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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Madame Midas, by Fergus Hume
+
+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: Madame Midas
+
+Author: Fergus Hume
+
+
+Release Date: January, 2004 [EBook #4946]
+This file was first posted on April 3, 2002
+Last Updated: November 8, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADAME MIDAS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MADAME MIDAS
+
+Fergus Hume
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+
+
+CAST UP BY THE SEA
+
+
+A wild bleak-looking coast, with huge water-worn promontories jutting
+out into the sea, daring the tempestuous fury of the waves, which dashed
+furiously in sheets of seething foam against the iron rocks. Two of
+these headlands ran out for a considerable distance, and at the base of
+each, ragged cruel-looking rocks stretched still further out into the
+ocean until they entirely disappeared beneath the heaving waste of
+waters, and only the sudden line of white foam every now and then
+streaking the dark green waves betrayed their treacherous presence to
+the idle eye. Between these two headlands there was about half a mile of
+yellow sandy beach on which the waves rolled with a dull roar, fringing
+the wet sands with many coloured wreaths of sea-weed and delicate
+shells. At the back the cliffs rose in a kind of semi-circle, black and
+precipitous, to the height of about a hundred feet, and flocks of white
+seagulls who had their nests therein were constantly circling round, or
+flying seaward with steadily expanded wings and discordant cries. At the
+top of these inhospitable-looking cliffs a line of pale green betrayed
+the presence of vegetation, and from thence it spread inland into
+vast-rolling pastures ending far away at the outskirts of the bush,
+above which could be seen giant mountains with snow-covered ranges. Over
+all this strange contrast of savage arid coast and peaceful upland there
+was a glaring red sky--not the delicate evanescent pink of an ordinary
+sunset--but a fierce angry crimson which turned the wet sands and dark
+expanse of ocean into the colour of blood. Far away westward, where
+the sun--a molten ball of fire--was sinking behind the snow-clad peaks,
+frowned long lines of gloomy clouds--like prison bars through which the
+sinking orb glowed fiercely. Rising from the east to the zenith of the
+sky was a huge black cloud bearing a curious resemblance to a gigantic
+hand, the long lean fingers of which were stretched threateningly out
+as if to grasp the land and drag it back into the lurid sea of blood;
+altogether a cruel, weird-looking scene, fantastic, unreal, and bizarre
+as one of Dore’s marvellous conceptions. Suddenly on the red waters
+there appeared a black speck, rising and falling with the restless
+waves, and ever drawing nearer and nearer to the gloomy cliffs and sandy
+beach. When within a quarter of a mile of the shore, the speck resolved
+itself into a boat, a mere shallop, painted a dingy white, and much
+battered by the waves as it tossed lightly on the crimson waters. It had
+one mast and a small sail all torn and patched, which by some miracle
+held together, and swelling out to the wind drew the boat nearer to the
+land. In this frail craft were two men, one of whom was kneeling in the
+prow of the boat shading his eyes from the sunlight with his hands and
+gazing eagerly at the cliffs, while the other sat in the centre with
+bowed head, in an attitude of sullen resignation, holding the straining
+sail by a stout rope twisted round his arm. Neither of them spoke a word
+till within a short distance of the beach, when the man at the
+look-out arose, tall and gaunt, and stretched out his hands to the
+inhospitable-looking coast with a harsh, exulting laugh.
+
+‘At last,’ he cried, in a hoarse, strained voice, and in a foreign
+tongue; ‘freedom at last.’
+
+The other man made no comment on this outburst of his companion, but
+kept his eyes steadfastly on the bottom of the boat, where lay a small
+barrel and a bag of mouldy biscuits, the remnants of their provisions on
+the voyage.
+
+The man who had spoken evidently did not expect an answer from his
+companion, for he did not even turn his head to look at him, but stood
+with folded arms gazing eagerly ahead, until, with a sudden rush, the
+boat drove up high and dry on the shore, sending him head-over-heels
+into the wet sand. He struggled to his feet quickly, and, running up the
+beach a little way, turned to see how his companion had fared. The
+other had fallen into the sea, but had picked himself up, and was busily
+engaged in wringing the water from his coarse clothing. There was a
+smooth water-worn boulder on the beach, and, seeing this, the man who
+had spoken went up to it and sat down thereon, while his companion,
+evidently of a more practical turn of mind, collected the stale biscuits
+which had fallen out of the bag, then, taking the barrel carefully on
+his shoulder, walked up to where the other was sitting, and threw both
+biscuits and barrel at his feet.
+
+He then flung himself wearily on the sand, and picking up a biscuit
+began to munch it steadily. The other drew a tin pannikin from the bosom
+of his shirt, and nodded his head towards the barrel, upon which the
+eater laid down his biscuit, and, taking up the barrel, drew the bung,
+and let a few drops of water trickle into the tin dish. The man on the
+boulder drank every drop, then threw the pannikin down on the sand,
+while his companion, who had exhausted the contents of the barrel,
+looked wolfishly at him. The other, however, did not take the slightest
+notice of his friend’s lowering looks, but began to eat a biscuit and
+look around him. There was a strong contrast between these two waifs of
+the sea which the ocean had just thrown up on the desolate coast. The
+man on the boulder was a tall, slightly-built young fellow, apparently
+about thirty years of age, with leonine masses of reddish-coloured
+hair, and a short, stubbly beard of the same tint. His face, pale and
+attenuated by famine, looked sharp and clever; and his eyes, forming
+a strong contrast to his hair, were quite black, with thin,
+delicately-drawn eyebrows above them. They scintillated with a peculiar
+light which, though not offensive, yet gave anyone looking at him an
+uncomfortable feeling of insecurity. The young man’s hands, though
+hardened and discoloured, were yet finely formed, while even the coarse,
+heavy boots he wore could not disguise the delicacy of his feet. He was
+dressed in a rough blue suit of clothes, all torn and much stained by
+sea water, and his head was covered with a red cap of wool-work which
+rested lightly on his tangled masses of hair. After a time he tossed
+aside the biscuit he was eating, and looked down at his companion with
+a cynical smile. The man at his feet was a rough, heavy-looking fellow,
+squarely and massively built, with black hair and a heavy beard of the
+same sombre hue. His hands were long and sinewy; his feet--which were
+bare--large and ungainly: and his whole appearance was that of a man in
+a low station of life. No one could have told the colour of his eyes,
+for he looked obstinately at the ground; and the expression of his
+face was so sullen and forbidding that altogether he appeared to be an
+exceedingly unpleasant individual. His companion eyed him for a short
+time in a cool, calculating manner, and then rose painfully to his feet.
+
+‘So,’ he said rapidly in French, waving his hand towards the frowning
+cliffs, ‘so, my Pierre, we are in the land of promise; though I must
+confess’--with a disparaging shrug of the shoulders--‘it certainly
+does not look very promising: still, we are on dry land, and that is
+something after tossing about so long in that stupid boat, with only a
+plank between us and death. Bah!’--with another expressive shrug--‘why
+should I call it stupid? It has carried us all the way from New
+Caledonia, that hell upon earth, and landed us safely in what may turn
+out Paradise. We must not be ungrateful to the bridge that carried us
+over--eh, my friend?’
+
+The man addressed as Pierre nodded an assent, then pointed towards the
+boat; the other looked up and saw that the tide had risen, and that the
+boat was drifting slowly away from the land.
+
+‘It goes,’ he said coolly, ‘back again to its proper owner, I suppose.
+Well, let it. We have no further need of it, for, like Caesar, we have
+now crossed the Rubicon. We are no longer convicts from a French
+prison, my friend, but shipwrecked sailors; you hear?’--with a sudden
+scintillation from his black eyes--‘shipwrecked sailors; and I will tell
+the story of the wreck. Luckily, I can depend on your discretion, as you
+have not even a tongue to contradict, which you wouldn’t do if you had.’
+
+The dumb man rose slowly to his feet, and pointed to the cliffs frowning
+above them. The other answered his thought with a careless shrug of the
+shoulders.
+
+‘We must climb,’ he said lightly, ‘and let us hope the top will prove
+less inhospitable than this place. Where we are I don’t know, except
+that this is Australia; there is gold here, my friend, and we must get
+our share of it. We will match our Gallic wit against these English
+fools, and see who comes off best. You have strength, I have brains;
+so we will do great things; but’--laying his hand impressively on the
+other’s breast--‘no quarter, no yielding, you see!’
+
+The dumb man nodded violently, and rubbed his ungainly hands together in
+delight.
+
+‘You don’t know Balzac, my friend,’ went on the young man in a
+conversational tone, ‘or I would tell you that, like Rastignac, war
+is declared between ourselves and society; but if you have not the
+knowledge you have the will, and that is enough for me. Come, let us
+make the first step towards our wealth;’ and without casting a glance
+behind him, he turned and walked towards the nearest headland, followed
+by the dumb man with bent head and slouching gait.
+
+The rain and wind had been at work on this promontory, and their
+combined action had broken off great masses of rock, which lay in rugged
+confusion at the base. This offered painful but secure foothold, and
+the two adventurers, with much labour--for they were weak with the
+privations endured on the voyage from New Caledonia--managed to climb
+half way up the cliff, when they stopped to take breath and look around
+them. They were now in a perilous position, for, hanging as they were
+on a narrow ledge of rock midway between earth and sky, the least slip
+would have cost them their lives. The great mass of rock which frowned
+above them was nearly perpendicular, yet offered here and there certain
+facilities for climbing, though to do so looked like certain death. The
+men, however, were quite reckless, and knew if they could get to the
+top they would be safe, so they determined to attempt the rest of the
+ascent.
+
+‘As we have not the wings of eagles, friend Pierre,’ said the younger
+man, glancing around, ‘we must climb where we can find foothold. God
+will protect us; if not,’ with a sneer, ‘the Devil always looks after
+his own.’
+
+He crept along the narrow ledge and scrambled with great difficulty into
+a niche above, holding on by the weeds and sparse grass which grew out
+of the crannies of the barren crag. Followed by his companion, he went
+steadily up, clinging to projecting rocks--long trails of tough grass
+and anything else he could hold on to. Every now and then some seabird
+would dash out into their faces with wild cries, and nearly cause them
+to lose their foothold in the sudden start. Then the herbage began to
+get more luxurious, and the cliff to slope in an easy incline, which
+made the latter part of their ascent much easier. At last, after half an
+hour’s hard work, they managed to get to the top, and threw themselves
+breathlessly on the short dry grass which fringed the rough cliff. Lying
+there half fainting with fatigue and hunger, they could hear, as in
+a confused dream, the drowsy thunder of the waves below, and the
+discordant cries of the sea-gulls circling round their nests, to which
+they had not yet returned. The rest did them good, and in a short time
+they were able to rise to their feet and survey the situation. In front
+was the sea, and at the back the grassy undulating country, dotted here
+and there with clumps of trees now becoming faint and indistinct in the
+rapidly falling shadows of the night. They could also see horses and
+cattle moving in the distant fields, which showed that there must be
+some human habitation near, and suddenly from a far distant house which
+they had not observed shone a bright light, which became to these weary
+waifs of the ocean a star of hope.
+
+They looked at one another in silence, and then the young man turned
+towards the ocean again.
+
+‘Behind,’ he said, pointing to the east, ‘lies a French prison and two
+ruined lives--yours and mine--but in front,’ swinging round to the rich
+fields, ‘there is fortune, food, and freedom. Come, my friend, let us
+follow that light, which is our star of hope, and who knows what glory
+may await us. The old life is dead, and we start our lives in this
+new world with all the bitter experiences of the old to teach us
+wisdom--come!’ And without another word he walked slowly down the slope
+towards the inland, followed by the dumb man with his head still bent
+and his air of sullen resignation.
+
+The sun disappeared behind the snowy ranges--night drew a grey veil over
+the sky as the red light died out, and here and there the stars
+were shining. The seabirds sought their nests again and ceased their
+discordant cries--the boat which had brought the adventurers to shore
+drifted slowly out to sea, while the great black hand that rose from
+the eastward stretched out threateningly towards the two men tramping
+steadily onward through the dewy grass, as though it would have drawn
+them back again to the prison from whence they had so miraculously
+escaped.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE PACTOLUS CLAIM
+
+
+In the early days of Australia, when the gold fever was at its height,
+and the marvellous Melbourne of to-day was more like an enlarged camp
+than anything else, there was a man called Robert Curtis, who arrived
+in the new land of Ophir with many others to seek his fortune. Mr Curtis
+was of good family, but having been expelled from Oxford for holding
+certain unorthodox opinions quite at variance with the accepted
+theological tenets of the University, he had added to his crime by
+marrying a pretty girl, whose face was her fortune, and who was born,
+as the story books say, of poor but honest parents. Poverty and honesty,
+however, were not sufficient recommendations in the eyes of Mr Curtis,
+senior, to excuse such a match; so he promptly followed the precedent
+set by Oxford, and expelled his son from the family circle. That young
+gentleman and his wife came out to Australia filled with ambitious
+dreams of acquiring a fortune, and then of returning to heap coals of
+fire on the heads of those who had turned them out.
+
+These dreams, however, were destined never to be realised, for within a
+year after their arrival in Melbourne Mrs Curtis died giving birth to
+a little girl, and Robert Curtis found himself once more alone in the
+world with the encumbrance of a small child. He, however, was not a man
+who wore his heart on his sleeve, and did not show much outward grief,
+though, no doubt, he sorrowed deeply enough for the loss of the pretty
+girl for whom he had sacrificed so much. At all events, he made up his
+mind at once what to do: so, placing his child under the care of an old
+lady, he went to Ballarat, and set to work to make his fortune.
+
+While there his luck became proverbial, and he soon found himself a rich
+man; but this did not satisfy him, for, being of a far-seeing nature, he
+saw the important part Australia would play in the world’s history. So
+with the gold won by his pick he bought land everywhere, and especially
+in Melbourne, which was even then becoming metropolitan. After fifteen
+years of a varied life he returned to Melbourne to settle down, and
+found that his daughter had grown up to be a charming young girl, the
+very image of his late wife. Curtis built a house, went in for politics,
+and soon became a famous man in his adopted country. He settled a large
+sum of money on his daughter absolutely, which no one, not even her
+future husband, could touch, and introduced her to society.
