +The word escaped him in a gasp. What she wanted to hear! Were his ears +playing him false? Was he dreaming? He had his hands on hers, holding it +with a grip of a strong man stirred to the depths, crushing the fingers +one on the other, but there was no waver in the eyes that looked with so +much entreaty into his. + +"Leave me now before he sees you, before he gets here. I can manage him +best alone. Look, he is hastening. Oh, don't wait. Ride away into the +bush. I appeal to you--in the name of my love for you. Dearest--go!" + +The tumult surged up and over him; had she bidden him at that moment to +ride into the jaws of death, he would have galloped, shouting his +delight. Nothing else counted with him then, nothing but her wish. +Bending down he pressed her hand to his lips. + +"Go--go--quickly--dearest!" he heard. + +"Till to-morrow, Beloved, till to-morrow," he answered, as, pulling his +horse's head round, he drove his spurs home and plunged into the bush, +racing in the wild abandon of his joy. + +What did it matter that a drunken old Irishman was saved from arrest? He +would probably have contented himself with warning the old reprobate to +get home as quickly and as quietly as he could. But she did not know +that. All she could do was to think how to save her foolish servant from +the penalty of his folly--how like her that was, how like the great +warm-hearted noble creature she was! Pride in her, pride, love, +adoration, welled up in his heart. The yearning of his soul was +satisfied, the longing of his being set at rest. + +Her love was his! In that knowledge all the contradictions of her +attitude became clear. She had only sought to hide the truth from him +lest he should think her too easily won. He laughed aloud as he +galloped. + +Too easily? + +No matter how great the sacrifice he had been called upon to make, it +would have ranked as nothing if, at the end of it, her open arms were +waiting to enfold him. But there was no sacrifice, no toll to be exacted +from him. Of her own initiative she had sounded the note which called +him to her and made her his. To-morrow he would ride out to her, not +alone to give her the pledge of his affections, but to carry to her the +tidings of his discovery. Although he had not yet recovered her papers, +he would be able to assure her that he would have them as soon as he +captured the man who stole them, the man who had murdered Eustace, the +Rider whose hiding-place he had discovered. + +For there was no doubt in his mind about that capture. Once let the +gold be safely removed to the bank, he would return to the cave and wait +till, as he was certain would happen sooner or later, the Rider came for +his disguise. + +Then Nora Burke should have her papers returned in safety, and he would +have won more than the promised five thousand pounds reward. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +DUDGEON PROPOSES + + +For the first time since the outrage at Taloona, Dudgeon visited +Waroona. + +He drove up to Soden's hotel in the old rackety buggy at a crawl, for +his horse had gone dead lame on the way. At the time he arrived Patsy +was making ineffectual attempts to mount his horse for the ride which +led to so dramatic a turning in Durham's romance, having just staggered +out of the bar highly indignant because Soden had refused to allow him +to have anything more to drink on the premises. + +"Have you a horse I can borrow from you, Soden? My old crock has gone in +the off hind-leg and wants a rest. Can you let me have one to get back?" +Dudgeon called out. + +"I'll have to send out to the paddock, Mr. Dudgeon, but I'll have one in +by four this afternoon, if that will suit you." + +"It'll have to suit, I suppose," Dudgeon replied. "I didn't want to hang +about the place so long, but if you'll have it in by four I'll be here +ready to start. I'll leave the buggy with you." + +While they were talking Patsy and his horse were slowly going round and +round, the old man missing the stirrup every time he put his foot up, +and only avoiding a fall by hanging on to the bridle so firmly that he +pulled the horse round at each ineffectual attempt to mount. + +"Give him a leg up, Jim," Soden said to his barman. + +Old Patsy, with the help of the barman, managed to clamber into the +saddle, where he sat for a few minutes swaying unsteadily before he +started to ride off through the town. + +"Where's he from?" Dudgeon asked, looking after him. + +"Oh, that's Mrs. Burke's Irish body-guard," Soden said. "Says he should +never have left Ireland, and I agree with him. There'll be trouble out +at the Downs some of these days, if she doesn't clear him out or he +gives over drinking. Don't you serve him any more, do you hear, Jim? +Hand him over to Brennan if he comes in again," he added to his barman. + +"Well, what's the news?" Dudgeon exclaimed as he got out of his buggy +and limped over to Soden. + +"The leg's not all right yet, I see?" Soden said. + +"Oh, that's getting on. Anything fresh about the bank?" + +"Why, haven't you heard?" Soden cried. "They've found Eustace, found him +with a bullet through him, lying in the water at the ford in the range. +He's over there now," he added, jerking his head towards the +police-station. + +"What's that you say?" Dudgeon exclaimed, open-eyed and open-mouthed. + +"They found him only yesterday--the sub-inspector and the constable. And +last night, what do you think? His mate, the man with the beard who +stuck your place up, galloped through the town here, and afterwards, +when we were all out chasing him, doubled back on us and stole +everything he could lay his hands on." + +Dudgeon still stood staring open-mouthed and open-eyed. + +"There were only two places he missed, the bank and the cottage down the +road--Smart's place--where Mrs. Eustace is living." + +"Ah! Then that poor thing's a widow?" + +"That's so," Soden replied. "But, between you and me, I don't think for +long. You know she and Harding--he's our new bank manager, by the +way--are old friends, Mr. Dudgeon, and from what I hear from Jim, my +barman, who's got his eye on the girl Mrs. Eustace has, they're pretty +good friends now, if not a bit more. I shouldn't be surprised, speaking +as between man and man, to see her back at the bank again before many +years are over, that is, if young Harding stays on here." + +"Oh!" Dudgeon exclaimed. "Oh!" + +"He's a fine young fellow, Mr. Dudgeon, and you ought to be interested +in him, for he was the first to look after you when you were knocked +over. But, here, won't you come in for a bit? You're in no-hurry." + +"Yes, I am," Dudgeon replied. "I'm in town on business, and when I have +business to do, Mr. Soden, I do it. See?" + +"It's a good plan." + +"Yes, it's a very good plan. So I'll move along. Don't forget to have +that horse in sharp at four--I don't like waiting." + +He limped away down the road and Soden turned back into his house. + +"Old Dudgeon don't seem to have lost much of his sourness since he was +laid out," he said to his barman as he passed. "He's never been inside +this door since I've been here, and they say he hadn't been in for years +before then. Queer old chap he is. I wonder if he is mixed up with the +Rider?" + +Limping along, Dudgeon made straight for Smart's cottage and knocked at +the door. + +"I've come to see Mrs. Eustace," he said gruffly when Bessie answered. + +"I'm sorry, sir, but Mrs. Eustace can't see anyone to-day. It's----" + +"You go and tell her it's me, do you hear? Mr. Dudgeon of Taloona. I'll +come in and sit down till she's ready." + +He pushed the door wide open and stepped inside. + +"But Mrs. Eustace, sir----" Bessie began. + +"Did I speak loud enough for you to hear, or didn't I?" + +"Yes, sir, but----" + +"Then go and tell Mrs. Eustace I'm here." + +He was nearly at the door of the sitting-room when Mrs. Eustace, having +heard his voice, reached the passage. + +"Ah," he exclaimed. "I want to talk to you. Just come in here, will +you?" + +He held the door open for her and waited till she passed in. Then he +followed and closed the door. + +"Just excuse me one minute," he said as he remained standing by the door +which he suddenly flung open again. + +"I thought so," he cried, as he saw Bessie in the passage. "You clear +out of it. What I've got to say to Mrs. Eustace don't concern you, nor +Jim the barman. Do you hear?" + +Bessie heard, and scurried. + +"It's only fair to tell you," he said, turning to Mrs. Eustace, "that +what that girl sees and hears here goes to Jim the barman who, if you +don't know it, tells Soden, and Soden tells the town. You understand?" + +He limped across the room and sat down. + +"I've come in to tell you something," he went on. "When I got here I +heard the news. But that makes no difference to what I had to tell you. +I can still tell you. But I must say something else first. You wouldn't +stay on at Taloona when I asked you, but that was your business. Now +this has come to you. I'm no hand at talking sympathy, but if you want +anything that I can get for you it's yours--you understand?" + +He leaned forward, with his hands on his knees, looking her steadily in +the face. + +"Thank