+
+Miss Curtis became the belle of Melbourne, and her charming face,
+together with the more substantial beauties of wealth, soon brought
+crowds of suitors around her. Her father, however, determined to find
+a husband for her whom he could trust, and was looking for one when he
+suddenly died of heart disease, leaving his daughter an orphan and a
+wealthy woman.
+
+After Mr Curtis had been buried by the side of his dead wife, the
+heiress went home to her richly-furnished house, and after passing a
+certain period in mourning, engaged a companion, and once more took her
+position in society.
+
+Her suitors--numerous and persistent as those of Penelope--soon returned
+to her feet, and she found she could choose a husband from men of all
+kinds--rich and poor, handsome and ugly, old and young. One of these,
+a penniless young Englishman, called Randolph Villiers, payed her such
+marked attention, that in the end Miss Curtis, contrary to the wishes of
+her friends, married him.
+
+Mr Villiers had a handsome face and figure, a varied and extensive
+wardrobe, and a bad character. He, however, suppressed his real tastes
+until he became the husband of Miss Curtis, and holder of the purse--for
+such was the love his wife bore him that she unhesitatingly gave him
+full control of all her property, excepting that which was settled on
+herself by her father, which was, of course, beyond marital control. In
+vain her friends urged some settlement should be made before marriage.
+Miss Curtis argued that to take any steps to protect her fortune would
+show a want of faith in the honesty of the man she loved, so went to the
+altar and reversed the marriage service by endowing Mr Randolph Villiers
+with all her worldly goods.
+
+The result of this blind confidence justified the warnings of her
+friends--for as soon as Villiers found himself in full possession of his
+wife’s fortune, he immediately proceeded to spend all the money he
+could lay his hands on. He gambled away large sums at his club, betted
+extensively on the turf, kept open house, and finally became entangled
+with a lady whose looks were much better than her morals, and whose
+capacity for spending money so far exceeded his own that in two years
+she completely ruined him. Mrs Villiers put up with this conduct for
+some time, as she was too proud to acknowledge she had made a mistake
+in her choice of a husband; but when Villiers, after spending all her
+wealth in riotous living, actually proceeded to ill-treat her in order
+to force her to give up the money her father had settled on her, she
+rebelled. She tore off her wedding-ring, threw it at his feet, renounced
+his name, and went off to Ballarat with her old nurse and the remnants
+of her fortune.
+
+Mr Villiers, however, was not displeased at this step; in fact, he was
+rather glad to get rid of a wife who could no longer supply him with
+money, and whose presence was a constant rebuke. He sold up the house
+and furniture, and converted all available property into cash, which
+cash he then converted into drink for himself and jewellery for his lady
+friend. The end soon came to the fresh supply of money, and his lady
+friend went off with his dearest companion, to whose purse she had taken
+a sudden liking. Villiers, deserted by all his acquaintances, sank
+lower and lower in the social scale, and the once brilliant butterfly
+of fashion became a billiard marker, then a tout at races, and finally a
+bar loafer with no visible means of support.
+
+Meantime Mrs Villiers was prospering in Ballarat, and gaining the
+respect and good opinion of everyone, while her husband was earning the
+contempt of not only his former friends but even of the creatures with
+whom he now associated. When Mrs Villiers went up to Ballarat after her
+short but brilliant life in Melbourne she felt crushed. She had given
+all the wealth of her girlish affection to her husband, and had endowed
+him with all kinds of chivalrous attributes, only to find out, as many
+a woman has done before and since, that her idol had feet of clay. The
+sudden shock of the discovery of his baseness altered the whole of
+her life, and from being a bright, trustful girl, she became a cold
+suspicious woman who disbelieved in everyone and in everything.
+
+But she was of too restless and ambitious a nature to be content with an
+idle life, and although the money she still possessed was sufficient to
+support her in comfort, yet she felt that she must do something, if
+only to keep her thoughts from dwelling on those bitter years of
+married life. The most obvious thing to do in Ballarat was to go in for
+gold-mining, and chance having thrown in her way a mate of her father’s,
+she determined to devote herself to that, being influenced in her
+decision by the old digger. This man, by name Archibald McIntosh, was
+a shrewd, hard-headed Scotchman, who had been in Ballarat when the
+diggings were in the height of their fame, and who knew all about the
+lie of the country and where the richest leads had been in the old days.
+He told Mrs Villiers that her father and himself had worked together on
+a lead then known as the Devil’s Lead, which was one of the richest
+ever discovered in the district. It had been found by five men, who had
+agreed with one another to keep silent as to the richness of the lead,
+and were rapidly making their fortunes when the troubles of the Eureka
+stockade intervened, and, in the encounter between the miners and the
+military, three of the company working the lead were killed, and only
+two men were left who knew the whereabouts of the claim and the value
+of it. These were McIntosh and Curtis, who were the original holders.
+Mr Curtis, went down to Melbourne, and, as previously related, died of
+heart disease, so the only man left of the five who had worked the lead
+was Archibald McIntosh. He had been too poor to work it himself, and,
+having failed to induce any speculator to go in with him to acquire
+the land, he had kept silent about it, only staying up at Ballarat and
+guarding the claim lest someone else should chance on it. Fortunately
+the place where it was situated had not been renowned for gold in the
+early days, and it had passed into the hands of a man who used it as
+pasture land, quite ignorant of the wealth which lay beneath. When Mrs
+Villiers came up to Ballarat, this man wanted to sell the land, as he
+was going to Europe; so, acting under the urgent advice of McIntosh, she
+sold out of all the investments which she had and purchased the whole
+tract of country where the old miner assured her solemnly the Devil’s
+Lead was to be found.
+
+Then she built a house near the mine, and taking her old nurse, Selina
+Sprotts, and Archibald McIntosh to live with her, sank a shaft in
+the place indicated by the latter. She also engaged miners, and gave
+McIntosh full control over the mine, while she herself kept the books,
+paid the accounts, and proved herself to be a first-class woman of
+business. She had now been working the mine for two years, but as yet
+had not been fortunate enough to strike the lead. The gutter, however,
+proved remunerative enough to keep the mine going, pay all the men,
+and support Mrs Villiers herself, so she was quite content to wait till
+fortune should smile on her, and the long-looked-for Devil’s Lead turned
+up. People who had heard of her taking the land were astonished at
+first, and disposed to scoff, but they soon begun to admire the plucky
+way in which she fought down her ill-luck for the first year of her
+venture. All at once matters changed; she made a lucky speculation in
+the share market, and the Pactolus claim began to pay. Mrs Villiers
+became mixed up in mining matters, and bought and sold on ‘Change with
+such foresight and promptitude of action that she soon began to make a
+lot of money. Stockbrokers are not, as a rule, romantic, but one of
+the fraternity was so struck with her persistent good fortune that he
+christened her Madame Midas, after that Greek King whose touch turned
+everything into gold. This name tickled the fancy of others, and in a
+short time she was called nothing but Madame Midas all over the country,
+which title she accepted complacently enough as a forecast of her
+success in finding the Devil’s Lead, which idea had grown into a mania
+with her as it already was with her faithful henchman, McIntosh.
+
+When Mr Villiers therefore arrived in Ballarat, he found his wife
+universally respected and widely known as Madame Midas, so he went to
+see her, expecting to be kept in luxurious ease for the rest of his
+life. He soon, however, found himself mistaken, for his wife told him
+plainly she would have nothing to do with him, and that if he dared to
+show his face at the Pactolus claim she would have him turned off by
+her men. He threatened to bring the law into force to make her live with
+him, but she laughed in his face, and said she would bring a divorce
+suit against him if he did so; and as Mr Villiers’ character could
+hardly bear the light of day, he retreated, leaving Madame in full
+possession of the field.
+
+He stayed, however, in Ballarat, and took up stockbroking--living a
+kind of hand-to-mouth existence, bragging of his former splendour, and
+swearing at his wife for what he was pleased to call--her cruelty. Every
+now and then he would pay a visit to the Pactolus, and try to see her,
+but McIntosh was a vigilant guard, and the miserable creature was always
+compelled to go back to his Bohemian life without accomplishing his
+object of getting money from the wife he had deserted.
+
+People talked, of course, but Madame did not mind. She had tried married
+life, and had been disappointed; her old ideas of belief in human nature
+had passed away; in short, the girl who had been the belle of Melbourne
+as Miss Curtis and Mrs Villiers had disappeared, and the stern, clever,
+cynical woman who managed the Pactolus claim was a new being called
+‘Madame Midas’.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+SLIVERS
+
+
+Everyone has heard of the oldest inhabitant--that wonderful piece of
+antiquity, with white hair, garrulous tongue, and cast-iron memory,--who
+was born with the present century--very often before it--and
+remembers George III, the Battle of Waterloo, and the invention of the
+steam-engine. But in Australia, the oldest inhabitant is localized, and
+rechristened an early settler. He remembers Melbourne before Melbourne
+was; he distinctly recollects sailing up the Yarra Yarra with Batman,
+and talks wildly about the then crystalline purity of its waters--an
+assertion which we of to-day feel is open to considerable doubt. His
+wealth is unbounded, his memory marvellous, and his acquaintances of
+a somewhat mixed character, comprising as they do a series of persons
+ranging from a member of Parliament down to a larrikin.
+
+Ballarat, no doubt, possesses many of these precious pieces of antiquity
+hidden in obscure corners, but one especially was known, not only in
+the Golden City, but throughout Victoria. His name was Slivers--plain
+Slivers, as he said himself--and, from a physical point of view, he
+certainly spoke the truth. What his Christian name was no one ever knew;
+he called himself Slivers, and so did everyone else, without even an
+Esquire or a Mister to it--neither a head nor a tail to add dignity to
+the name.
+
+Slivers was as well known in Sturt Street and at ‘The Corner’ as the
+town clock, and his tongue very much resembled that timepiece, inasmuch
+as it was always going. He was a very early settler; in fact, so
+remarkably early that it was currently reported the first white men who
+came to Ballarat found Slivers had already taken up his abode there, and
+lived in friendly relations with the local blacks. He had achieved this
+amicable relationship by the trifling loss of a leg, an arm, and an eye,
+all of which portions of his body were taken off the right side, and
+consequently gave him rather a lop-sided appearance. But what was left
+of Slivers possessed an abundant vitality, and it seemed probable he
+would go on living in the same damaged condition for the next twenty
+years.
+
+The Ballarat folk were fond of pointing him out as a specimen of the
+healthy climate, but this was rather a flight of fancy, as Slivers was
+one of those exasperating individuals who, if they lived in a swamp or
+a desert, would still continue to feel their digestions good and their
+lungs strong.
+
+Slivers was reputed rich, and Arabian-Night-like stories were told of
+his boundless wealth, but no one ever knew the exact amount of money he
+had, and as Slivers never volunteered any information on the subject, no
+one ever did know. He was a small, wizen-looking little man, who usually
+wore a suit of clothes a size too large for him, wherein scandal-mongers
+averred his body rattled like a dried pea in a pod. His hair was white,
+and fringed the lower portion of his yellow little scalp in a most
+deceptive fashion. With his hat on Slivers looked sixty; take it off and
+his bald head immediately added ten years to his existence. His one eye
+was bright and sharp, of a greyish colour, and the loss of the other was
+replaced by a greasy black patch, which gave him a sinister appearance.
+He was cleaned shaved, and had no teeth, but notwithstanding this want,
+his lips gripped the stem of his long pipe in a wonderfully tenacious
+and obstinate manner. He carried on the business of a mining agent, and
+knowing all about the country and the intricacies of the mines, he was
+one of the cleverest speculators in Ballarat.
+
+The office of Slivers was in Sturt Street, in a dirty, tumble-down
+cottage wedged between two handsome modern buildings. It was a remnant
+of old Ballarat which had survived the rage for new houses and highly
+ornamented terraces. Slivers had been offered money for that ricketty
+little shanty, but he declined to sell it, averring that as a snail grew
+to fit his house his house had grown to fit him.
+
+So there it stood--a dingy shingle roof overgrown with moss--a quaint
+little porch and two numerously paned windows on each side. On top of
+the porch a sign-board--done by Slivers in the early days, and looking
+like it--bore the legend ‘Slivers, mining agent.’ The door did not
+shut--something was wrong with it, so it always stood ajar in a
+hospitable sort of manner. Entering this, a stranger would find himself
+in a dark low-roofed passage, with a door at the end leading to the
+kitchen, another on the right leading to the bedroom, and a third on
+the left leading to the office, where most of Slivers’ indoor life was
+spent. He used to stop here nearly all day doing business, with the
+small table before him covered with scrip, and the mantelpiece behind
+him covered with specimens of quartz, all labelled with the name of the
+place whence they came. The inkstand was dirty, the ink thick and the
+pens rusty; yet, in spite of all these disadvantages, Slivers managed
+to do well and make money. He used to recommend men to different mines
+round about, and whenever a manager wanted men, or new hands wanted
+work, they took themselves off to Slivers, and were sure to be satisfied
+there. Consequently, his office was nearly always full; either of people
+on business or casual acquaintances dropping in to have a drink--Slivers
+was generous in the whisky line--or to pump the old man about some
+new mine, a thing which no one ever managed to do. When the office was
+empty, Slivers would go on sorting the scrip on his table, drinking
+his whisky, or talking to Billy. Now Billy was about as well known in
+Ballarat as Slivers, and was equally as old and garrulous in his own
+way. He was one of those large white yellow-crested cockatoos who, in
+their captivity, pass their time like galley-slaves, chained by one leg.
+Billy, however, never submitted to the indignity of a chain--he mostly
+sat on Slivers’ table or on his shoulder, scratching his poll with his
+black claw, or chattering to Slivers in a communicative manner. People
+said Billy was Slivers’ evil spirit, and as a matter of fact, there was
+something uncanny in the wisdom of the bird. He could converse fluently
+on all occasions, and needed no drawing out, inasmuch as he was
+always ready to exhibit his powers of conversation. He was not a pious
+bird--belonging to Slivers, he could hardly be expected to be--and his
+language was redolent of Billingsgate. So Billy being so clever was
+quite a character in his way, and, seated on Slivers’ shoulder with his
+black bead of an eye watching his master writing with the rusty pen,
+they looked a most unholy pair.
+
+The warm sunlight poured through the dingy windows of the office, and
+filled the dark room with a sort of sombre glory. The atmosphere of
+Slivers’ office was thick and dusty, and the sun made long beams of
+light through the heavy air. Slivers had pushed all the scrip and loose
+papers away, and was writing a letter in the little clearing caused by
+their removal. On the old-fashioned inkstand was a paper full of grains
+of gold, and on this the sunlight rested, making it glitter in
+the obscurity of the room. Billy, seated on Slivers’ shoulder, was
+astonished at this, and, inspired by a spirit of adventure, he climbed
+down and waddled clumsily across the table to the inkstand, where he
+seized a small nugget in his beak and made off with it. Slivers looked
+up from his writing suddenly: so, being detected, Billy stopped and
+looked at him, still carrying the nugget in his beak.
+
+‘Drop it,’ said Slivers severely, in his rasping little voice. Billy
+pretended not to understand, and after eyeing Slivers for a moment or
+two resumed his journey. Slivers stretched out his hand for the ruler,
+whereupon Billy, becoming alive to his danger, dropped the nugget, and
+flew down off the table with a discordant shriek.
+
+‘Devil! devil! devil!’ screamed this amiable bird, flopping up and down
+on the floor. ‘You’re a liar! You’re a liar! Pickles.’
+
+Having delivered himself of this bad language, Billy waddled to his
+master’s chair, and climbing up by the aid of his claws and beak, soon
+established himself in his old position. Slivers, however, was not
+attending to him, as he was leaning back in his chair drumming in an
+absent sort of way with his lean fingers on the table. His cork arm hung
+down limply, and his one eye was fixed on a letter lying in front of
+him. This was a communication from the manager of the Pactolus Mine
+requesting Slivers to get him more hands, and Slivers’ thoughts had
+wandered away from the letter to the person who wrote it, and from
+thence to Madame Midas.
+
+‘She’s a clever woman,’ observed Slivers, at length, in a musing sort of
+tone, ‘and she’s got a good thing on in that claim if she only strikes
+the Lead.’
+
+‘Devil,’ said Billy once more, in a harsh voice.
+
+‘Exactly,’ answered Slivers, ‘the Devil’s Lead. Oh, Lord! what a fool I
+was not to have collared that ground before she did; but that infernal
+McIntosh never would tell me where the place was. Never mind, I’ll be
+even with him yet; curse him.’
+
+His expression of face was not pleasant as he said this, and he grasped
+the letter in front of him in a violent way, as if he were wishing his
+long fingers were round the writer’s throat. Tapping with his wooden leg
+on the floor, he was about to recommence his musings, when he heard a
+step in the passage, and the door of his office being pushed violently
+open, a man entered without further ceremony, and flung himself down on
+a chair near the window.
+
+‘Fire!’ said Billy, on seeing this abrupt entry; ‘how’s your
+mother!--Ballarat and Bendigo--Bendigo and Ballarat.’
+
+The newcomer was a man short and powerfully built, dressed in a
+shabby-genteel sort of way, with a massive head covered with black hair,
+heavy side whiskers and moustache, and a clean shaved chin, which had
+that blue appearance common to very dark men who shave. His mouth--that
+is, as much as could be seen of it under the drooping moustache--was
+weak and undecided, and his dark eyes so shifty and restless that they
+seemed unable to meet a steady gaze, but always looked at some inanimate
+object that would not stare them out of countenance.
+
+‘Well, Mr Randolph Villiers,’ croaked Slivers, after contemplating his
+visitor for a few moments, ‘how’s business?’
+
+‘Infernally bad,’ retorted Mr Villiers, pulling out a cigar and lighting
+it. ‘I’ve lost twenty pounds on those Moscow shares.’
+
+‘More fool you,’ replied Slivers, courteously, swinging round in his
+chair so as to face Villiers. ‘I could have told you the mine was no
+good; but you will go on your own bad judgment.’
+
+‘It’s like getting blood out of a stone to get tips from you,’ growled
+Villiers, with a sulky air. ‘Come now, old boy,’ in a cajoling manner,
+‘tell us something good--I’m nearly stone broke, and I must live.’
+
+‘I’m hanged if I see the necessity,’ malignantly returned Slivers,
+unconsciously quoting Voltaire; ‘but if you do want to get into a good
+thing--’
+
+‘Yes! yes!’ said the other, eagerly bending forward.
+
+‘Get an interest in the Pactolus,’ and the agreeable old gentleman
+leaned back and laughed loudly in a raucous manner at his visitor’s
+discomfited look.
+
+‘You ass,’ hissed Mr Villiers, between his closed teeth; ‘you know as
+well as I do that my infernal wife won’t look at me.’
+
+‘Ho, ho!’ laughed the cockatoo, raising his yellow crest in an angry
+manner; ‘devil take her--rather!’
+
+‘I wish he would!’ muttered Villiers, fervently; then with an uneasy
+glance at Billy, who sat on the old man’s shoulder complacently ruffling
+his feathers, he went on: ‘I wish you’d screw that bird’s neck, Slivers;
+he’s too clever by half.’
+
+Slivers paid no attention to this, but, taking Billy off his shoulder,
+placed him on the floor, then turned to his visitor and looked at him
+fixedly with his bright eye in such a penetrating manner that Villiers
+felt it go through him like a gimlet.
+
+‘I hate your wife,’ said Slivers, after a pause.
+
+‘Why the deuce should you?’ retorted Villiers, sulkily. ‘You ain’t
+married to her.’
+
+‘I wish I was,’ replied Slivers with a chuckle. ‘A fine woman, my good
+sir! Why, if I was married to her I wouldn’t sneak away whenever I saw
+her. I’d go up to the Pactolus claim and there I’d stay.’
+
+‘It’s easy enough talking,’ retorted Villiers crossly, ‘but you don’t
+know what a fiend she is! Why do you hate her?’
+
+‘Because I do,’ retorted Slivers. ‘I hate her; I hate McIntosh; the
+whole biling of them; they’ve got the Pactolus claim, and if they find
+the Devil’s Lead they’ll be millionaires.’
+
+‘Well,’ said the other, quite unmoved, ‘all Ballarat knows that much.’
+
+‘But I might have had it!’ shrieked Slivers, getting up in an excited
+manner, and stumping up and down the office. ‘I knew Curtis, McIntosh
+and the rest were making their pile, but I couldn’t find out where; and
+now they’re all dead but McIntosh, and the prize has slipped through my
+fingers, devil take them!’
+
+‘Devil take them,’ echoed the cockatoo, who had climbed up again on the
+table, and was looking complacently at his master.
+
+‘Why don’t you ruin your wife, you fool?’ said Slivers, turning
+vindictively on Villiers. ‘You ain’t going to let her have all the money
+while you are starving, are you?’
+
+‘How the deuce am I to do that?’ asked Villiers, sulkily, relighting his
+cigar.
+
+‘Get the whip hand of her,’ snarled Slivers, viciously; ‘find out if
+she’s in love, and threaten to divorce her if she doesn’t go halves.’
+
+‘There’s no chance of her having any lovers,’ retorted Villiers; ‘she’s
+a piece of ice.’
+
+‘Ice melts,’ replied Slivers, quickly. ‘Wait till “Mr Right” comes
+along, and then she’ll begin to regret being married to you, and then--’
+
+‘Well?’
+
+‘You’ll have the game in your own hands,’ hissed the wicked old man,
+rubbing his hands. ‘Oh!’ he cried, spinning round on his wooden leg,
+‘it’s a lovely idea. Wait till we meet “Mr Right”, just wait,’ and he
+dropped into his chair quite overcome by the state of excitement he had
+worked himself into.
+
+‘If you’ve quite done with those gymnastics, my friend,’ said a soft
+voice near the door, ‘perhaps I may enter.’
+
+Both the inmates of the office looked up at this, and saw that two men
+were standing at the half-open door--one an extremely handsome young
+man of about thirty, dressed in a neat suit of blue serge, and wearing a
+large white wide-awake hat, with a bird’s-eye handkerchief twisted round
+it. His companion was short and heavily built, dressed somewhat the
+same, but with his black hat pulled down over his eyes.
+
+‘Come in,’ growled Slivers, angrily, when he saw his visitors. ‘What the
+devil do you want?’
+
+‘Work,’ said the young man, advancing to the table. ‘We are new arrivals
+in the country, and were told to come to you to get work.’
+
+‘I don’t keep a factory,’ snarled Slivers, leaning forward.
+
+‘I don’t think I would come to you if you did,’ retorted the stranger,
+coolly. ‘You would not be a pleasant master either to look at or to
+speak to.’
+
+Villiers laughed at this, and Slivers stared dumbfounded at being spoken
+to in such a manner.
+
+‘Devil,’ broke in Billy, rapidly. ‘You’re a liar--devil.’
+
+‘Those, I presume, are your master’s sentiments towards me,’ said the
+young man, bowing gravely to the bird. ‘But as soon as he recovers the
+use of his tongue, I trust he will tell us if we can get work or not.’
+
+Slivers was just going to snap out a refusal, when he caught sight
+of McIntosh’s letter on the table, and this recalled to his mind the
+conversation he had with Mr Villiers. Here was a young man handsome
+enough to make any woman fall in love with him, and who, moreover, had a
+clever tongue in his head. All Slivers’ animosity revived against Madame
+Midas as he thought of the Devil’s Lead, and he determined to use this
+young man as a tool to ruin her in the eyes of the world. With these
+thoughts in his mind, he drew a sheet of paper towards him, and dipping
+the rusty pen in the thick ink, prepared to question his visitors as
+to what they could do, with a view to sending them out to the Pactolus
+claim.
+
+‘Names?’ he asked, grasping his pen firmly in his left hand.
+
+‘Mine,’ said the stranger, bowing, ‘is Gaston Vandeloup, my friend’s
+Pierre Lemaire--both French.’
+
+Slivers scrawled this down in the series of black scratches, which did
+duty with him for writing.
+
+‘Where do you come from?’ was his next question.
+
+‘The story,’ said M. Vandeloup, with suavity, ‘is too long to repeat at
+present; but we came to-day from Melbourne.’
+
+‘What kind of work can you do?’ asked Slivers, sharply.
+
+‘Anything that turns up,’ retorted the Frenchman.
+
+‘I was addressing your companion, sir; not you,’ snarled Slivers,
+turning viciously on him.
+
+‘I have to answer for both,’ replied the young man, coolly, slipping
+one hand into his pocket and leaning up against the door in a negligent
+attitude, ‘my friend is dumb.’
+
+‘Poor devil!’ said Slivers, harshly.
+
+‘But,’ went on Vandeloup, sweetly, ‘his legs, arms, and eyes are all
+there.’
+
+Slivers glared at this fresh piece of impertinence, but said nothing. He
+wrote a letter to McIntosh, recommending him to take on the two men, and
+handed it to Vandeloup, who received it with a bow.
+
+‘The price of your services, Monsieur?’ he asked.
+
+‘Five bob,’ growled Slivers, holding out his one hand.
+
+Vandeloup pulled out two half-crowns and put them in the thin, claw-like
+fingers, which instantly closed on them.
+
+‘It’s a mining place you’re going to,’ said Slivers, pocketing the
+money; ‘the Pactolus claim. There’s a pretty woman there. Have a drink?’
+
+Vandeloup declined, but his companion, with a grunt, pushed past him,
+and filling a tumbler with the whisky, drank it off. Slivers looked
+ruefully at the bottle, and then hastily put it away, in case Vandeloup
+should change his mind and have some.
+
+Vandeloup put on his hat and went to the door, out of which Pierre had
+already preceded him.
+
+‘I trust, gentlemen,’ he said, with a graceful bow, ‘we shall meet
+again, and can then discuss the beauty of this lady to whom Mr Slivers
+alludes. I have no doubt he is a judge of beauty in others, though he is
+so incomplete himself.’
+
+He went out of the door, and then Slivers sprang up and rushed to
+Villiers.
+
+‘Do you know who that is?’ he asked, in an excited manner, pulling his
+companion to the window.
+
+Villiers looked through the dusty panes, and saw the young Frenchman
+walking away, as handsome and gallant a man as he had ever seen,
+followed by the slouching figure of his friend.
+
+‘Vandeloup,’ he said, turning to Slivers, who was trembling with
+excitement.
+
+‘No, you fool,’ retorted the other, triumphantly. That is “Mr Right”.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+MADAME MIDAS AT HOME
+
+
+Madame Midas was standing on the verandah of her cottage, staring far
+away into the distance, where she could see the tall chimney and huge
+mound of white earth which marked the whereabouts of the Pactolus claim.
+She was a tall voluptuous-looking woman of what is called a Junoesque
+type--decidedly plump, with firm white hands and well-formed feet. Her
+face was of a whitish tint, more like marble than flesh, and appeared
+as if modelled from the antique--with the straight Greek nose, high and
+smooth forehead, and full red mouth, with firmly-closed lips. She had
+dark and piercing eyes, with heavy arched eyebrows above them, and her
+hair, of a bluish-black hue, was drawn smoothly over the forehead, and
+coiled in thick wreaths at the top of her small, finely-formed head.
+Altogether a striking-looking woman, but with an absence of animation
+about her face, which had a calm, serene expression, effectually hiding
+any thoughts that might be passing in her mind, and which resembled
+nothing so much in its inscrutable look as the motionless calm which the
+old Egyptians gave to their sphinxes. She was dressed for coolness in a
+loose white dress, tied round her waist with a crimson scarf of
+Indian silk; and her beautifully modelled arms, bare to the elbow,
+and unadorned by any trinkets, were folded idly in front of her as she
+looked out at the landscape, which was mellowed and full of warmth under
+the bright yellow glare of the setting sun.