you, Mr. Dudgeon, I--I understand," she said haltingly. + +"That's what I thought you'd say," he remarked as he sat back. "I know +it's a sad business for you, as it stands, and I'd rather you never had +it. You're the first woman I've felt that way about for more years than +you've lived. But I'm sorry for you, hang me if I'm not." + +"It is--good of you to say so," she murmured. + +"Still, you're young, and there are many years before you which won't be +all sad, you may be sure. But now you're a widow will you come to +Taloona?" + +She looked up quickly without replying. + +"I don't care how it is. You can make it your home as a guest, or you +can come as Mrs. Dudgeon." + +"Oh, please, Mr. Dudgeon," she exclaimed as she stood up. "You--I know +you don't mean to hurt me, but----" + +She broke off and turned away. + +"It wasn't said to hurt you," he said. "It was only to show you what I'd +do for you. Seemed to me it was the best way to put it. I only want you +to understand I'm with you whatever comes along. Will you take it that +way?" + +"I know," she exclaimed impulsively, as she crossed over to him and laid +her hand on his shoulder. "I know how you mean it, Mr. Dudgeon, and I +appreciate it more than I can say. It was the----" + +"The clumsy way I put it," he said, as she hesitated. "That's all right. +Don't mind speaking out your mind to me--you used to pretty well when I +shied at that physic you poured into me a few weeks back." + +"I should have asked how the leg is," she said leaping at the opening to +change the subject. "Is it still very painful?" + +"Oh, it comes and goes," he replied. "Mostly goes." + +"Don't you think it would be a good thing if you took the doctor's +advice now and went away for a change and a rest? It would make you all +right again in a few months. The hard, rough life you lead at Taloona +makes it very difficult for you to get up your strength after the +experience you have had." + +He smiled grimly--his facial muscles had been so long strangers to +anything approaching tokens of mirth or pleasure that they did not move +easily. + +"I suppose it is a bit rough out there," he said. "But then, you see, +I'm used to a rough life--I've had it all my days. Is that why you +wouldn't stay? Was it too rough for you?" + +He looked round the little sitting-room in which she had the furniture +and nicknacks from her room at the bank. + +"There's a bit of a difference I will say," he went on as she did not +reply. "It's a flower-garden to a stock-yard to compare this room with +the hut you had out at Taloona. Look here. I'll build a new house, build +it as big as you like or as little as you like, and you shall furnish it +and fit it up just as you fancy--if you'll only make it a home for +yourself." + +She shook her head. + +"No, Mr. Dudgeon, I am afraid that is impossible," she said. "At the +same time, I want to thank you very much for what you say." + +"Look here," he exclaimed. "I don't want thanks. You know what my life +has been--I told you the story often enough when I was lying sick and +you were waiting on me like an angel--oh, I mean it," he added, as she +looked up. "Just let me say what I've got to say. When you came back +here, and I was by myself again, I began to think. Somehow the old views +didn't seem quite to fit together. There was something wrong somewhere +and I reckon that somewhere was me. I've put a wrong twist on things. It +never struck me there was more than one woman in the world who could do +anything to make me contented. So I set out to make money. I made it, +made it by the ton. And now I've got it what's the good of it to me?" + +"There is no limit to the good it may be if it is properly applied, Mr. +Dudgeon." + +"Where will it do good?" he exclaimed. "That's just what I want to know. +Tell me." + +"There are hospitals," she said. "And schools. You might found +scholarships for poor students to----" + +"And chapels and missions and dogs' homes--go on, trot out the whole +list," he interrupted. "None of them will ever get a pennypiece out of +me. More than half the money given to them goes to keep a lot of lazy, +patronising officials in luxury--I know--I've come in contact with them +when they have been cadging after me for subscriptions. They cringe till +they find out there's nothing for them, and then they snarl. I've no +time for that sort of people, no time nor money either." + +"Then I hardly know what to suggest," she said, "unless----" + +"Unless what?" + +"You helped Mrs. O'Guire and her children, if she has any." + +His mouth went into its old hard lines, and he sat silent for a time. + +"It's no good talking about that," he said presently. "The best thing I +can do for them is not to think about them--I'd be after them again if I +do--if I could find them. Help them? No. I'd rather give the money to +the Government to build gaols. Can't you think of anything else?" + +"I'm afraid I cannot," she answered. "But I am still sure your money +will do good if it is properly applied." + +"Ah, that's it. If it's properly applied. I'm an old man now. How am I +to apply it? There's only one way that I can see, and that is what I am +going to do with it. I'm going to give it away. What do you think of +that?" + +"If you give it away where it will do good I think it is a very +excellent idea," she answered. + +"You know that youngster at the bank, don't you? Young Harding, I mean." + +"Yes," she replied. + +"Do you think he is a man to be trusted?" + +"I know he is, Mr. Dudgeon." + +"I'll take your word for it," he said as he stood up. "I'll get along +and see him. You can let him know if you want anything and he'll send +on word to me. I'll look in again next time I'm passing. Good-bye." + +He held out his hand, hard, knotted, and roughened with toil, and she +placed hers in it. His fingers closed on hers, and he stood looking into +her eyes till she grew uncomfortable under the scrutiny. + +"I'd give everything I've got in the world," he said hoarsely, "for a +daughter like you." + +He dropped her hand and limped quickly to the door, opening it and going +out without looking back. + +Through the window she saw him pass along the road towards the bank, his +head up in the old defiant way, the limp robbing his stride of much of +its sturdiness. Without a glance at the cottage he passed out of sight. + +Right through the town he walked until he came to the bank. + +Harding, looking up at the sound of footsteps, was surprised to see him +limping to the counter. + +"Good day, Mr. Dudgeon," he exclaimed. + +"Do you know how to make a will?" the old man asked, without replying to +the greeting. + +"That is more the work of a solicitor than a banker, Mr. Dudgeon." + +"Oh, I know all about that. If it's going to be a long, muddled, +complicated affair a solicitor's the man to go to. But that's not what I +want. I want to make a will leaving everything I possess to just one +person. I'm no hand with a pen, so I thought you might be able to do it +for me." + +"Mr. Wallace is inside; perhaps he could advise you better." + +"Well, I'll see him." + +Remembering his last interview with the crotchety old man, Wallace was +particularly circumspect when he met him. + +"What I want is this," Dudgeon exclaimed. "I want to say it in such a +manner that there can be no questioning the thing afterwards, that is +when I'm gone, you understand?" + +"I understand," Wallace replied. + +"I want to leave everything I possess to one person. If that is written +on a sheet of paper and I sign it, isn't that enough?" + +"If your signature is witnessed by two persons." + +"Then go ahead. Write it out for me. You and this young man can be +witnesses." + +"It is an unusual thing for the Bank to do, Mr. Dudgeon; but if you +really wish it, of course we shall be only too happy to oblige you. +Don't you think Mr. Gale----" + +"No," the old man snapped. "I've finished with Gale." + +"Then will you come into my room and we will do the best we can for +you." + +Wallace drew up a simple form of a will and read it through aloud. + +"I have left the name blank," he said. "If this expresses what you wish, +you can fill in the name and sign it, either before Harding and myself +or two other people." + +Dudgeon took it and read it through again. + +"That'll do," he said. He put it on the table in front of Harding. "Fill +in Mrs. Eustace's name--I don't know it," he added. + +Harding wrote the name in the blank space, the name of one who, in +another minute, would rank amongst the greatest heiresses of the world. + +"That is the full name," he said as he handed back the document to +Dudgeon. + +He looked at it. + +"Jessie, is it?" he said. "Jessie Eustace, nee Spence. There is no +chance of a mistake being made, is there? Hadn't you better add whose +wife she was?" + +"If you wish it." + +"And say where she is living now, and where she came from before she +came here. I don't want this to go wrong. I want to make sure she will +get everything." + +When the additions were made he read the whole document through once +more. + +"Yes, that seems to fix it," he said. "Give me a pen." + +The signature affixed, and witnessed, he looked from one to the other. + +"I'll