+
+The cottage--for it was nothing else--stood on a slight rise immediately
+in front of a dark wood of tall gum-trees, and there was a long row of
+them on the right, forming a shelter against the winds, as if the wood
+had thrown a protecting arm around the cottage, and wanted to draw it
+closer to its warm bosom. The country was of an undulating character,
+divided into fields by long rows of gorse hedges, all golden with
+blossoms, which gave out a faint, peach-like odour. Some of these
+meadows were yellow with corn--some a dull red with sorrel, others left
+in their natural condition of bright green grass--while here and there
+stood up, white and ghost-like, the stumps of old trees, the last
+remnants of the forests, which were slowly retreating before the axe
+of the settler. These fields, which had rather a harlequin aspect with
+their varied colours, all melted together in the far distance into an
+indescribable neutral tint, and ended in the dark haze of the bush,
+which grew over all the undulating hills. On the horizon, however,
+at intervals, a keen eye could see some tall tree standing boldly up,
+outlined clearly against the pale yellow of the sky. There was a white
+dusty road or rather a track between two rough fences, with a wide space
+of green grass on each side, and here and there could be seen the cattle
+wandering idly homeward, lingering every now and then to pull at a
+particularly tempting tuft of bush grass growing in the moist
+ditches which ran along each side of the highway. Scattered over this
+pastoral-looking country were huge mounds of white earth, looking like
+heaps of carded wool, and at the end of each of these invariably stood
+a tall, ugly skeleton of wood. These marked the positions of the
+mines--the towers contained the winding gear, while the white earth was
+the clay called mulloch, brought from several hundred feet below the
+surface. Near these mounds were rough-looking sheds with tall red
+chimneys, which made a pleasant spot of colour against the white of
+the clay. On one of these mounds, rather isolated from the others, and
+standing by itself in the midst of a wide green paddock, Mrs Villiers’
+eyes were fixed, and she soon saw the dark figure of a man coming slowly
+down the white mound, along the green field and advancing slowly up the
+hill. When she saw him coming, without turning her head or raising her
+voice, she called out to someone inside,
+
+‘Archie is coming, Selina--you had better hurry up the tea, for he will
+be hungry after such a long day.’
+
+The person inside made no answer save by an extra clatter of some
+domestic utensils, and Madame apparently did not expect a reply, for
+without saying anything else she walked slowly down the garden path, and
+leaned lightly over the gate, waiting for the newcomer, who was indeed
+none other than Archibald McIntosh, the manager of the Pactolus.
+
+He was a man of about medium height, rather thin than otherwise, with a
+long, narrow-looking head and boldly cut features--clean shaved save for
+a frill of white hair which grew on his throat up the sides of his head
+to his ears, and which gave him rather a peculiar appearance, as if he
+had his jaw bandaged up. His eyes were grey and shrewd-looking, his lips
+were firmly compressed--in fact, the whole appearance of his face was
+obstinate--the face of a man who would stick to his opinions whatever
+anyone else might say to the contrary. He was in a rough miner’s dress,
+all splashed with clay, and as he came up to the gate Madame could see
+he was holding something in his hand.
+
+‘D’ye no ken what yon may be?’ he said, a smile relaxing his grim
+features as he held up a rather large nugget; ‘’tis the third yin this
+week!’
+
+Madame Midas took the nugget from him and balanced it carefully in her
+hand, with a thoughtful look in her face, as if she was making a mental
+calculation.
+
+‘About twenty to twenty-five ounces, I should say,’ she observed in
+her soft low voice; ‘the last we had was fifteen, and the one before
+twenty--looks promising for the gutter, doesn’t it?’
+
+‘Well, I’ll no say but what it micht mean a deal mair,’ replied
+McIntosh, with characteristic Scotch caution, as he followed Madame into
+the house; ‘it’s no a verra bad sign, onyhow; I winna say but what we
+micht be near the Devil’s Lead.’
+
+‘And if we are?’ said Madame, turning with a smile.
+
+‘Weel, mem, ye’ll have mair siller nor ye’ll ken what to dae wi’, an’
+‘tis to be hoped ye’ll no be making a fool of yersel.’
+
+Madame laughed--she was used to McIntosh’s plain speaking, and it in no
+wise offended her. In fact, she preferred it very much more than being
+flattered, as people’s blame is always genuine, their praise rarely so.
+At all events she was not displeased, and looked after him with a smile
+in her dark eyes as he disappeared into the back kitchen to make himself
+decent for tea. Madame herself sat down in an arm-chair in the bow
+window, and watched Selina preparing the meal.
+
+Selina Jane Sprotts, who now acted as servant to Mrs Villiers, was
+rather an oddity in her way. She had been Madame’s nurse, and had
+followed her up to Ballarat, with the determination of never leaving
+her. Selina was a spinster, as her hand had never been sought
+in marriage, and her personal appearance was certainly not very
+fascinating. Tall and gaunt, she was like a problem from Euclid, all
+angles, and the small quantity of grey hair she possessed was screwed
+into a hard lump at the back of her head. Her face was reddish in
+colour, and her mouth prim and pursed up, as if she was afraid of saying
+too much, which she need not have been, as she rarely spoke, and was
+as economical of her words as she was of everything else. She was much
+given to quoting proverbs, and hurled these prepared little pieces of
+wisdom on every side like pellets out of a pop-gun. Conversation which
+consists mainly of proverbs is rarely exhilarating; consequently Miss
+Sprotts was not troubled to talk much, either by Madame or McIntosh.
+
+Miss Sprotts moved noiselessly about the small room, in a wonderfully
+dextrous manner considering her height, and, after laying the table,
+placed the teapot on the hob to ‘draw’, thereby disturbing a cat and
+a dog who were lying in front of the fire--for there was a fire in the
+room in spite of the heat of the day, Selina choosing to consider that
+the house was damp. She told Madame she knew it was damp because her
+bones ached, and as she was mostly bones she certainly had a good
+opportunity of judging.
+
+Annoyed at being disturbed by Miss Sprotts, the dog resigned his
+comfortable place with a plaintive growl, but the cat, of a more
+irritable temperament, set up and made a sudden scratch at her hand,
+drawing blood therefrom.
+
+‘Animals,’ observed Selina, grimly, ‘should keep their place;’ and she
+promptly gave the cat a slap on the side of the head, which sent him
+over to Madame’s feet, with an angry spit. Madame picked him up and
+soothed his ruffled feelings so successfully, that he curled himself up
+on her lap and went to sleep.
+
+By-and-bye Archie, who had been making a great splashing in the back
+premises, came in looking clean and fresh, with a more obstinate look
+about his face than ever. Madame went to the tea-table and sat down,
+for she always had her meals with them, a fact of which they were very
+proud, and they always treated her with intense respect, though every
+now and then they were inclined to domineer. Archie, having seen that
+the food on the table was worth thanking God for, asked a blessing in
+a peremptory sort of manner, as if he thought Heaven required a deal of
+pressing to make it attentive. Then they commenced to eat in silence,
+for none of the party were very much given to speech, and no sound was
+heard save the rattling of the cups and saucers and the steady ticking
+of the clock. The window was open, and a faint breeze came in--cool and
+fragrant with the scent of the forest, and perfumed with the peach-like
+odour of the gorse blossoms. There was a subdued twilight through all
+the room, for the night was coming on, and the gleam of the flickering
+flames of the fire danced gaily against the roof and exaggerated all
+objects to an immense size. At last Archie pushed back his chair to show
+that he had finished, and prepared to talk.
+
+‘I dinna see ony new bodies coming,’ he said, looking at his mistress.
+‘They, feckless things, that left were better than none, though they
+should hae been skelped for their idleness.’
+
+‘You have written to Slivers?’ said Madame, raising her eyes.
+
+‘That wudden-legged body,’ retorted McIntosh. ‘Deed and I have, but the
+auld tyke hasna done onything to getting me what I want. Weel, weel,’ in
+a resigned sort of a manner, ‘we micht be waur off than we are, an’ wha
+kens but what Providence will send us men by-and-bye?’
+
+Selina looked up at this, saw her opportunity, and let slip an
+appropriate proverb.
+
+‘If we go by by-and-bye lane,’ she said sharply, ‘we come to the gate of
+never.’
+
+This being undeniable, no one gave her the pleasure of contradicting
+her, for Archie knew it was impossible to argue with Selina, so handy
+was she with her proverbial wisdom--a kind of domestic Tupper, whose
+philosophy was of the most irritating and unanswerable kind. He did
+the wisest thing he could under the circumstances, and started a new
+subject.
+
+‘I say yon the day.’
+
+‘Yon’ in this case meant Mr Villiers, whose name was tabooed in the
+house, and was always spoken of in a half-hinting kind of way. As both
+her servants knew all about her unhappy life, Madame did not scruple to
+talk to them.
+
+‘How was he looking?’ she asked, smoothing the crumbs off her dress.
+
+‘Brawly,’ replied Archie, rising; ‘he lost money on that Moscow mine,
+but he made a fine haul owre the Queen o’ Hearts claim.’
+
+‘The wicked,’ observed Selina, ‘flourish like a green bay tree.’
+
+‘Ou, ay,’ retorted McIntosh, drily; ‘we ken a’ aboot that, Selina--auld
+Hornie looks after his ain.’
+
+‘I think he leads a very hand-to-mouth existence,’ said Madame, calmly;
+‘however rich he may become, he will always be poor, because he never
+was a provident man.’
+
+‘He’s comin’ tae see ye, mem,’ said Archie, grimly, lighting his pipe.
+
+Madame rose to her feet and walked to the window.
+
+‘He’s done that before,’ she said, complacently; ‘the result was not
+satisfactory.’
+
+‘Continual dropping wears away a stone,’ said Selina, who was now
+clearing away.
+
+‘But not iron,’ replied Madame, placidly; ‘I don’t think his persistence
+will gain anything.’
+
+Archie smiled grimly, and then went outside to smoke his pipe, while
+Madame sat down by the open window and looked out at the fast-fading
+landscape.
+
+Her thoughts were not pleasant. She had hoped to cut herself off from
+all the bitterness and sorrow of her past life, but this husband of
+hers, like an unquiet spirit, came to trouble her and remind her of
+a time she would willingly have forgotten. She looked calm and quiet
+enough sitting there with her placid face and smooth brow; but this
+woman was like a slumbering volcano, and her passions were all the more
+dangerous from being kept in check.
+
+A bat flew high up in the air across the clear glow of the sky,
+disappearing into the adjacent bush, and Madame, stretching out her
+hand, idly plucked a fresh, dewy rose off the tree which grew round the
+window.
+
+‘If I could only get rid of him,’ she thought, toying with the flower;
+‘but it is impossible. I can’t do that without money, and money I never
+will have till I find that lead. I must bribe him, I suppose. Oh, why
+can’t he leave me alone now? Surely he has ruined my life sufficiently
+in the past to let me have a few years, if not of pleasure, at least of
+forgetfulness.’ And with a petulant gesture she hurled the rose out
+of the window, where it struck Archie a soft and fragrant blow on the
+cheek.
+
+‘Yes,’ said Madame to herself, as she pulled down the window, ‘I must
+get rid of him, and if bribery won’t do--there are other means.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE GOOD SAMARITAN
+
+
+Is there anyone nowadays who reads Cowper--that charming, domestic poet
+who wrote ‘The Task’, and invested even furniture with the glamour of
+poesy? Alas! to many people Cowper is merely a name, or is known only as
+the author of the delightfully quaint ballad of John Gilpin. Yet he
+was undoubtedly the Poet Laureate of domesticity, and every householder
+should possess a bust or picture of him--placed, not amid the frigid
+splendours of the drawing room, but occupying the place of honour in
+his own particular den, where everything is old-fashioned, cheery, and
+sanctified by long usage. No one wrote so pleasantly about the pleasures
+of a comfortable room as Cowper. And was he not right to do so? After
+all, every hearth is the altar of the family, whereon the sacred fire
+should be kept constantly burning, waxing and waning with the seasons,
+but never be permitted to die out altogether. Miss Sprotts, as before
+mentioned, was much in favour of a constant fire, because of the alleged
+dampness of the house, and Madame Midas did not by any means object, as
+she was a perfect salamander for heat. Hence, when the outward door
+was closed, the faded red curtains of the window drawn, and the newly
+replenished fire blazed brightly in the wide fireplace, the room was
+one which even Cowper--sybarite in home comforts as he was--would have
+contemplated with delight.
+
+Madame Midas was seated now at the small table in the centre of the
+room, poring over a bewildering array of figures, and the soft glow of
+the lamp touched her smooth hair and white dress with a subdued light.
+
+Archie sat by the fire, half asleep, and there was a dead silence in the
+room, only broken by the rapid scratching of Madame’s pen or the click
+of Selina’s needles. At last Mrs Villiers, with a sigh of relief, laid
+down her pen, put all her papers together, and tied them neatly with a
+bit of string.
+
+‘I’m afraid I’ll have to get a clerk, Archie,’ she said, as she put the
+papers away, ‘the office work is getting too much for me.’
+
+‘’Deed, mem, and ‘tis that same I was thinkin’ o’,’ returned Mr
+McIntosh, sitting bolt upright in his chair, lest the imputation of
+having been asleep should be brought against him. ‘It’s ill wark seein’
+ye spoilin’ your bonny eyes owre sic a muckle lot o’ figures as ye hae
+there.’
+
+‘Someone must do it,’ said Madame, resuming her seat at the table.
+
+‘Then why not get a body that can dae it?’ retorted Archie; ‘not but
+what ye canna figure yersel’, mem, but really ye need a rest, and if I
+hear of onyone in toun wha we can trust I’ll bring him here next week.’
+
+‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t,’ said Madame, musingly; ‘the mine is
+fairly under way now, and if things go on as they are doing, I must have
+someone to assist me.’
+
+At this moment a knock came to the front door, which caused Selina to
+drop her work with a sudden start, and rise to her feet.
+
+‘Not you, Selina,’ said Madame, in a quiet voice; ‘let Archie go; it may
+be some tramp.’
+
+‘’Deed no, mem,’ replied Archie, obstinately, as he arose from his seat;
+‘’tis verra likely a man fra the warks saying he wants to go. There’s
+mair talk nor sense aboot them, I’m thinkin’--the yattering parrots.’
+
+Selina resumed her knitting in a most phlegmatic manner, but Madame
+listened intently, for she was always haunted by a secret dread of
+her husband breaking in on her, and it was partly on this account that
+McIntosh stayed in the house. She heard a murmur of voices, and then
+Archie returned with two men, who entered the room and stood before
+Madame in the light of the lamp.
+
+‘’Tis two men fra that wudden-legged gowk o’ a Slivers,’ said Archie,
+respectfully. ‘Ain o’ them has a wee bit letter for ye’--turning to
+receive same from the foremost man.
+
+The man, however, did not take notice of Archie’s gesture, but walking
+forward to Madame, laid the letter down before her. As he did so, she
+caught sight of the delicacy of his hands, and looked up suddenly with a
+piercing gaze. He bore the scrutiny coolly, and took a chair in silence,
+his companion doing the same, while Madame opened the letter and read
+Slivers’ bad writing with a dexterity only acquired by long practice.