take your word to keep the matter secret till I'm gone," he said. +"I don't feel like dying just yet, but one never knows, and, in the +meantime, I don't want this known. She don't know, and if she does, it +will only be through one of you two talking." + +"You may rest assured, Mr. Dudgeon, that both Mr. Harding and myself +will respect your confidence and hold the matter absolutely secret," +Wallace replied. + +"That's good enough," he said. + +Turning to Harding, he added, "I'll leave this in your charge. If I go, +see that she gets it. Good day." + +He was at the door when Wallace spoke. + +"Will you not stay and have some refreshment, after your long drive in?" +he said. + +Dudgeon looked over his shoulder, with his hand on the door-handle. + +"That's all I want from you," he replied. + +"There is one other matter," Harding exclaimed. "If this will ever has +to be used, we have no information what property you are leaving." + +Dudgeon let go the handle and faced round. + +"Young man," he said, "you've got a head on you. Just sit down and I'll +tell you, and you can write them down." + +Leaving the two together, Wallace went to the outer office. + +"I am glad he's gone," Dudgeon remarked. "This don't concern him." + +Then he reeled off a list of properties, securities, cash deposits, and +other possessions, dazzling in their value and variety. + +The name of a firm of lawyers in a southern city was added. + +"That's the lot," he said unconcernedly. "I needn't tell you to see she +has her rights. Give me your hand, my lad. I hope she shares it with +you." + +Without another word he was gone. + +Harding was still running his eye over the list of properties Dudgeon +had dictated when he heard Wallace call. + +"All right. We'll come in," Wallace added, and appeared with Durham at +his heels. + +"Do you know this?" Durham asked, as he held out his hand. + +"My watch! Where on earth did you find it?" Harding cried. + +"It is yours?" + +"It's the one which disappeared from under my pillow the night the bank +was robbed." + +"I thought so." + +"Have you found anything more?" Wallace asked breathlessly. + +"All the money and a lot of jewellery. I would like Mr. Harding to come +along with me to-night to the place where I have it hidden. We can bring +it in quietly without anyone knowing. But till then, don't let this be +seen, and don't breathe a word of what I have told you. Now I've got the +money I want to make sure of the man." + +Wallace slapped him warmly on the back. + +"You're a marvel, Durham. I knew you'd do it somehow, but I'm bothered +if I could see how. May I wire to head office?" + +"Not till to-night, Mr. Wallace. When the stuff is handed over to you +will be time enough." + +"How about Mr. Dudgeon's money?" + +"It's there, too." + +"He's in town. Will you tell him?" + +"Not a word, Mr. Wallace. You are the only people I mention it to; not +even Brennan will be told about it till it's here." + +"Well, you know more about these things than I do, so your word's law. +But I shall be glad to let the head office know--I want to have the +general manager's authority to do what I told you was going to be done." + +Durham smiled in answer. So did he want the general manager to authorise +what was to be the news he wished to give Mrs. Burke on the morrow. With +five thousand pounds behind him he anticipated less difficulty in +persuading her to postpone her intended return to Ireland, postpone it +long enough, at all events, for her to go, not as Mrs. Burke, but as +Mrs. Durham. + +He stood at the door chatting to Wallace before going on to the station, +when Dudgeon rattled past in his old buggy drawn by a borrowed horse. + +He did not look towards the bank as he passed. + +"If I told him I suppose he'd scowl at me and say, 'Oh, have you?'" +Durham exclaimed as he watched the crazy old vehicle disappear along the +road. + +"You are sure his money is there too?" Wallace asked. + +"Quite." + +"That's curious." + +"Why? It was obviously stolen by the same man who robbed the bank, and +naturally they took it to the same spot." + +"Have you any idea who the men were--or rather the man, for I suppose +there is only one now to be considered?" + +"That is so," Durham answered. "Only one--and he may be--anybody." + +"You have no suspicions?" + +"I don't want any. If I begin suspecting different persons I may miss +the real individual. As matters stand, I know where, sooner or later, I +shall meet him under conditions which will identify him as the man I +want. The trap is set and the bird will be caught. That is all I can +say." + +"Have you heard what they are saying in the town?" + +"I've heard a good deal one way and another, but not to-day, as I have +been away since dawn. Is it anything special?" + +"Someone started the yarn last night, so Gale told me. There's an idea +that old Mr. Dudgeon is at the back of the whole affair; that he hired +the man they call the Rider to rob the bank in the first instance, so as +to prevent the sale of Waroona Downs being completed. Eustace is +supposed to have been bribed to join the conspiracy." + +"That's rather an ingenious theory. Whose is it?" + +"One of the men in the town; Gale did not mention his name. But he has +evolved a very workable theory--at least to my mind." + +"Let me hear it all," Durham said. + +"Well, when the bank had been robbed, and the second lot of gold was +hurried forward in time to save the situation, one part of the scheme +failed, for the sale of the property was completed. The Rider and his +mate--Eustace, as is generally believed--went out to Taloona to settle +up with the old man. They found you there and, to blind you as to the +real character of Dudgeon, they pretended to make him a prisoner. Then +you showed fight, Dudgeon was shot by the bullet intended for you, the +lamp was upset, and the place set on fire just as the troopers I sent +arrived on the scene." + +"That sounds all right as far as it goes. Is there any more?" + +"Oh, yes. Dudgeon being laid up delayed the settlement and the pair had +to wait--every time up to last night that the white horses have been +seen was on the Taloona road, you may remember, which adds colour to the +theory. Then they got tired of waiting and quarrelled between +themselves, with the result that one of them got killed. The general +idea is that they quarrelled over the division of the spoil, and, seeing +what you have discovered to-day, I am inclined to agree with it. Last +night's escapade was sheer bravado to mock at you and Brennan. What do +you think of the idea?" + +"Oh, it's all right, as far as it goes. When my man walks into the trap +waiting for him I may be able to tell you whether it is the correct +solution, but, for the present, I should neither accept nor reject it." + +"That is all you have to say about it?" + +"That is all; and now I must get along to the station. I'll be back in +an hour or so to tell Harding where to meet me." + +It was just on sunset when he returned to arrange for Harding to go out +with him about midnight. With Harding and Wallace he was standing at the +private entrance of the bank when, with a clatter, there dashed down the +road the horse and buggy in which Dudgeon had driven by during the +afternoon. + +The horse was galloping with the reins trailing behind it, the +splash-board was smashed and hanging loose, striking the horse at every +stride and adding to its panic. + +Durham and Harding rushed out to stop the runaway. It swerved to the +edge of the road, the buggy overbalanced and rolled over, the shafts +snapped, and the horse, breaking free, raced through the town. + +"Look!" Harding cried. "What has happened?" + +On the seat of the vehicle was an ugly red splash, while the floor was +smothered with blood. + +"Send along to Brennan to follow me, will you?" Durham exclaimed as he +sprang to his horse, which was standing at the door of the bank, mounted +it, and spurred away along the road the runaway had come. + +Four miles away on the Taloona road he found Dudgeon. + +The old man lay in a heap in the middle of the road, riddled with bullet +wounds, any one of which would have proved fatal. + +There were abundant signs of a fierce struggle. As Durham read the +indications, an attack had been made upon him while he was driving +along He had been shot and had struggled from the vehicle, probably +returning the fire, for there was the mark where another man had fallen +and added another red stain to the ground. Then the two had closed and, +in the contest which ensued, Dudgeon had gone down, his assailant +venting his mad rage by firing bullet after bullet into the prostrate +form. + +While he was still examining the marks Durham was joined by Brennan and +half a dozen of the townsmen who had ridden out in obedience to +Harding's warning. Durham drew Brennan aside. + +"I only have my revolver with me," he said. "Give me your carbine and +what cartridges you have. I must get away on his tracks before any of +the men lose their heads and ruin the chance of capture by smothering +them." + +"Give Brennan what help you can, will you?" he called out to the men who +stood by their horses looking, horror-stricken, at the lifeless form of +the old man. + +Mounting his horse he sped away. For a time he watched the track of a +horse which had galloped just off the road. It had evidently lacked a +firm hand on the bridle, for it seemed to have taken its own direction. + +The rider was wounded. Of that Durham was certain. + +Under such circumstances where would he go? + +As Durham turned his horse into the bush, making for the range where the +little cave was situated, he answered his own question. + +Riding at topmost speed, he reasoned as he rode. The other man had at +least two hours' start. With such a lead he could easily reach the cave +first if he could ride steadily. But he was wounded, and in that lay +Durham's hope of getting there before him. + +The light was waning by the time the commencement of the foothills was +reached. At the bottom of the gully lying at the foot of a ridge across +which he had to ride, Durham gave his horse a spell. The top of the +ridge rose steep and bare. As he looked towards it, estimating which was +the better direction to take to get to the cave, he heard the sounds of +a horse walking. + +Presently, on the sky-line, immediately above him, he saw a horse and +rider. There was just light enough for him to distinguish the form of +the man. + +He was clad in grey, the jacket open, his hat in his hand. He was a +bearded man--a man with a yellow beard. + +It was the Rider! + +Even as Durham watched, the man saw him, saw him and swung his horse +round so sharply it set back on its haunches. + +In another moment he would be flying away through the gathering gloom, +away into the broken fastnesses of the range, away, perhaps, for all +time, from capture. + +The horse was recovering itself. Durham threw his carbine forward and, +as the horse reared at the pain of the spurs driven into its side, he +fired. + +Amid the echoes of the report there came a sharp scream of agony. + +Durham leaped to his saddle and spurred his horse up the steep slope. + +When he reached the summit only the marks of the flying horse's hoofs +showed which way the man had gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +UNMASKED + + +The silvery sheen of the rising moon glittered on the surface of the +pool and lay over the sombre-foliaged bush as Durham came out upon the +top of the bluff above the Rider's cave. + +From the moment he reached the ridge to find only the marks made by the +plunging horse he had raced to get there first. Down the sharp slopes of +the gullies, across the dry, rock-strewn bed of the mountain-streams, up +the opposite steeps, with never a care for the risks he ran, he kept his +horse at its topmost speed, sparing neither spur nor lash to urge it +along. There was no time to choose the easy paths, no chance of picking +his way; every moment was of value, for he knew how the wounded outlaw +would make desperate haste to get to the shelter of his haven. + +The gloom of the bush ere the moon rose added to his difficulties. With +no landmark to serve as a guide he had to rely absolutely upon his +instinctive sense of locality, and kept steadily in the one direction, +although that meant riding over the rugged ground, barred by tumbled +boulders and thickly growing trees, which formed the almost precipitous +sides of the gullies. At any time a fall was possible; he carried his +life in his hands and knew it; but the ride was a race against odds, and +there was no time to heed. + +He was breasting the rise of what he believed to be the last of the +ridges he would have to cross, when the laboured breathing of his horse +told him it was almost done. Leaning forward in his saddle, he patted it +on the neck and spoke to it as a man who has realised the companionship +between himself and a favourite horse will do. Responding to the +encouragement, it mounted to the summit of the ridge and quickened its +pace as it felt it was on level ground again. But where the other ridges +had been flat on the top, this one was little more than a razor-back. No +sooner was the ascent completed than the descent began. The horse caught +in its stride to steady itself, tripped, stumbled, and came down. Durham +was flung over its head like a stone from a catapult. + +Fortunately he came to the ground on the broad of his back, though with +such force that he was momentarily stunned. His horse picked itself up +and stood trembling and panting long before he was able to scramble to +his feet. Even when he did so his head was spinning and he could barely +stand. + +With unsteady steps he went to his horse and took hold of the bridle. To +attempt to ride it further was obviously out of the question, and he led +it slowly down to the bottom of the slope, tethering it securely to a +tree in the shelter of the gully. Then, pulling himself together, he +set off up the opposite slope on foot. + +His head was still swimming from the concussion of his fall, and into it +there came the humming he had experienced after his adventure at +Taloona. It made him so dizzy that he sank down on a boulder, resting +his head on his hands until the humming and throbbing should pass. As he +sat there came a sound to his ears which made him start to his feet, +forgetful of the giddiness, forgetful of everything save the sound and +all that it signified. + +Through the silence of the bush came the measured tread of a walking +horse. + +It was evidently crossing the gully below, for, as he listened, the pace +quickened to a trot and then to a canter and then became suddenly faint +and muffled. + +In an instant Durham read the significance of it. The horse had crossed +the gully on to level ground and, urged by its rider, had cantered out +of hearing. Exactly such a thing would happen were the gully he had +crossed the one which came out on to the level sandy margin of the pool. + +The realisation sent a chill through him. The rise up which he was +climbing must be the ridge which formed the bluff above the cave. If he +were not over it quickly, the Rider would be the first at the cave and +Durham's scheme for his capture defeated. + +The thought drove the last vestige of dizziness from his brain. He faced +the slope and forced his way through the tangled undergrowth until he +came to the top and saw the moonlight gleaming on the surface of the +pool and illuminating with its silvery sheen the open space at the foot. + +There was no sign of the horse he expected to see, and no sound came +from the cave. With his carbine ready, he crept slowly and silently down +until he was at the mouth. A stray moonbeam fell upon the spot where he +had seen the clothes on his former visit. The spot was bare. + +He was about to step into the cavern when he heard the distant tread of +the horse. Quickly drawing back, he hid himself behind a clump of shrubs +which sheltered him, while leaving him a clear view in front up to the +line of bushes stretching from the bank to the water's edge. There he +waited, while the sound of the horse approaching became more and more +distinct. + +Presently it was so clear he could hear the snapping of the twigs of the +undergrowth as they were trampled down, and he levelled his carbine so +as to cover the man immediately he and his horse emerged from the line +of bushes. But when the animal appeared, for the moment Durham thought +it was riderless. Only when it reached the middle of the open space and +was almost directly below him did he see the man, lying forward over the +withers, with his arms weakly clinging to the horse's neck and his legs +swaying limply as they dangled with the feet out of the stirrups. + +Of its own accord the horse stopped. The man painfully pushed himself up +until he was able to turn his head and look from side to side. + +He was scarcely ten yards from Durham, and the clear light of the moon +revealed the face as distinctly as though it were day. The close-cropped +hair, fair almost to whiteness, the eyebrows and eyelashes of the same +hue; the general form of the face showing above the beard were +incongruously, yet elusively, familiar, while the pallor of the cheeks +and the anguish of the eyes told of the terrible injury the man had +sustained. + +He was trying to push himself up so as to sit in the saddle. Only his +arms seemed to have any strength, for the legs still dangled limply and +the fingers clutched the horse's mane convulsively as the body swayed. +The moonlight fell full upon the face, glistening on the beads of +moisture which stood out on the skin. + +A twinge of pity passed through Durham's heart as he watched the agony +of the stricken wretch. The effort to maintain his balance was more than +the weakened muscles could stand. A deep groan broke from his lips as +his arms gave way; his head fell and he plunged forward, slipping over +the horse's shoulder and coming head first to the ground, where he lay +in a limp, dishevelled heap. + +Freed from its burden, the animal stepped forward and moved to a tree +where it had evidently been accustomed to find its feed, for it snorted +impatiently and shook itself as it sniffed round the trunk. But Durham +had no eyes for it; he was watching, with fascinated intentness, the +figure lying motionless on