+Having finished her perusal, she looked up slowly.
+
+‘A broken-down gentleman,’ she said to herself, as she saw the easy
+bearing and handsome face of the young man; then looking at his
+companion, she saw by his lumpish aspect and coarse hands, that he
+occupied a much lower rank of life than his friend.
+
+Monsieur Vandeloup--for it was he--caught her eye as she was
+scrutinising them, and his face broke into a smile--a most charming
+smile, as Madame observed mentally, though she allowed nothing of her
+thoughts to appear on her face.
+
+‘You want work,’ she said, slowly folding up the letter, and placing it
+in her pocket; ‘do you understand anything about gold-mining?’
+
+‘Unfortunately, no, Madame,’ said Vandeloup, coolly; ‘but we are willing
+to learn.’
+
+Archie grunted in a dissatisfied manner, for he was by no means in
+favour of teaching people their business, and, besides, he thought
+Vandeloup too much of a gentleman to do good work.
+
+‘You look hardly strong enough for such hard labour,’ said Mrs Villiers,
+doubtfully eyeing the slender figure of the young man. ‘Your companion,
+I think, will do, but you--’
+
+‘I, Madame, am like the lilies of the field that neither toil nor spin,’
+replied Vandeloup, gaily; ‘but, unfortunately, I am now compelled by
+necessity to work, and though I should prefer to earn my bread in an
+easier manner, beggars,’--with a characteristic shrug, which did not
+escape Madame’s eye--cannot be choosers.’
+
+‘You are French?’ she asked quickly, in that language.
+
+‘Yes, Madame,’ he replied in the same tongue, ‘both my friend and myself
+are from Paris, but we have not been long out here.’
+
+‘Humph,’ Madame leaned her head on her hand and thought, while Vandeloup
+looked at her keenly, and remembered what Slivers had said.
+
+‘She is, indeed, a handsome woman,’ he observed, mentally; ‘my lines
+will fall in pleasant places, if I remain here.’
+
+Mrs Villiers rather liked the looks of this young man; there was a
+certain fascination about him which few women could resist, and Madame,
+although steeled to a considerable extent by experience, was yet a
+woman. His companion, however, she did not care about--he had a sullen
+and lowering countenance, and looked rather dangerous.
+
+‘What is your name?’ she asked the young man.
+
+‘Gaston Vandeloup.’
+
+‘You are a gentleman?’
+
+He bowed, but said nothing.
+
+‘And you?’ asked Madame, sharply turning to the other.
+
+He looked up and touched his mouth.
+
+‘Pardon him not answering, Madame,’ interposed Vandeloup, ‘he has the
+misfortune to be dumb.’
+
+‘Dumb?’ echoed Madame, with a glance of commiseration, while Archie
+looked startled, and Selina mentally observed that silence was golden.
+
+‘Yes, he has been so from his birth,--at least, so he gives me
+to understand,’ said Gaston, with a shrug of his shoulders, which
+insinuated a doubt on the subject; ‘but it’s more likely the result
+of an accident, for he can hear though he cannot speak. However, he is
+strong and willing to work; and I also, if you will kindly give me an
+opportunity,’ added he, with a winning smile.
+
+‘You have not many qualifications,’ said Madame, shortly, angry with
+herself for so taking to this young man’s suave manner.
+
+‘Probably not,’ retorted Vandeloup, with a cynical smile. ‘I fancy it
+will be more a case of charity than anything else, as we are starving.’
+
+Madame started, while Archie murmured ‘Puir deils.’
+
+‘Surely not as bad as that?’ observed Mrs Villiers, in a softer tone.
+
+‘Why not?’ retorted the Frenchman, carelessly. ‘Manna does not fall from
+heaven as in the days of Moses. We are strangers in a strange land, and
+it is hard to obtain employment. My companion Pierre can work in your
+mine, and if you will take me on I can keep your books’--with a sudden
+glance at a file of papers on the table.
+
+‘Thank you, I keep my own books,’ replied Madame, shortly. ‘What do you
+say to engaging them, Archie?’
+
+‘We ma gie them a try,’ said McIntosh, cautiously. ‘Ye do need a figger
+man, as I tauld ye, and the dour deil can wark i’ the claim.’
+
+Madame drew a long breath, and then made up her mind.
+
+‘Very well,’ she said, sharply; ‘you are engaged, M. Vandeloup, as my
+clerk, and your companion can work in the mine. As to wages and all
+that, we will settle to-morrow, but I think you will find everything
+satisfactory.’
+
+‘I am sure of that, Madame,’ returned Vandeloup, with a bow.
+
+‘And now,’ said Madame Midas, graciously, relaxing somewhat now that
+business was over, ‘you had better have some supper.’
+
+Pierre’s face lighted up when he heard this invitation, and Vandeloup
+bowed politely.
+
+‘You are very kind,’ he said, looking at Mrs Villiers in a friendly
+manner; ‘supper is rather a novelty to both of us.’
+
+Selina meanwhile had gone out, and returned with some cold beef and
+pickles, a large loaf and a jug of beer. These she placed on the table,
+and then retired to her seat again, inwardly rebellious at having two
+tramps at the table, but outwardly calm.
+
+Pierre fell upon the victuals before him with the voracity of a starving
+animal, and ate and drank in such a savage manner that Madame was
+conscious of a kind of curious repugnance, and even Archie was startled
+out of his Scotch phlegm.
+
+‘I wadna care aboot keepin’ yon long,’ he muttered to himself; ‘he’s
+mair like a cannibal nor a ceevalized body.’
+
+Vandeloup, however, ate very little and soon finished; then filling a
+glass with beer, he held it to his lips and bowed again to Madame Midas.
+
+‘To your health, Madame,’ he said, drinking.
+
+Mrs Villiers bowed courteously. This young man pleased her. She was
+essentially a woman with social instincts, and the appearance of this
+young and polished stranger in the wilds of the Pactolus claim promised
+her a little excitement. It was true that every now and then, when she
+caught a glimpse from his scintillating eyes, she was conscious of a
+rather unpleasant sensation, but this she put down to fancy, as the
+young man’s manners were really charming.
+
+When the supper was ended, Pierre pushed back his chair into the shadow
+and once more relapsed into his former gloom, but Vandeloup stood up and
+looked towards Madame in a hesitating manner.
+
+‘I’m afraid, Madame, we disturb you,’ he murmured vaguely, though in
+his heart he wished to stay in this pleasant room and talk to such a
+handsome woman; ‘we had best be going.’
+
+‘Not at all,’ answered Madame, graciously, ‘sit down; you and your
+friend can sleep in the men’s quarters to-night, and to-morrow we will
+see if we can’t provide you with a better resting-place.’
+
+Vandeloup murmured something indistinctly, and then resumed his seat.
+
+‘Meanwhile,’ said Mrs Villiers, leaning back in her chair, and regarding
+him fixedly, ‘tell me all about yourselves.’
+
+‘Alas, Madame,’ answered Vandeloup, with a charming smile and
+deprecating shrug of his shoulders, ‘there is not much to tell. I was
+brought up in Paris, and, getting tired of city life, I came out to
+India to see a little of the world; then I went over to Borneo, and was
+coming down to Australia, when our vessel was wrecked and all on board
+were drowned but myself and this fellow,’ pointing to Pierre, ‘who was
+one of the sailors. We managed to get a boat, and after tossing about
+for nearly a week we were cast up on the coast of Queensland, and from
+thence came to Melbourne. I could not get work there, neither could
+my friend, and as we heard of Ballarat we came up here to try to get
+employment, and our lines, Madame,’--with another bow--‘have fallen in a
+pleasant place.’
+
+‘What a dreadful chapter of accidents,’ said Madame, coolly looking at
+him to see if he was speaking the truth, for experience of her husband
+had inspired her with an instinctive distrust of men. Vandeloup,
+however, bore her scrutiny without moving a muscle of his face, so
+Madame at last withdrew her eyes, quite satisfied that his story was
+true.
+
+‘Is there no one in Paris to whom you can write?’ she asked, after a
+pause.
+
+‘Luckily, there is,’ returned Gaston, ‘and I have already sent a letter,
+asking for a remittance, but it takes time to get an answer, and as I
+have lost all my books, papers, and money, I must just wait for a few
+months, and, as I have to live in the meantime, I am glad to obtain
+work.’
+
+‘Still, your consul--’ began Mrs Villiers.
+
+‘Alas, Madame, what can I say--how can I prove to him that I am what
+I assert to be? My companion is dumb and cannot speak for me, and,
+unluckily, he can neither read nor write. I have no papers to prove
+myself, so my consul may think me--what you call--a scamp. No; I will
+wait till I receive news from home, and get to my own position again;
+besides,’ with a shrug, ‘after all, it is experience.’
+
+‘Experience,’ said Madame, quietly, ‘is a good schoolmaster, but the
+fees are somewhat high.’
+
+‘Ah!’ said Vandeloup, with a pleased look, ‘you know Heine, I perceive,
+Madame. I did not know he was read out here.’
+
+‘We are not absolute barbarians, M. Vandeloup,’ said Madame, with a
+smile, as she arose and held out her hand to the young man; ‘and now
+good night, for I am feeling tired, and I will see you to-morrow. Mr
+McIntosh will show you where you are to sleep.’
+
+Vandeloup took the hand she held out to him and pressed it to his lips
+with a sudden gesture. ‘Madame,’ he said, passionately, ‘you are an
+angel, for to-day you have saved the lives of two men.’
+
+Madame snatched her hand away quickly, and a flush of annoyance spread
+over her face as she saw how Selina and Archie stared. Vandeloup,
+however, did not wait for her answer, but went out, followed by Pierre.
+Archie put on his hat and walked out after them, while Madame Midas
+stood looking at Selina with a thoughtful expression of countenance.
+
+‘I don’t know if I’ve done a right thing, Selina,’ she said, at length;
+‘but as they were starving I could hardly turn them away.’
+
+‘Cast your bread on the waters and it shall come back after many
+days--buttered,’ said Selina, giving her own version of the text.
+
+Madame laughed.
+
+‘M. Vandeloup talks well,’ she observed.
+
+‘So did HE,’ replied Selina, with a sniff, referring to Mr Villiers;
+‘once bitten, twice shy.’
+
+‘Quite right, Selina,’ replied Mrs Villiers, coolly; ‘but you are going
+too fast. I’m not going to fall in love with my servant.’
+
+‘You’re a woman,’ retorted Selina, undauntedly, for she had not much
+belief in her own sex.
+
+‘Yes, who has been tricked and betrayed by a man,’ said Madame,
+fiercely; ‘and do you think because I succour a starving human being
+I am attracted by his handsome face? You ought to know me better than
+that, Selina. I have always been true to myself,’ and without another
+word she left the room.
+
+Selina stood still for a moment, then deliberately put away her work,
+slapped the cat in order to relieve her feelings, and poked the fire
+vigorously.
+
+‘I don’t like him,’ she said, emphasizing every word with a poke. ‘He’s
+too smooth and handsome, his eyes ain’t true, and his tongue’s too
+smart. I hate him.’
+
+Having delivered herself of this opinion, she went to boil some water
+for Mr McIntosh, who always had some whisky hot before going to bed.
+
+Selina was right in her estimate of Vandeloup, and, logically argued,
+the case stood thus:--
+
+Some animals of a fine organization have an instinct which warns them to
+avoid approaching danger.
+
+Woman is one of these finely-organized animals. ERGO--
+
+Let no woman go contrary to her instinct.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+MAMMON’S TREASURE HOUSE
+
+
+At the foot of the huge mound of white mulloch which marked the site
+of the Pactolus Mine was a long zinc-roofed building, which was divided
+into two compartments. In one of these the miners left their clothes,
+and put on rough canvas suits before going down, and here also they were
+searched on coming up in order to see if they had carried away any gold.
+From this room a long, narrow passage led to the top of the shaft, so
+that any miner having gold concealed upon him could not throw it away
+and pick it up afterwards, but had to go right into the searching room
+from the cage, and could not possibly hide a particle without being
+found out by the searchers. The other room was the sleeping apartment of
+such miners as stayed on the premises, for the majority of the men went
+home to their families when their work was done.
+
+There were three shifts of men on the Pactolus during the twenty-four
+hours, and each shift worked eight hours at a time--the first going
+on at midnight and knocking off at eight in the morning, the second
+commencing at eight and ending at four in the afternoon, and the third
+starting at four and lasting until midnight again, when the first shift
+of men began anew.
+
+Consequently, when M. Vandeloup awoke next morning at six o’clock the
+first shift were not yet up, and some of the miners who had to go on
+at eight were sleeping heavily in their beds. The sleeping places were
+berths, ranging along two sides of the room, and divided into upper and
+lower compartments like those on shipboard.
+
+Gaston having roused himself naturally wanted to see where he was, so
+rubbing his eyes and yawning he leaned on his elbow and took a leisurely
+survey of his position.
+
+He saw a rather large room lighted at regular intervals by three square
+windows, and as these were uncurtained, the cold, searching light of
+daybreak was slowly stealing through them into the apartment, and all
+the dusky objects therein were gradually revealing themselves in the
+still light. He could hear the heavy, monotonous breathing of the men,
+and the restless turning and tossing of those who could not sleep.
+
+Gaston yawned once or twice, then feeling disinclined for any more
+sleep, he softly put on his clothes, so as not to awake Pierre, who
+slept in the berth below, and descending from his sleeping-place groped
+his way to the door and went out into the cool fragrant morning.
+
+There was a chill wind blowing from the bush, bringing with it a faint
+aromatic odour, and on glancing downwards he saw that the grass was wet
+with dew. The dawn was burning redly in the east, and the vivid crimson
+of the sky put him in mind of that sunset under which he had landed with
+his companion on the Queensland coast. Suddenly a broad shaft of yellow
+light broke into the pale pink of the sky, and with a burst of splendour
+the sun rose slowly into sight from behind the dark bush, and all the
+delicate workings of the dawn disappeared in the flood of golden light
+which poured over the landscape.
+
+Vandeloup looked idly at all this beauty with an unobservant eye, being
+too much occupied with his thoughts to take notice of anything; and it
+was only when two magpies near him broke into a joyous duet, in which
+each strove to emulate the other’s mellow notes, that he awoke from his
+brown study, and began to walk back again to the mine.