the ground. + +Slipping from behind the sheltering shrubs, he approached the man with +noiseless steps. There was no sign of life in the figure which lay as it +had fallen, but across the lower part of the back the clothes were +stained with blood. A bullet had struck him almost on the spine, and the +dangling limbs were explained. The shot had paralysed them. + +Durham stooped over him. The faintest flicker of breathing showed he was +still alive. He lay on his face, his arms out-flung, his legs twisted. +Drawing the arms together, Durham slipped a strap round them above the +elbows so as to hold them secure. Then he partly lifted him from the +ground and dragged him to the mouth of the cave, where he sat him with +his back against the rock. + +The head drooped forward. In his waist-belt there was a revolver-pouch +which Durham, on removal, found to contain a revolver of heavy calibre +loaded in all chambers. + +Now that he was unarmed and secured, Durham knelt beside him to try and +revive him. He gently raised the head and rested it against the stone, +holding it steady with one hand while with the other he lifted off the +false beard. + +As the disguise came away and left the face fully exposed, Durham's +heart stood still. With a cry he sprang to his feet, staggering back to +stand, with clenching hands and throbbing temples, staring blankly at +the white, drawn face upturned to his. + +The humming roar was again in his ears, a trembling seized his limbs, +his brain reeled and the scene spun before his eyes. + +"Oh, my God!" he cried. + +Slowly the eyelids lifted and a spasm of pain contracted the pallid +face. The glance rested for a moment on Durham as a faint wan smile +flickered round the corners of the bloodless lips and the eyelids +drooped again. + +The sound of his own voice in a hoarse, strained whisper jarred on +Durham's ears. + +"You!" he gasped. "_You!_" + +The eyes opened once more. + +In a weak, wavering tone came disjointed words. + +"You said--you--would shoot him--like a dog--and I told you--it +would--kill--me if you--did." + +As white as his captive, Durham stood dumbfounded. + +The feeling of horror which had come upon him when first he recognised +the face overwhelmed him. His heart went dead and his brain numbed. All +the roseate dreams of his romance turned to dull grey leaden grief to +flaunt and mock him. + +Like the panoramic vision said to come to the minds of the drowning, the +incidents on which his love had dwelt in cherishing delight passed +before him. He saw again the sparkling eyes which had filled him with +such gladness when first that love had come to him; saw the picture made +by the wonderfully graceful form leaning against the verandah at Waroona +Downs, bathed in the soft, romantic light of the new-born moon; saw the +pleading face turned to him as the gentle voice spoke endearing words to +gain a passing favour; saw once more that fleeting, taunting vision on +which he had built so much despite the warning to beware of the vagaries +of a delirium-swayed brain. + +The visions passed. Before him, crippled and ghastly in the last agony +of life, lay the author of this diabolical outrage upon every +sensibility of his manhood. + +A rage of blind, ungovernable fury swept over him. The primitive +instinct of revenge, the savage longing to wreak, while there was yet +time, a last fierce vengeance on the one who had betrayed him, filled +his being. With a cry which ended in a curse he sprang to where his +carbine lay, seized it by the barrel, and swung it round his head as he +turned back upon his prisoner. + +A gasping sigh came from the prostrate form, and the head rolled lolling +to one side. + +The carbine fell from Durham's hands and he stood motionless, looking +down at the figure from which all signs of life had gone. + +As quickly as it had come the paroxysm of rage left him. + +The man was dying, if not dead, and the hideous riddle of the mystery +still unsolved! + +He must not die! He must not pass beyond the reach of human knowledge +with the truth of that tragic drama in which he had played the leading +part unrevealed. + +Durham rushed to the pool, filled his cap with water and came back with +it. Lifting up the drooping head, he moistened the nerveless lips and +bathed the cold temples and pallid cheeks. + +"In the--cave--rum." + +The whisper was just loud enough for him to hear. Leaning the head once +more against the stone, Durham staggered to the cave. A dark heap lay on +the ground in the shadow. He struck a match. + +Numbed as his brain was by the revelation that had come to him, he +shrank back at what he saw. + +A pile of woman's clothes; the skirt and jacket which had been impressed +upon his memory only a few hours before under circumstances which form, +perhaps, the one occasion when a man heeds and remembers what a woman +wears; the jaunty hat which had exerted so great a spell upon the +masculine population of the district, and beside it, the most horrible +of all, a wig of luxuriant coal-black hair from which the subtle perfume +that had so often charmed him still floated. + +With hands which shook so that he could scarcely hold it, he took the +bottle of rum, bearing Soden's label, from the ground beside the +clothes, and hastened to the mouth of the cave. + +In the cold moonlight the figure lay to all appearances dead. + +Durham tore open the front of the shirt and pushed in his hand to feel +if the heart still beat. + +With the moaning cry of a heart-broken man he reeled back. Then, in a +wild fervour born of his soul's despair, he fell on his knees beside the +prostrate form and tenderly drew the lolling head to his breast and +moistened the blue lips with the spirit. + +"Oh, speak! Speak to me! Nora, speak to me and tell me," he wailed. + +He reached to take her hands and remembered how he had bound the arms. +Quickly he set them free and chafed the limp fingers. + +"Rum--quick--drink," came in a wavering whisper, and he poured some of +the potent spirit between the lips. + +Holding her in his arms, with her head resting on his shoulder, he +waited, listening to her faint breathing. + +"A little more and--I----" + +She was able to raise her hand to steady the bottle which he held. Then +her head fell over again and she lay inert. + +He turned his face to watch her. In a momentary fit of remorse and grief +he pressed his lips to hers. + +One of her arms stole round his neck and held him to her. + +"Oh, my darling, my darling, how I have loved you," he heard her +whisper. "Why did you come to me so late?" + +Like a chill of death the words went through his brain. + +"Tell me--everything," he whispered. + +"Yes--before I die--if I can." + +"Who are you?" he said. "What is your real name?" + +"Nora O'Guire. I am Kitty Lambton's youngest daughter. I told you her +story." + +"And Patsy?" + +"He was my father." + +"Was?" + +"Yes. He is at the house--dead--Dudgeon--shot him." + +"Who was it robbed the bank?" + +"Dad and I." + +"And Eustace?" + +"No. He was innocent." + +A shudder of horror passed over him. The woman whom he had loved with +such an abandon, this woman whom he held even then in his arms--he +shrank away from her, letting her fall against the stone as the grim, +sordid horror of the tragedy she was revealing grew plain before him. + +"Ah, don't leave me--don't--don't," she moaned. "Let me die in your +arms--let me--oh, I love you, love you beyond all else. I will tell you +everything--everything--only still hold me." + +"How did Eustace die?" His voice rang hard and pitiless. + +"Oh! Give me this one last joy on earth. I am not all bad. Don't deny me +now. Hold me in your arms, beloved. I had no faith in man or God till I +met you, and you were good to me--in the coach--have you forgotten? +Don't desert me--now." + +Like a jagged claw rending harp-strings the phrases jarred and jangled +every chord within his being. + +"Oh, why--why----?" he cried. "Why did you come to this?" + +"Hold me and I will tell you." + +He knelt by her side, taking her head again upon his shoulder while she +clutched at his hand. + +"My strength is going--more rum--quick." + +He held the bottle to her mouth in silence, loving, loathing, pitying, +and condemning. + +"Now. Don't stop me. Don't interrupt--only listen." + +She lay still for a few minutes, gathering the last of her energy. +Presently she began. + +"Dad, O'Guire that is, was driven to stealing. Mother too. All the other +little ones died but me. Dad trained me. Write to the police in London +and ask about Nora O'Guire--there are lots of other names, but they know +me under all as Nora O'Guire. Then mother died. She made me swear not to +rest till we had revenged her on Dudgeon. We came out, Dad and I, came +out to find him. I bluffed the bank." + +"But the deeds you had with you--were they forgeries?" + +"No. I stole them. From a solicitor's office in Dublin--he probably does +not know they are missing. Write to him." + +"Where are they now?" + +"In the cellar under the house--in a stone jar. His name is on them. The +bank-notes are there too. The gold is in a----" + +"I have found that." + +She raised her head. + +"You found it? When?" + +"Early to-day. Before I met you." + +The head fell back. "I am glad," she said. "You are the first man to +beat me--but I love you." + +"Tell me how you managed to deceive everyone as you did." + +"I acted. Once, for a time, when things got too hot for us, I went on +the stage. It threw the 'tecks off the scent. I wanted to stay at it, +for I liked it, but mother was mad to ruin Dudgeon, and Dad could not +keep straight. So we began again. I wore a wig and made up. You'll find +it in the cave." + +"I have seen it." + +"Oh, if I could only have married you," she gasped. "If I had only met +you earlier!" + +"But about Eustace," he said quietly. + +"Yes, I'll tell you. I went to the bank--like this--and saw Eustace. I +slipped into the kitchen and drugged the tea. I knew they all took it. +Then Dad and I broke in. It was quite easy. I climbed up the verandah, +opened the back door, and let Dad in. They were all dead asleep. We took +the keys and cleared the safe. Every place was locked up again and left +just as we found it. Dad went out, and when I had locked the back door +I went over the verandah again." + +"How did you get the gold away?" + +"The buggy was in the bush. We whitewashed the horses as a blind. We +knew they hated the colour up here. It puzzled everyone." + +"But when did you discover this place?" + +"Dad knew it in the old days. He and mother used to meet here in +secret--there is a way across to the ford--the water gets shallow in one +place--it was there Dad shot----" + +Her voice caught and she turned appealing eyes to him as she struggled +for breath. + +"Give me--rum," she muttered, and he rested her head on his arm, while +he slowly poured some of the spirit between her lips. For a time she lay +so still he thought she had gone, till there came a wavering sigh and +she moved her head slightly. + +"It was--nearly--over----" she whispered. + +"About Eustace?" he said. "Can you tell me now?" + +"Yes--I'll try," she answered. "Don't leave me--stay with me till the +end, won't you? Give me--your word." + +"I will stay," he replied. + +The head resting on his arm turned until the eyes looked straight into +his. They were filled with the gentle light he had seen in them when, +through the momentary lifting of the veil of unconsciousness, he had +been enabled to catch a glimpse of her real nature. + +"Then I'll tell you--everything," she whispered. "We had to fix +suspicion on someone. When I saw him he had no nerve. I offered to +shelter him. He agreed, and I let him out of the window, and pretended +to go on talking to him all the time he was getting away into the bush. +You know what happened then." + +"At the bank? Yes. But what became of Eustace?" + +"He was at the house. He was there the night you came. He nearly gave +himself up. He was coming when he heard you say who you were. So Dad +knocked him on the head and put him in the cellar." + +"While I was there?" Durham exclaimed. + +"Yes. When you went to see to your horse. Then later we had to trick +you. Dad put something in the tea like I did at the bank, only it would +have killed you all he put in. He wanted to. He wanted to after, and +tried to, but I--I wouldn't let him--because I loved you. But I made you +sleep that night--Dad had to make fresh tea, and I put the stuff in. We +watched you go off on the verandah while you were smoking, and then tied +you up. It was hard to make you wake, but we had to--Dad had taken +Eustace's handkerchief--we knew you would be convinced if you found +it--after seeing me--and we--we shot your horse, and made the others +bolt." + +"But afterwards? What happened to Eustace afterwards?" he asked as she +stopped. + +"We had to keep him there, then, because he knew. He was there in the +cellar the night you came from Taloona. You heard him cry out. So Dad +brought him here and tied him up. He was here all the time you were at +the house. The evening after you saw Brennan, when you talked to me on +the verandah, Dad came and found him escaping. Dad killed him. He had +to. He shammed drunk next day, so that you should not suspect him. There +is a short cut from the house, and Dad took it after you left, and got +to the ford before you. That's all." + +"When Taloona was stuck up----" + +"Dad and I," she said. "We didn't know you were there. You hit me, and +I--oh, darling, it broke my heart when I saw you fall, but I had to. +That is why I took you away to nurse you. I kissed you when you didn't +know." + +"The other night--when you rode through the town?" + +She lay silent and he repeated the question. + +"I was--half drunk. So was Dad. We did it out of devilment. They were +all such fools--all but you--and you nearly shot me. The bullet grazed +my horse. You will see the cut on the shoulder. You nearly caught Dad. +He was in the police-station when you got back. He cracked every crib in +the place--I wasn't in that." + +"Where did he hide?" Durham asked. + +"In the yard--where Eustace was--you never looked there." + +A convulsive shudder ran through her. + +"But to-night--where were you going to-night when I met you?" he asked. + +"To kill Dudgeon. Dad only just got home. I could die happy if I only +had." + +Again her frame quivered, and she was racked with a fierce struggle to +get her breath. She lay against him, her head resting in the hollow of +his arm, her eyes closed, and her mouth twitching. + +"Tell him," she whispered between her panting gasps. "Tell +him--I--tried----" + +He touched her hands lying limply in her lap; they were icy cold. Her +head was growing heavy on his arm and her lips were turning blue. He +moistened them once more with rum as her breathing became almost +imperceptible. + +For a moment her eyes opened and looked into his with an expression of +wonderful tenderness. + +"Dudgeon is already dead," he whispered gently. + +She started and tried to sit up, but could only raise her head. + +"Dead," she whispered. "Dead!" + +Then, as though the news galvanised her waning strength into one last +tumultuous effort, she flung out her arms and sat up, with wide-open +eyes staring fixedly into space. + +"Dad! Dad!" she cried. "You did--you did, Dad. Oh, thank----" + +Her arms fell, her head lolled forward, and her body lurched against +Durham as, with a broken, gasping sigh, she collapsed into a nerveless, +jointless thing. + +He bent his head and placed his ear to her breast above her heart. There +was not the faintest throb, and he took his arm from around her. As he +did so she rolled over, her face upturned towards the moon, at which her +wide-open eyes stared and her mouth gaped. + +The Rider of Waroona was dead! + +With bowed head and aching heart Durham bent over her. + +All the love of his nature which had lain dormant for so long had gone +out to this woman, enfolding her, idealising her, until she became to +him the completement of his being, the one incentive for all which was +noble within him, the mainspring of his life, the lode-stone of his +ambitions. To have won her would have been his dearest and proudest +achievement; to have had her love would have made existence for him a +never-ending stream of happiness and joy. + +As a sun new risen from the night she had come into his life, bringing +light and warmth and peace where there had been only coldness and +unrest. So he had dreamed of her only that morning; so she had appeared +to him only a few hours since when, at her bidding, trusting her, +believing in her, loving her, he had turned his back on his +duty--betrayed. + +Resentment at the treachery warred with his love and tinged his sorrow +with bitterness. How she had played with him, tricking him, fooling him, +outwitting him--and yet loving him. + +The memory of the last fond look of lingering tenderness which had been +in her eyes ere he told her Dudgeon was dead came to him. Why had he +told her that? Why had he not let her die as she was then, with the +gentle side of her nature dominating her, filled with the one soft +impulse she perhaps had ever known? + +The words had slipped from his tongue almost before he knew, and on the +instant there had come back to her the overshadowing influence which had +warped her life for evil even before she was born. + +By his hand she had died; by his words her last moments had been filled +with the blackness of insensate hate. + +Before the mute condemnation of that self-accusing thought the +bitterness which had been in his mind against her dissipated. Whatever +ills she had done to him, he had done greater to her. Whatever ills she +had done to humanity were the outcome not of her own nature, but of the +circumstances and conditions which had governed her from the moment she +was born. All that she had said during the last evening he spent at her +house recurred to him and a new significance dawned into the words. + +She had spoken of herself, pleaded for herself, striven to rouse his +sympathy and compassion, so that, within the sombre barrenness of her +ill-starred life, one spot there might be where the loving kindness of +human charity had fallen and made it bright. He remembered how he had +answered her--coldly, sternly, crushing down her awakening soul with the +same callous indifference