+
+‘I must let nothing stand in my way to acquire money,’ he said,
+musingly; ‘with it one can rule the world; without it--but how trite
+and bald these well-worn maxims seem! Why do I repeat them, parrot-like,
+when I see what I have to do so clearly before me? That woman, for
+instance--I must begin by making her my friend. Bah! she is that
+already; I saw it in her eyes, which she can’t control as she does
+her face. Yes, I must make her my friend; my very dear friend--and
+then--well, to my mind, the world-pivot is a woman. I will spare no one
+in order to attain my ends--I will make myself my own God, and consider
+no one but myself, and those who stand in my path must get out of it or
+run the chance of being crushed. This,’ with a cynical smile, ‘is what
+some would call the devil’s philosophy; at all events, it is good enough
+for me.’
+
+He was near the mine by this time, and hearing someone calling to him he
+looked up, and saw McIntosh walking towards him. There was a stir in
+the men’s quarters now, and he could see the door was open and several
+figures were moving briskly about, while a number of others were
+crossing the fields. The regular beat of the machinery still continued,
+and the smoke was pouring out thick and black from the tall red chimney,
+while the wheels were spinning round in the poppet-heads as the mine
+slowly disgorged the men who had been working all night.
+
+McIntosh came slowly along with his hands in his pockets and a puzzled
+look on his severe face. He could not make up his mind whether to like
+or dislike this young man, but Madame Midas had seemed so impressed
+that he had half made up his mind to dislike him out of a spirit of
+contradiction.
+
+‘Weemen are sae easy pleased, puir feckless bodies,’ he said to himself,
+‘a bonny face is a’ they fash their heads aboot, though the same may be
+already in the grip of auld Nickyben. Weel, weel, if Madam does fancy
+the lad--an’ he’s no bad lookin’, I’ll say that--she may just hae her
+ain way, and I’ll keep my e’e on baith.’
+
+He looked grimly at the young man as he came briskly forward with a gay
+smile.
+
+‘Ye’re a verra early bird,’ he said, fondling his frill of white hair,
+and looking keenly at the tall, slim figure of the Frenchman.
+
+‘Case of “must”, my friend,’ returned Vandeloup, coolly; ‘it’s only rich
+men can afford to be in bed, not poor devils like me.’
+
+‘You’re no muckle like ither folk,’ said the suspicious old Scotchman,
+with a condemnatory sniff.
+
+‘Of that I am glad,’ retorted Vandeloup, with suavity, as he walked
+beside him to the men’s quarters. ‘What a horrible thing to be the
+duplicate of half-a-dozen other men. By the way,’ breaking off into a
+new subject, ‘Madame Midas is charming.’
+
+‘Aye, aye,’ said Archie, jealously, ‘we ken all aboot they
+French-fangled way o’ gieing pretty words, and deil a scrap of truth in
+ony o’ them.’
+
+Gaston was about to protest that he said no more than he felt, which was
+indeed the truth, but Archie impatiently hurried him off to breakfast at
+the office, as he declared himself famishing. They made a hearty meal,
+and, having had a smoke and a talk, prepared to go below.
+
+First of all, they arrayed themselves in underground garments--not grave
+clothes, though the name is certainly suggestive of the cemetery--which
+consisted of canvas trousers, heavy boots, blue blouses of a rough
+woollen material, and a sou’wester each. Thus accoutred, they went
+along to the foot of the poppet heads, and Archie having opened a door
+therein, Vandeloup saw the mouth of the shaft yawning dark and gloomy
+at his feet. As he stood there, gazing at the black hole which seemed to
+pierce down into the entrails of the earth, he turned round to take one
+last look at the sun before descending to the nether world.
+
+This is quite a new experience to me,’ he said, as they stepped into the
+wet iron cage, which had ascended to receive them in answer to Archie’s
+signal, and now commenced to drop down silently and swiftly into the
+pitchy darkness. ‘It puts me in mind of Jules Verne’s romances.’
+
+Archie did not reply, for he was too much occupied in lighting his
+candle to answer, and, moreover, knew nothing about romances, and cared
+still less. So they went on sliding down noiselessly into the gloom,
+while the water, falling from all parts of the shaft, kept splashing
+constantly on the top of the cage and running in little streams over
+their shoulders.
+
+‘It’s like a nightmare,’ thought the Frenchman, with a nervous shudder,
+as he saw the wet walls gleaming in the faint light of the candle.
+‘Worthy of Dante’s “Inferno”.’
+
+At last they reached the ground, and found themselves in the main
+chamber, from whence the galleries branched off to east and west.
+
+It was upheld on all sides by heavy wooden supports of bluegum and
+stringy bark, the scarred surfaces of which made them look like the
+hieroglyphic pillars in old Egyptian temples. The walls were dripping
+with damp, and the floor of the chamber, though covered with iron
+plates, was nearly an inch deep with yellow-looking water, discoloured
+by the clay of the mine. Two miners in rough canvas clothes were
+waiting here, and every now and then a trolly laden with wash would roll
+suddenly out of one of the galleries with a candle fastened in front of
+it, and would be pushed into the cage and sent up to the puddlers. Round
+the walls candles fastened to spikes were stuck into the woodwork, and
+in their yellow glimmer the great drops of water clinging to the roof
+and sides of the chamber shone like diamonds.
+
+‘Aladdin’s garden,’ observed Vandeloup, gaily, as he lighted his candle
+at that of Archie’s and went towards the eastern gallery, ‘only the
+jewels are not substantial enough.’
+
+Archie showed the Frenchman how to carry his candle in the miner’s
+manner, so that it could not go out, which consisted in holding it low
+down between the forefinger and third finger, so that the hollow palm of
+the hand formed a kind of shield; and then Vandeloup, hearing the sound
+of falling water close to him, asked what it was, whereupon Archie
+explained it was for ventilating purposes. The water fell the whole
+height of the mine through a pipe into a bucket, and a few feet above
+this another pipe was joined at right angles to the first and stretched
+along the gallery near the roof like a never-ending serpent right to the
+end of the drive. The air was driven along this by the water, and then,
+being released from the pipe, returned back through the gallery, so that
+there was a constant current circulating all through the mine.
+
+As they groped their way slowly along, their feet splashed into pools
+of yellow clayey water at the sides of the drive, or stumbled over the
+rough ground and rugged rails laid down for the trollies. All along the
+gallery, at regular intervals, were posts of stringy bark in a vertical
+position, while beams of the same were laid horizontally across the top,
+but so low that Vandeloup had to stoop constantly to prevent himself
+knocking his head against their irregular projections.
+
+Clinging to these side posts were masses of white fungus, which the
+miners use to remove discolorations from their hands, and from the roof
+also it hung like great drifts of snow, agitated with every breath of
+wind as the keen air, damped and chilled by the underground darkness,
+rushed past them. Every now and then they would hear a faint rumble in
+the distance, and Archie would drag his companion to one side while a
+trolly laden with white, wet-looking wash, and impelled by a runner,
+would roll past with a roaring and grinding of wheels.
+
+At intervals on each side of the main drive black chasms appeared, which
+Archie informed his companion were drives put in to test the wash, and
+as these smaller galleries continued branching off, Vandeloup thought
+the whole mine resembled nothing so much as a herring-bone.
+
+Being accustomed to the darkness and knowing every inch of the way, the
+manager moved forward rapidly, and sometimes Vandeloup lagged so far
+behind that all he could see of his guide was the candle he carried,
+shining like a pale yellow star in the pitchy darkness. At last McIntosh
+went into one of the side galleries, and going up an iron ladder fixed
+to the side of the wall, they came to a second gallery thirty feet above
+the other, and branching off at right angles.
+
+This was where the wash was to be found, for, as Archie informed
+Vandeloup, the main drives of a mine were always put down thirty or
+forty feet below the wash, and then they could work up to the higher
+levels, the reason of this being that the leads had a downward tendency,
+and it was necessary for the main drive to be sunk below, as before
+mentioned, in order to get the proper levels and judge the gutters
+correctly. At the top of the ladder they found some empty trucks which
+had delivered their burden into a kind of shoot, through which it fell
+to the lower level, and there another truck was waiting to take it to
+the main shaft, from whence it went up to the puddlers.
+
+Archie made Vandeloup get into one of these trucks, and though they were
+all wet and covered with clay, he was glad to do so, and be smoothly
+carried along, instead of stumbling over the rails and splashing among
+the pools of water. Every now and then as they went along there would be
+a gush of water from the dripping walls, which was taken along in
+pipes to the main chamber, and from thence pumped out of the mine by a
+powerful pump, worked by a beam engine, by which means the mine was kept
+dry.
+
+At last, after they had gone some considerable distance, they saw the
+dim light of a candle, and heard the dull blows of a pick, then found
+themselves at the end of the drive, where a miner was working at the
+wash. The wash wherein the gold is found was exceedingly well defined,
+and represented a stratified appearance, being sandwiched in between a
+bed of white pipe-clay and a top layer of brownish earth, interspersed
+with gravel. Every blow of the pick sent forth showers of sparks in all
+directions, and as fast as the wash was broken down the runner filled up
+the trollies with it. After asking the miner about the character of the
+wash, and testing some himself in a shovel, Archie left the gallery,
+and going back to the shoot, they descended again to the main drive, and
+visited several other faces of wash, the journey in each instance being
+exactly the same in all respects. Each face had a man working at it,
+sometimes two, and a runner who loaded the trucks, and ran them along to
+the shoots. In spite of the ventilation, Vandeloup felt as if he was in
+a Turkish bath, and the heat was in some places very great. At the end
+of one of the drives McIntosh called Vandeloup, and on going towards
+him the young man found him seated on a truck with the plan of the
+mine before him, as he wanted to show him all the ramifications of the
+workings.
+
+The plan looked more like a map of a city than anything else, with
+the main drive doing duty as the principal street, and all the little
+galleries, branching off in endless confusion, looked like the lanes and
+alleys of a populous town.
+
+‘It’s like the catacombs in Rome,’ said Vandeloup to McIntosh, after
+he had contemplated the plan for some time; ‘one could easily get lost
+here.’
+
+‘He micht,’ returned McIntosh, cautiously, ‘if he didna ken a’ aboot
+the lie of the mine--o’er yonder,’ putting one finger on the plan
+and pointing with the other to the right of the tunnel; ‘we found a
+twenty-ounce nugget yesterday, and ain afore that o’ twenty-five, and
+in the first face we were at twa months ago o’er there,’ pointing to the
+left, ‘there was yin big ain I ca’d the Villiers nugget, which as ye ken
+is Madame’s name.’
+
+‘Oh, yes, I know that,’ said Vandeloup, much interested; ‘do you
+christen all your nuggets?’
+
+‘If they’re big enough,’ replied Archie.
+
+‘Then I hope you will find a hundred-ounce lump of gold, and call it the
+Vandeloup,’ returned the young man, laughing.
+
+‘There’s mony a true word spoke in jest, laddie,’ said Archie, gravely;
+‘when we get to the Deil’s Lead we may find ain o’ that size.’
+
+‘What do you mean by leads?’ asked Vandeloup, considerably puzzled.
+
+Thereupon Archie opened his mouth, and gave the young man a scientific
+lecture on mining, the pith of which was as follows:--
+
+‘Did ye no ken,’ said Mr McIntosh, sagaciously, ‘in the auld days--I
+winna say but what it micht be as far back as the Fa’ o’ Man, may be a
+wee bit farther--the rains washed a’ the gold fra the taps o’ the hills,
+where the quartz reefs were, down tae the valleys below, where the
+rivers ye ken were flowin’. And as the ages went on, an’ nature, under
+the guidance o’ the Almighty, performed her work, the river bed, wiv
+a’ its gold, would be covered o’er with anither formation, and then the
+river, or anither yin, would flow on a new bed, and the precious metal
+would be washed fra the hills in the same way as I tauld ye of, and the
+second river bed would be also covered o’er, and sae the same game went
+on and is still progressin’. Sae when the first miners came doon tae
+this land of Ophir the gold they got by scratchin’ the tap of the earth
+was the latest deposit, and when ye gae doon a few hundred feet ye come
+on the second river--or rather, I should say, the bed o’ the former
+river-and it is there that the gold is tae be found; and these dried-up
+rivers we ca’ leads. Noo, laddie, ye ma ken that at present we are in
+the bed o’ ain o’ these auld streams three hun’red feet frae the tap o’
+the earth, and it’s here we get the gold, and as we gae on we follow the
+wandrin’s o’ the river and lose sight o’ it.’
+
+‘Yes,’ said Vandeloup quickly, ‘but you lost this river you call the
+Devil’s Lead--how was that?’
+
+‘Weel,’ said Mr McIntosh, deliberately, ‘rivers are varra like human
+bein’s in the queer twists they take, and the Deil’s Lead seems to hae
+been ain like that. At present we are on the banks o’ it, where we noo
+get these nuggets; but ‘tis the bed I want, d’ye ken, the centre, for
+its there the gold is; losh, man,’ he went on, excitedly, rising to his
+feet and rolling up the plan, ‘ye dinna ken how rich the Deil’s Lead is;
+there’s just a fortune in it.’
+
+“I suppose these rivers must stop at a certain depth?”
+
+“Ou, ay,” returned the old Scotchman, “we gae doon an’ doon till we
+come on what we ma ca’ the primary rock, and under that there is
+nothin’--except,” with a touch of religious enthusiasm, “maybe ‘tis
+the bottomless pit, where auld Hornie dwells, as we are tauld in the
+Screepture; noo let us gae up again, an’ I’ll show ye the puddlers at
+wark.”
+
+Vandeloup had not the least idea what the puddlers were, but desirous of
+learning, he followed his guide, who led him into another gallery, which
+formed a kind of loop, and joined again with the main drive. As Gaston
+stumbled along, he felt a touch on his shoulder, and on turning, saw it
+was Pierre, who had been put to work with the other men, and was acting
+as one of the runners.
+
+“Ah! you are there, my friend,” said Vandeloup, coolly, looking at the
+uncouth figure before him by the feeble glimmer of his candle; “work
+away, work away; it’s not very pleasant, but at all events,” in a rapid
+whisper, “it’s better than New Caledonia.”
+
+Pierre nodded in a sullen manner, and went back to his work, while
+Vandeloup hurried on to catch up to McIntosh, who was now far ahead.
+
+“I wish,” said this pleasant young man to himself, as he stumbled along,
+“I wish that the mine would fall in and crush Pierre; he’s such a dead
+weight to be hanging round my neck; besides, he has such a gaol-bird
+look about him that it’s enough to make the police find out where he
+came from; if they do, good-bye to wealth and respectability.”
+
+He found Archie waiting for him at the entrance to the main drive, and
+they soon arrived at the bottom of the shaft, got into the cage, and at
+last reached the top of the earth again. Vandeloup drew a long breath of
+the fresh pure air, but his eyes felt quite painful in the vivid glare
+of the sun.
+
+“I don’t envy the gnomes,” he said gaily to Archie as they went on to
+the puddlers; “they must have been subject to chronic rheumatism.”
+
+Mr McIntosh, not having an acquaintance with fairy lore, said nothing in
+reply, but took Vandeloup to the puddlers, and showed all the process of
+getting the gold.
+
+The wash was carried along in the trucks from the top of the shaft
+to the puddlers, which were large circular vats into which water was
+constantly gushing. The wash dirt being put into these, there was an
+iron ring held up by chains, having blunt spikes to it, which was called
+a harrow. Two of these being attached to beams laid crosswise were
+dragged round and round among the wash by the constant revolution of
+the cross-pieces. This soon reduced all the wash dirt to a kind of fine,
+creamy-looking syrup, with heavy white stones in it, which were removed
+every now and then by the man in charge of the machine. Descending to
+the second story of the framework, Vandeloup found himself in a
+square chamber, the roof of which was the puddler. In this roof was
+a trap-door, and when the wash dirt had been sufficiently mixed the
+trap-door was opened, and it was precipitated through on to the floor
+of the second chamber. A kind of broad trough, running in a slanting
+direction and called a sluice, was on one side, and into this a quantity
+of wash was put, and a tap at the top turned on, which caused the
+water to wash the dirt down the sluice. Another man at the foot, with
+a pitchfork, kept shifting up the stones which were mixed up with the
+gravel, and by degrees all the surplus dirt was washed away, leaving
+only these stones and a kind of fine black sand, in which the gold being
+heavy, had stayed. This sand was carefully gathered up with a brush
+and iron trowel into a shallow tin basin, and then an experienced miner
+carefully manipulated the same with clear water. What with blowing with
+the breath, and allowing the water to flow gently over it, all the
+black sand was soon taken away, and the bottom of the tin dish was
+then covered with dirty yellow grains of gold interspersed with little
+water-worn nuggets. Archie took the gold and carried it down to the
+office, where it was first weighed and then put into a little canvas
+bag, which would be taken to the bank in Ballarat, and there sold at the
+rate of four pounds an ounce or thereabouts.
+
+‘Sae this, ye ken,’ said Archie, when he had finished all his
+explanations, ‘is the way ye get gold.’
+
+‘My faith,’ said Vandeloup, carelessly, with a merry laugh, ‘gold is as
+hard to get in its natural state as in its artificial.’
+
+“An’ harder,” retorted Archie, “forbye there’s nae sic wicked wark aboot
+it.”
+
+“Madame will be rich some day,” remarked Vandeloup, as they left the
+office and walked up towards the house.
+
+“Maybe she will,” replied the other, cautiously. “Australia’s a gran’
+place for the siller, ye ken. I’m no verra far wrang but what wi’
+industry and perseverance ye may mak a wee bit siller yersel’, laddie.”
+
+“It won’t be my fault if I don’t,” returned M. Vandeloup, gaily; “and
+Madame Midas,” he added, mentally, “will be an excellent person to
+assist me in doing so.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+KITTY
+
+
+Gaston Vandeloup having passed all his life in cities found that his
+existence on the Pactolus claim was likely to be very dreary. Day after
+day he arose in the morning, did his office work, ate his meals,
+and after a talk with Madame Midas in the evening went to bed at ten
+o’clock. Such Arcadian simplicity as this was not likely to suit the
+highly cultivated tastes he had acquired in his earlier life. As to the
+episode of New Caledonia M. Vandeloup dismissed it completely from
+his mind, for this young man never permitted his thoughts to dwell on
+disagreeable subjects.
+
+His experiences as a convict had been novel but not pleasant, and he
+looked upon the time which had elapsed since he left France in the
+convict ship to the day he landed on the coast of Queensland in an open
+boat as a bad nightmare, and would willingly have tried to treat it as
+such, only the constant sight of his dumb companion, Pierre Lemaire,
+reminded him only too vividly of the reality of his trouble. Often and
+often did he wish that Pierre would break his neck, or that the mine
+would fall in and crush him to death; but nothing of the sort happened,
+and Pierre continued to vex his eyes and to follow him about with a
+dog-like fidelity which arose--not from any love of the young man,
+but--from the fact that he found himself a stranger in a strange land,
+and Vandeloup was the only person he knew. With such a millstone round
+his neck, the young Frenchman often despaired of being able to get on in
+Australia. Meanwhile he surrendered himself to the situation with a kind
+of cynical resignation, and looked hopefully forward to the time when a
+kind Providence would rid him of his unpleasant friend.
+
+The feelings of Madame Midas towards Vandeloup were curious. She had
+been a very impressionable girl, and her ill-fated union with Villiers
+had not quite succeeded in deadening all her feelings, though it had
+doubtless gone a good way towards doing so. Being of an appreciative
+nature, she liked to hear Vandeloup talk of his brilliant life in Paris,
+Vienna, London, and other famous cities, which to her were merely names.
+For such a young man he had certainly seen a great deal of life, and,
+added to this, his skill as a talker was considerable, so that he
+frequently held Madame, Selina, and McIntosh spell-bound by his
+fairy-like descriptions and eloquent conversation. Of course, he only
+talked of the most general subjects to Mrs Villiers, and never by any
+chance let slip that he knew the seamy side of life--a side with which
+this versatile young gentleman was pretty well acquainted. As a worker,
+Gaston was decidedly a success. Being quick at figures and easily taught
+anything, he soon mastered all the details of the business connected
+with the Pactolus claim, and Madame found that she could leave
+everything to him with perfect safety, and could rely on all matters of
+business being well and promptly attended to. But she was too clever
+a woman to let him manage things himself, or even know how much she
+trusted him; and Vandeloup knew that whatever he did those calm dark
+eyes were on him, and that the least slip or neglect on his part would
+bring Madame Midas to his side with her quiet voice and inflexible will
+to put him right again.
+
+Consequently the Frenchman was careful not to digress or to take too
+much upon himself, but did his work promptly and carefully, and soon
+became quite indispensable to the work of the mine. In addition to this
+he had made himself very popular with the men, and as the months rolled
+on was looked upon quite as a fixture in the Pactolus claim.
+
+As for Pierre Lemaire, he did his work well, ate and slept, and kept his
+eye on his companion in case he should leave him in the lurch; but no
+one would have guessed that the two men, so different in appearance,
+were bound together by a guilty secret, or were, morally speaking, both
+on the same level as convicts from a French prison.
+
+A whole month had elapsed since Madame had engaged M. Vandeloup and his
+friend, but as yet the Devil’s Lead had not been found. Madame, however,
+was strong in her belief that it would soon be discovered, for her
+luck--the luck of Madame Midas--was getting quite a proverb in Ballarat.
+
+One bright morning Vandeloup was in the office running up endless
+columns of figures, and Madame, dressed in her underground garments, was
+making ready to go below, just having stepped in to see Gaston.
+
+‘By the way, M. Vandeloup,’ she said in English, for it was only in the
+evenings they spoke French, ‘I am expecting a young lady this morning,
+so you can tell her I have gone down the mine, but will be back in an
+hour if she will wait for me.’
+
+‘Certainly, Madame,’ said Vandeloup, looking up with his bright smile;
+‘and the young lady’s name?’
+
+‘Kitty Marchurst,’ replied Madame, pausing a moment at the door of the
+office; ‘she is the daughter of the Rev. Mark Marchurst, a minister at
+Ballarat. I think you will like her, M. Vandeloup,’ she went on, in
+a conversational tone; ‘she is a charming girl--only seventeen, and
+extremely pretty.’
+
+‘Then I am sure to like her,’ returned Gaston, gaily; ‘I never could
+resist the charm of a pretty woman.’
+
+‘Mind,’ said Madame, severely, holding up her finger, ‘you must not turn
+my favourite’s head with any of your idle compliments; she has been very
+strictly brought up, and the language of gallantry is Greek to her.’
+
+Vandeloup tried to look penitent, and failed utterly.
+
+‘Madame,’ he said, rising from his seat, and gravely bowing, ‘I will
+speak of nothing to Mademoiselle Kitty but of the weather and the crops
+till you return.’
+
+Madame laughed pleasantly.
+
+‘You are incorrigible, M. Vandeloup,’ she said, as she turned to go.
+‘However, don’t forget what I said, for I trust you.’
+
+When Mrs Villiers had gone, closing the office door after her, Gaston
+was silent for a few minutes, and then burst out laughing.
+
+‘She trusts me,’ he said, in a mocking tone. ‘In heaven’s name, why? I
+never did pretend to be a saint, and I’m certainly not going to be one
+because I’m put on my word of honour. Madame,’ with an ironical bow in
+the direction of the closed door, ‘since you trust me I will not speak
+of love to this bread-and-butter miss, unless she proves more than
+ordinarily pretty, in which case,’ shrugging his shoulders, ‘I’m afraid
+I must betray your trust, and follow my own judgment.’
+
+He laughed again, and then, going back to his desk, began to add up
+his figures. At the second column, however, he paused, and commenced to
+sketch faces on the blotting paper.
+
+‘She’s the daughter of a minister,’ he said, musingly. ‘I can guess,
+then, what like she is--prim and demure, like a caricature by Cham.
+In that case she will be safe from me, for I could never bear an ugly
+woman. By the way, I wonder if ugly women think themselves pretty; their
+mirrors must lie most obligingly if they do. There was Adele, she was
+decidedly plain, not to say ugly, and yet so brilliant in her talk. I
+was sorry she died; yes, even though she was the cause of my exile to
+New Caledonia. Bah! it is always a woman one has to thank for one’s
+misfortunes--curse them; though why I should I don’t know, for they
+have always been good friends to me. Ah, well, to return to business,
+Mademoiselle Kitty is coming, and I must behave like a bear in case she
+should think my intentions are wrong.’
+
+He went to work on the figures again, when suddenly he heard a high
+clear voice singing outside. At first he thought it was a bird, but
+no bird could execute such trills and shakes, so by the time the voice
+arrived at the office door M. Vandeloup came to the conclusion that
+the owner of the voice was a woman, and that the woman was Miss Kitty
+Marchurst.
+
+He leaned back in his chair and wondered idly if she would knock at the
+door or enter without ceremony. The latter course was the one adopted by
+Miss Marchurst, for she threw open the door and stood there blushing and
+pouting at the embarrassing situation in which she now found herself.
+
+‘I thought I would find Mrs Villiers here,’ she said, in a low, sweet
+voice, the peculiar timbre of which sent a thrill through Gaston’s young
+blood, as he arose to his feet. Then she looked up, and catching his
+dark eyes fixed on her with a good deal of admiration in them, she
+looked down and commenced drawing figures on the dusty floor with the
+tip of a very dainty shoe.
+
+‘Madame has gone down the mine,’ said M. Vandeloup, politely, ‘but she
+desired me to say that she would be back soon, and that you were to wait
+here, and I was to entertain you;’ then, with a grave bow, he placed the
+only chair in the office at the disposal of his visitor, and leaned
+up against the mantelpiece in an attitude of unstudied grace. Miss
+Marchurst accepted his offer, and depositing her small person in the
+big cane chair, she took furtive glances at him, while Gaston, whose
+experience of women was by no means limited, looked at her coolly, in
+a manner which would have been rude but for the charming smile which
+quivered upon his lips.
+
+Kitty Marchurst was a veritable fairy in size, and her hands and feet
+were exquisitely formed, while her figure had all the plumpness and
+roundness of a girl of seventeen--which age she was, though she really
+did not look more than fourteen. An innocent child-like face, two limpid
+blue eyes, a straight little nose, and a charming rose-lipped mouth
+were Kitty’s principal attractions, and her hair was really wonderful,
+growing all over her head in crisp golden curls. Child-like enough her
+face looked in repose, but with the smile came the woman--such a smile,
+a laughing merry expression such as the Greeks gave to Hebe. Dressed in
+a rough white dress trimmed with pale blue ribbons, and her golden head
+surmounted by a sailor hat, with a scarf of the same azure hue tied
+around it, Kitty looked really charming, and Vandeloup could hardly
+restrain himself from taking her up in his arms and kissing her, so
+delightfully fresh and piquant she appeared. Kitty, on her side, had
+examined Gaston with a woman’s quickness of taking in details, and she
+mentally decided he was the best-looking man she had ever seen, only
+she wished he would talk. Shyness was not a part of her nature, so after
+waiting a reasonable time for Vandeloup to commence, she determined to
+start herself.
+
+‘I’m waiting to be entertained,’ she said, in a hurried voice, raising
+her eyes; then afraid of her own temerity, she looked down again.
+
+Gaston smiled a little at Kitty’s outspoken remark, but remembering
+Madame’s injunction he rather mischievously determined to carry out her
+desires to the letter.
+
+‘It is a very nice day,’ he said, gravely. Kitty looked up and laughed
+merrily.
+
+‘I don’t think that’s a very original remark,’ she said coolly,
+producing an apple from her pocket. ‘If that’s all you’ve got to say, I
+hope Madame won’t be long.’
+
+Vandeloup laughed again at her petulance, and eyed her critically as she
+took a bit out of the red side of the apple with her white teeth.
+
+‘You like apples?’ he asked, very much amused by her candour.
+
+‘Pretty well,’ returned Miss Marchurst, eyeing the fruit in a
+disparaging manner; ‘peaches are nicer; are Madame’s peaches ripe?’
+looking anxiously at him.
+
+‘I think they are,’ rejoined Gaston, gravely.
+
+‘Then we’ll have some for tea,’ decided Kitty, taking another bite out
+of her apple.
+
+‘I’m going to stay to tea, you know,’ she went on in a conversational
+tone. ‘I always stay to tea when I’m on a visit here, and then
+Brown--that’s our man,’ in an explanatory manner, ‘comes and fetches me
+home.’
+
+‘Happy Brown!’ murmured Vandeloup, who really meant what he said.