which had always met her. With the pitiless +weight of a loveless life, what wonder she was warped, distorted, +marred? More sinned against than sinning, he had no right nor will to +blame her--only the love she had inspired in him remained, to fill his +heart with sadness and drag it down with the hopeless desolation of vain +regrets. + +For she had gone from him even as she revealed the love she bore him, +gone into the darkness by his own act, gone--his throat grew hard until +he choked as the thought came to him--gone from a greater degradation +he, by the merciless irony of fate, would have had to fasten upon her. + +Better, a thousand times better for her, that she should be as she was +than that she should have lived to face the doom awaiting her--better +for her--and better for him. + +It was nothing to him now that the story she had told showed her, by all +the laws of humanity, to be unworthy. Black as she had painted herself, +the love she had inspired shone through the blackness, revealing only +that which lay beyond, the radiant purpose, unmeasurable by human +standards, transcending human ken. + +He knelt again by her side, taking her cold hands in his and placing +them upon her breast, closing the staring eyes, composing the +wry-drooped mouth, straightening the twisted limbs. + +"Oh, my love, my love," he wailed. "Sleep on in peace. Sleep on till I +shall come to you. Wait for me, for I must stay awhile yet to shield and +shelter you so that none may know the secret of your life." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE ASHES OF SILENCE + + +Wallace and Harding were seeing all was secure in the bank before +retiring for the night when a sharp rap sounded at the front door. + +"Hullo, what's this?" Wallace exclaimed. "Will you see who it is?" + +Harding went to the door and opened it. On the step Durham was standing. + +"Oh, it's you, Durham. Come in," he said. "We've been discussing things +or we should have been in bed an hour or more ago. What's the news?" + +Without a word Durham stepped in and walked to the room where Wallace +was waiting at the door. Directly he came into the light both Harding +and Wallace uttered exclamations of surprise. + +"Why, what has happened?" the latter cried. "My dear fellow--you look +thoroughly done up--you are as haggard as a man of sixty. You've +overdone it. Let me get you a whisky." + +Durham shook his head and sat down, resting one hand on the table at his +side, the other on his knee. His uniform was soiled and torn, his face +lined and grey, and his eyes heavy as with a great weariness. The quick +alertness he had shown when he was with them earlier in the day had +gone; he looked, as Wallace had expressed it, an old, haggard man, +listless, without vitality, lacking even the energy to talk. + +The two stood watching him in silence, the same question in each one's +mind--what could have happened to produce so great a change in a man in +so short a time? + +"Are you sure you won't let me get you something?" Wallace said +presently as Durham neither moved nor spoke. "You are quite worn out. +Won't you take----" + +Durham raised his hand as he shook his head again. + +"I only want you to send away a telegram at once to your head office," +he said in a voice so dull and hollow that it caused even a greater +shock to his companions than his appearance had done. + +"There would not be anyone to receive it at this time of night," Wallace +replied. "But it shall go the first thing in the morning." + +"If you will write it now, I will leave it at the post office," Durham +said in the same lifeless tone. + +Wallace rose, forcing a smile. + +"It is already written, Durham," he said pleasantly. "It states you have +succeeded in recovering the stolen gold, and asks for authority to pay +you the reward at once and in public." + +"You must not send that." + +The forced smile faded as Wallace stood staring; the expression both in +Durham's voice and on his face was so hopelessly despondent, that into +Wallace's mind there came a fear lest the recovered gold had again +disappeared. + +"Not send that?" he asked wonderingly. "Why? You said----" + +"I know. But you must not send it--now. Write another." + +"The gold is lost?" Wallace exclaimed. + +"No. The gold is safe; it is on its way here now--Brennan is bringing +it. What you must report at once is that Eustace was innocent." + +"Eustace innocent?" + +Wallace and Harding uttered the exclamation simultaneously. + +"Innocent. Absolutely innocent. Tell Mrs. Eustace too. It may bring her +a grain of comfort in her distress." + +Without raising his head or lifting his eyes, Durham spoke in the voice +of a man upon whom the weight of desolation has fallen. To his hearers +it suggested failure, defeat, and the consequent loss of professional +prestige. To Wallace, whose concern was mostly for the recovery of the +Bank's money, the suggestion did not convey so much as it did to +Harding. He knew more of Durham's views, had heard him express time and +again his absolute conviction as to the guilt of Eustace. The case, as +Durham had put it, was so entirely clear against the late manager that +to hear him now declared innocent, and by the man who had accumulated +evidence against him, reduced Harding's mind to a blank. + +"What are you saying, Durham?" he heard Wallace exclaim with impatience. +"What do you mean? Eustace innocent? Why--great Heavens, man, if he were +innocent----" + +"He was absolutely innocent, Mr. Wallace. As innocent as Mr. Harding." + +"But----" Harding passed his hand across his forehead. + +"It is true," Durham said in a subdued tone. "I was entirely misled, +entirely." + +"But--then--well, how was the bank robbed?" Harding cried. + +"I know how it was robbed; by whom it was robbed; everything," Durham +replied. + +"Who was it?" Wallace asked. + +Durham remained silent, his eyes fixed on the floor. + +"The Rider?" Harding said. + +"That name will do. The Rider and another. They are both dead. I saw one +die--from a bullet in the back. I fired it. I have seen the other dead +from a bullet Mr. Dudgeon fired. The missing notes I have recovered. I +have them here." + +He put his hand inside his tunic and drew out a closely tied bundle +which he laid on the table. + +"Will you check them and see if the total is correct?" + +"Now?" Wallace asked. + +"If you please." + +"But will not to-morrow morning do? It is enough to have as many as +these back without going through them so late at night." + +"I shall not be here to-morrow." + +"You are surely not going away--not until----" + +"I shall not be here to-morrow," Durham repeated. + +The tone in which he spoke stopped further discussion. + +"We can check them in here--I will fetch the register," Harding said, as +he rose and went to the office, returning in a few moments with the +book. + +While he and Wallace checked the notes with the list of those stolen, +Durham sat at the end of the table in the same position he had first +assumed. + +"They are all here," Wallace said in a subdued voice, when the checking +was complete. The presence of this grey-faced, silent, sad-eyed man was +getting on his nerves. + +"The gold and the things stolen from the bank will be here in a few +minutes; Brennan is bringing them." + +"And the deeds--Mrs. Burke's deeds? Have you no trace of them?" + +"They are returned to the owner." + +"But they ought to be here. The Bank advanced money on them." + +"I am sorry. I cannot help it now. You will have to hold the deeds of +Waroona Downs instead." + +"We have those," Harding said quietly. + +"Oh, well then, it does not matter so much, though it is still very +irregular, you know," Wallace replied. + +Durham stood up and turned to Harding. "You will tell Mrs. Eustace? Tell +her I am more than sorry for her in her trouble, but she can console +herself that she was right. Her husband was innocent. Good-bye." + +With bent head and slow steps he passed from the room and from the bank, +closing the door after him. + +"But what does it mean? What does it all mean?" Wallace cried as the +front door slammed. + +"We may know to-morrow," Harding replied. "There must be something +horribly tragic to have affected Durham so much. Better leave it as it +stands, I think. He would have spoken had there been anything more he +could have said." + +"Did he mean the gold was coming here to-night?" + +"I gathered so. Shall I walk up to the station and ask Brennan?" + +But before he could do so Brennan arrived at the bank. + +"Where will you have it put?" he asked. "I've got it out at the back by +the fence." + +"We'll both give you a hand with it," Wallace replied. + +They went out at the back door. A light cart was standing beyond the +fence, with something in it covered by a tarpaulin. Brennan pulled the +cover away and revealed the pile of bags. + +"There is hardly anything missing," Wallace exclaimed when everything +had been carried into the bank and the amount checked. "It is one of the +smartest things I have ever encountered. The way your sub-inspector has +traced and recovered this is nothing short of marvellous." + +"He told me to say, sir, that it seemed to him only a right thing for +you to do to let Mr. Eustace be brought here so that the funeral could +be from the bank." + +"Well, of course we must consult Mrs. Eustace about that," Wallace +answered. "I'll see Mr. Durham in the morning----" + +"Sorry to say you won't, sir," Brennan interrupted. "He's on his way now +to the junction. He told me that what he had discovered he would have to +report personally to the chief. Just what it is I haven't the faintest +idea, but it's something pretty hot, if you ask me. I've never seen the +sub-inspector curled up over anything like he is over this." + +"He told us he had shot the Rider," Harding said. + +"Oh, yes, sir, he told me that too. What I'm inclined to think is that +he discovered him to be a member of some big family in the south, and +is anxious for their sake to keep the name secret. It's just the sort of +thing some young blood might do if he were in an awkward hole--a chance +of lifting a big sum such as this is a pretty strong temptation to +anyone in a hole." + +"That may be it. One never knows. He may even have been a friend of +Durham's," Wallace said musingly. "Certainly something has upset him +very much. You don't know what became of the papers he found, do you? +The papers Mrs. Burke left with the Bank?" he added. + +"I know nothing about them, sir; but he told me to ride out to Waroona +Downs the first thing in the morning and tell Mrs. Burke to come in and +see you. Perhaps she may know something about them." + +"Ah, very likely," Wallace said. "He told us he had returned them to the +owner. I expect that is it, Harding. He has sent or given them to her. +She will be able to put the matter straight, however, when she comes +in." + +"I should have liked to let Mrs. Eustace know to-night, but it is too +late now," Harding remarked. "It's long after midnight." + +"Go over directly after breakfast in the morning. I'll see to the office +until you return. It will be necessary to wire to the general manager +about Durham's suggestion, but we must have her opinion first." + +"I suppose she has heard about Mr. Dudgeon," Harding said. "It's a bad +business all through." + +"There is his will, Harding; don't forget that. Not many people would be +inclined to call that a bad business if they were in Mrs. Eustace's +place." + +It was the one grain of comfort Harding felt he was carrying with him +when, on the following morning, he walked through the town to Smart's +cottage. + +Already the news of the Rider's end was common property. When Mrs. +Eustace came to him in the little sitting-room, it was of that she +spoke. + +"Oh, who was he, Fred? Bessie heard that Mr. Durham had refused to tell +anyone but you. Is that so? Surely I may know. Surely I am entitled to +so small a satisfaction as that?" + +"I do not know who he was," Harding replied. "Durham came to us late +last night, too late for me to come and tell you, but he mentioned no +name. He said something I would have liked to have been able to repeat +to you at once, but it was too late. So I have come as early as this. +Durham asked me specially to come. He said--he hoped you----" + +She drew herself up as he paused, clasped her hands, and pressed them to +her breast. + +"What is it, Fred? You have some--something terrible--to say," she said +in a whisper. + +"Not terrible, Jess, but it is sad. Durham said he hoped you would find +some consolation in it. So do I. So do we all. The Rider, whoever he may +have been, confessed. He said Eustace was innocent." + +She remained quite still, without a sound, staring at him. + +"The bank was robbed by the Rider and another, Durham said, but Eustace +was not one of the two. He was absolutely innocent. We have wired to the +general manager to say so." + +"Fred, I don't believe it. I can't believe it. Why did he run away if he +were innocent? I will never rest until I know who the man Mr. Durham +shot really was. Where is Mr. Durham?" + +"He has left Waroona, Jess. He told Brennan he could only report +personally to his chief the truth about the man. Brennan thinks he was +someone connected with one of the big families, and that is why the name +is not made known." + +"But I insist on knowing. Was he shot? Is it true, or is it some hideous +blind? I will know, Fred, I will know!" + +"Durham was too much cut up when he came to us last night, Jess, for it +to be a blind. A tragedy it may be, but not a blind." + +"But who was the man? Whoever he was he killed Charlie, killed him, +Fred. They have no right to hide his name. Besides--how do we know he +was shot? Durham said so, but where is the body?" + +He shook his head. + +"Jess," he said, "it is sad enough. What the mystery is I cannot say, +but if it has cleared Charlie's name----" + +She sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands. + +"Oh, that will not bring him back!" she sobbed. "What will that do now?" + +He bent over her, with his hand on her shoulder. + +"I know," he said, "I know how bitter it is, how hard." + +"I said they would find him innocent when--when he had gone," she +exclaimed. + +"The Bank wants to make what amends it can," he said softly. "Will you +let----" + +"Oh, don't ask me," she moaned. "I know what you would say. Do as you +think best." + +"Then I will arrange it?" + +She bent her head in answer. + +"I should have gone away," she said as she rose and walked across the +room. "You were right. I should never have stayed, never, never!" + +"Don't think me cruel, Jess," he said; "but there is something more I +must tell you. Have you heard about Mr. Dudgeon?" + +She nodded. + +"Oh, yes," she answered. "Poor old man. He was here yesterday. He----" + +"He came to the bank," he said, as she was silent. "He left something in +my charge, Jess, and made me promise you should have it at once if +anything happened to him. It was his will. He has left everything to +you." + +She turned quickly. + +"Fred--Fred----" she gasped as she held out her hands and groped in the +air. + +He caught her as she swayed. + +For a time she lay in his arms, finding a woman's relief in a flood of +tears. Not until she grew calm did he speak. + +"You must go away to-morrow," he said softly. "Go away and rest where +you will not be harassed by all the memories which cling around this +place. Promise me you will." + +She raised her head and looked him in the face through her tears. + +"Fred, you know why I cannot leave. Even now, with all this tragedy over +me, with him--lying over there--he whom I suspected and blamed--don't +think ill of me; but my heart would have been broken but for you." + +He drew her to him again, held her close to him, kissed her upturned +lips. + +"I will leave too," he whispered. "I will come after. Will you promise +now?" + +"Yes," she answered simply. + +When he returned to the bank, Brennan rode up at a gallop. + +"Oh, a terrible thing has happened!" he cried as he came into the +office. "Waroona Downs has been burned to the ground in the night and +both Mrs. Burke and old Patsy burned to death in their beds. I warned +her that one of these days that drunken old man would do some damage, +but she wouldn't listen to me. Now there's the place in ruins and ashes. +It must have burned out hours ago, for there's not a spark left, only +the remains of the two lying charred to cinders." + +Coming on top of the other news circulating amongst the townsfolk, the +destruction of Waroona Downs, with its two inmates, exhausted the local +capacity for wonder. + +The whole township followed Eustace from the bank, forgetting their +earlier condemnation of him now that his innocence had been declared, +and being only anxious to testify their sympathy with the woman who had +suffered so much in their midst. They would have turned out _en masse_ +and escorted her some miles on her way to the junction when she set out +from Waroona for the south, but word was passed round that she wanted to +go away in silence, unobserved. + +Three months later Harding followed her. There was no staying the +township then. He was the last of the active participants in the tragic +mystery to leave the place, and it was an open secret he was going to +join the one for whom they all felt deeply. So they made up in his +send-off for the restraint they had exercised upon themselves when she +bade the town a silent farewell. + +The memory of that festivity still lives in the local annals, and ever, +as a stranger asks for the story of the Rider, the send-off of the +banker is the conclusion of the tale. In vain the stranger may ask for +particulars as to who the Rider was. + +The charred ashes of Waroona Downs had no tongue wherewith to tell what +happened the night fire came to wipe the homestead from the earth. + + + WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD + PRINTERS PLYMOUTH + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rider of Waroona, by Firth Scott + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIDER OF WAROONA *** + +***** This file should be named 27061.txt or 27061.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/0/6/27061/ + +Produced by Nick Wall and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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