+
+Kitty laughed, and blushed.
+
+‘I’ve heard all about you,’ she said, coolly, nodding to him.
+
+‘Nothing to my disadvantage, I hope,’ anxiously.
+
+‘Oh dear, no: rather the other way,’ returned Miss Marchurst, gaily.
+‘They said you were good-looking--and so you are, very good-looking.’
+
+Gaston bowed and laughed, rather amused at the way she spoke, for he was
+used to being flattered by women, though hardly in the outspoken way of
+this country maiden.
+
+‘She’s been strictly brought up,’ he muttered sarcastically, ‘I can see
+that. Eve before the fall in all her innocence.’
+
+‘I don’t like your eyes,’ said Miss Kitty, suddenly.
+
+‘What’s the matter with them?’ with a quizzical glance.
+
+‘They look wicked.’
+
+‘Ah, then they belie the soul within,’ returned Vandeloup, seriously. ‘I
+assure you, I’m a very good young man.’
+
+Then I’m sure not to like you,’ said Kitty, gravely shaking her golden
+head. ‘Pa’s a minister, you know, and nothing but good young men come to
+our house; they’re all so horrid,’ viciously, ‘I hate ‘em.’
+
+Vandeloup laughed so much at this that Kitty rose to her feet and looked
+offended.
+
+‘I don’t know what you are laughing at,’ she said, throwing her
+half-eaten apple out of the door; ‘but I don’t believe you’re a good
+young man. You look awfully bad,’ seriously. ‘Really, I don’t think I
+ever saw anyone look so bad.’
+
+‘Suppose you undertake my reformation?’ suggested Vandeloup, eagerly.
+
+‘Oh! I couldn’t; it wouldn’t be right; but,’ brightly, ‘pa will.’
+
+‘I don’t think I’ll trouble him,’ said Gaston, hastily, who by no means
+relished the idea. ‘I’m too far gone to be any good.’
+
+She was about to reply when Madame Midas entered, and Kitty flew to her
+with a cry of delight.
+
+‘Why, Kitty,’ said Madame, highly pleased, ‘I am so glad to see you, my
+dear; but keep off, or I’ll be spoiling your dress.’
+
+‘Yes, so you will,’ said Kitty, retreating to a safe distance; ‘what a
+long time you have been.’
+
+‘Have I, dear?’ said Madame, taking off her underground dress; ‘I hope
+M. Vandeloup has proved a good substitute.’
+
+‘Madame,’ answered Vandeloup, gaily, as he assisted Mrs Villiers to
+doff her muddy garments, ‘we have been talking about the crops and the
+weather.’
+
+‘Oh, indeed,’ replied Mrs Villiers, who saw the flush on Kitty’s cheek,
+and by no means approved of it; ‘it must have been very entertaining.’
+
+‘Very!’ assented Gaston, going back to his desk.
+
+‘Come along, Kitty,’ said Madame, with a keen glance at her clerk, and
+taking Kitty’s arm within her own, ‘let us go to the house, and see if
+we can find any peaches.’
+
+‘I hope we’ll find some big ones,’ said Kitty, gluttonously, as she
+danced along by the side of Mrs Villiers.
+
+‘Temptation has been placed in my path in a very attractive form,’
+said Vandeloup to himself, as he went back to those dreary columns of
+figures, ‘and I’m afraid that I will not be able to resist.’
+
+When he came home to tea he found Kitty was as joyous and full of life
+as ever, in spite of the long hot afternoon and the restless energy with
+which she had been running about. Even Madame Midas felt weary and worn
+out by the heat of the day, and was sitting tranquilly by the window;
+but Kitty, with bright eyes and restless feet, followed Selina all over
+the house, under the pretence of helping her, an infliction which that
+sage spinster bore with patient resignation.
+
+After tea it was too hot to light the lamp, and even Selina let the fire
+go out, while all the windows and doors were open to let the cool
+night wind blow in. Vandeloup sat on the verandah with McIntosh smoking
+cigarettes and listening to Madame, who was playing Mendelssohn’s ‘In a
+Gondola’, that dreamy melody full of the swing and rhythmic movement of
+the waves. Then to please old Archie she played ‘Auld Lang
+Syne’--that tender caressing air which is one of the most pathetic and
+heart-stirring melodies in the world. Archie leaned forward with bowed
+head as the sad melody floated on the air, and his thoughts went back
+to the heather-clad Scottish hills. And what was this Madame was now
+playing, with its piercing sorrow and sad refrain? Surely ‘Farewell to
+Lochaber’, that bitter lament of the exile leaving bonny Scotland far
+behind. Vandeloup, who was not attending to the music, but thinking
+of Kitty, saw two big tears steal down McIntosh’s severe face, and
+marvelled at such a sign of weakness.
+
+‘Sentiment from him?’ he muttered, in a cynical tone; ‘why, I should
+have as soon expected blood from a stone.’
+
+Suddenly the sad air ceased, and after a few chords, Kitty commenced to
+sing to Madame’s accompaniment. Gaston arose to his feet, and leaned
+up against the door, for she was singing Gounod’s charming valse from
+‘Mirella’, the bird-like melody of which suited her high clear voice
+to perfection. Vandeloup was rather astonished at hearing this innocent
+little maiden execute the difficult valse with such ease, and her shake
+was as rapid and true as if she had been trained in the best schools of
+Europe. He did not know that Kitty had naturally a very flexible voice,
+and that Madame had trained her for nearly a year. When the song was
+ended Gaston entered the room to express his thanks and astonishment,
+both of which Kitty received with bursts of laughter.
+
+‘You have a fortune in your throat, mademoiselle,’ he said, with a bow,
+‘and I assure you I have heard all the great singers of to-day from
+Patti downwards.’
+
+‘I have only been able to teach her very little,’ said Madame, looking
+affectionately at Miss Marchurst, who now stood by the table, blushing
+at Vandeloup’s praises, ‘but when we find the Devil’s Lead I am going to
+send her home to Italy to study singing.’
+
+‘For the stage?’ asked Vandeloup.
+
+‘That is as it may be,’ replied Madame, enigmatically, ‘but now, M.
+Vandeloup, you must sing us something.’
+
+‘Oh, does he sing?’ said Kitty, joyously.
+
+‘Yes, and play too,’ answered Madame, as she vacated her seat at the
+piano and put her arm round Kitty, ‘sing us something from the “Grand
+Duchess”, Monsieur.’
+
+He shook his head.
+
+‘Too gay for such an hour,’ he said, running his fingers lightly over
+the keys; ‘I will give you something from “Faust”.’
+
+He had a pleasant tenor voice, not very strong, but singularly pure and
+penetrating, and he sang ‘Salve Dinora’, the exquisite melody of which
+touched the heart of Madame Midas with a vague longing for love and
+affection, while in Kitty’s breast there was a feeling she had never
+felt before. Her joyousness departed, her eyes glanced at the singer in
+a half-frightened manner, and she clung closer to Madame Midas as if she
+were afraid, as indeed she was.
+
+When Vandeloup finished the song he dashed into a riotous student song
+which he had heard many a time in midnight Paris, and finally ended
+with singing Alfred de Musset’s merry little chanson, which he thought
+especially appropriate to Kitty:--
+
+Bonjour, Suzon, ma fleur des bois, Es-tu toujours la plus jolie, Je
+reviens, tel que tu me vois,
+
+D’un grand votage en Italie.
+
+Altogether Kitty had enjoyed her evening immensely, and was quite sorry
+when Brown came to take her home. Madame wrapped her up well and put her
+in the buggy, but was rather startled to see her flushed cheeks, bright
+eyes, and the sudden glances she stole at Vandeloup, who stood handsome
+and debonair in the moonlight.
+
+‘I’m afraid I’ve made a mistake,’ she said to herself as the buggy drove
+off.
+
+She had, for Kitty had fallen in love with the Frenchman.
+
+And Gaston?
+
+He walked back to the house beside Madame, thinking of Kitty, and
+humming the gay refrain of the song he had been singing--
+
+‘Je passe devant ta maison Ouvre ta porte, Bonjour, Suzon.’
+
+Decidedly it was a case of love at first sight on both sides.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+MR VILLIERS PAYS A VISIT
+
+
+Slivers and his friend Villiers were by no means pleased with the
+existing state of things. In sending Vandeloup to the Pactolus claim,
+they had thought to compromise Madame Midas by placing her in the
+society of a young and handsome man, and counting on one of two things
+happening--either that Madame would fall in love with the attractive
+Frenchman, and seek for a divorce in order to marry him--which divorce
+Villiers would of course resist, unless she bribed him by giving him an
+interest in the Pactolus--or that Villiers could assume an injured tone
+and accuse Vandeloup of being his wife’s lover, and threaten to divorce
+her unless she made him her partner in the claim. But they had both
+reckoned wrongly, for neither of these things happened, as Madame was
+not in love with Vandeloup, and acted with too much circumspection to
+give any opportunity for scandal. Consequently, Slivers and Co., not
+finding matters going to their satisfaction, met one day at the office
+of the senior partner for the purpose of discussing the affair, and
+seeing what could be done towards bringing Madame Midas to their way of
+thinking.
+
+Villiers was lounging in one of the chairs, dressed in a white linen
+suit, and looked rather respectable, though his inflamed face and watery
+eyes showed what a drunkard he was. He was sipping a glass of whisky
+and water and smoking his pipe, while he watched Slivers stumping up and
+down the office, swinging his cork arm vehemently to and fro as was his
+custom when excited. Billy sat on the table and eyed his master with a
+steady stare, or else hopped about among the papers talking to himself.
+
+‘You thought you were going to do big things when you sent that
+jackadandy out to the Pactolus,’ said Villiers, after a pause.
+
+‘At any rate, I did something,’ snarled Slivers, in a rage, ‘which is
+more than you did, you whisky barrel.’
+
+‘Look here, don’t you call names,’ growled Mr Villiers, in a sulky tone.
+‘I’m a gentleman, remember that.’
+
+‘You were a gentleman, you mean,’ corrected the senior partner, with a
+malignant glance of his one eye. ‘What are you now?’
+
+‘A stockbroker,’ retorted the other, taking a sip of whisky.
+
+‘And a damned poor one at that,’ replied the other, sitting on the edge
+of the table, which position caused his wooden leg to stick straight
+out, a result which he immediately utilized by pointing it threateningly
+in the direction of Villiers.
+
+‘Look here,’ said that gentleman, suddenly sitting up in his chair in a
+defiant manner, ‘drop these personalities and come to business; what’s
+to be done? Vandeloup is firmly established there, but there’s not the
+slightest chance of my wife falling in love with him.’
+
+‘Wait,’ said Slivers, stolidly wagging his wooden leg up and down;
+‘wait, you blind fool, wait.’
+
+‘Wait for the waggon!’ shrieked Billy, behind, and then supplemented
+his remarks by adding, ‘Oh, my precious mother!’ as he climbed up on
+Slivers’ shoulder.
+
+‘You always say wait,’ growled Villiers, not paying any attention to
+Billy’s interruption; ‘I tell you we can’t wait much longer; they’ll
+drop on the Devil’s Lead shortly, and then we’ll be up a tree.’
+
+‘Then, suppose you go out to the Pactolus and see your wife,’ suggested
+Slivers.
+
+‘No go,’ returned Villiers, gloomily, ‘she’d break my head.’
+
+‘Bah! you ain’t afraid of a woman, are you?’ snarled Slivers, viciously.
+
+‘No, but I am of McIntosh and the rest of them,’ retorted Villiers.
+‘What can one man do against twenty of these devils. Why, they’d kill me
+if I went out there; and that infernal wife of mine wouldn’t raise her
+little finger to save me.’
+
+‘You’re a devil!’ observed Billy, eyeing Villiers from his perch on
+Slivers’ shoulder. ‘Oh, Lord! ha! ha! ha!’ going into fits of laughter;
+then drawing himself suddenly up, he ejaculated ‘Pickles!’ and shut up.
+
+‘It’s no good beating about the bush,’ said the wooden-legged man,
+getting down from the table. ‘You go out near the claim, and see if you
+can catch her; then give it to her hot.’
+
+‘What am I to say?’ asked Villiers, helplessly.
+
+Slivers looked at him with fiery scorn in his one eye.
+
+‘Say!’ he shrieked, waving his cork arm, ‘talk about your darned honour!
+Say she’s dragging your noble name through the mud, and say you’ll
+divorce her if she don’t give you half a share in the Pactolus; that
+will frighten her.’
+
+‘Pickles!’ again ejaculated the parrot.
+
+‘Oh, no, it won’t,’ said Villiers; ‘Brag’s a good dog, but he don’t
+bite. I’ve tried that game on before, and it was no go.’
+
+‘Then try it your own way,’ grumbled Slivers, sulkily, going to his seat
+and pouring himself out some whisky. ‘I don’t care what you do, as long
+as I get into the Pactolus, and once I’m in the devil himself won’t get
+me out.’
+
+Villiers thought a moment, then turned to go.
+
+‘I’ll try,’ he said, as he went out of the door, ‘but it’s no go, I tell
+you, she’s stone,’ and with a dismal nod he slouched away.
+
+‘Stone, is she?’ cried the old man, pounding furiously on the floor with
+his wooden leg, ‘then I’d smash her; I’d crush her; I’d grind her into
+little bits, damn her,’ and overcome by his rage, Slivers shook Billy
+off his shoulder and took a long drink.
+
+Meanwhile Mr Villiers, dreading lest his courage should give way, went
+to the nearest hotel and drank pretty freely so that he might bring
+himself into an abnormal condition of bravery. Thus primed, he went
+to the railway station, took the train to the Pactolus claim, and on
+arriving at the end of his journey had one final glass of whisky to
+steady his nerves.
+
+The last straw, however, breaks the camel’s back, and this last drink
+reduced Mr Villiers to that mixed state which is known in colonial
+phrase as half-cocked. He lurched out of the hotel, and went in the
+direction of the Pactolus claim. His only difficulty was that, as a
+matter of fact, the solitary mound of white earth which marked the
+entrance to the mine, suddenly appeared before his eyes in a double
+condition, and he beheld two Pactolus claims, which curious optical
+delusion rather confused him, inasmuch as he was undecided to which he
+should go.
+
+‘Itsh the drinksh,’ he said at length, stopping in the middle of the
+white dusty road, and looking preternaturally solemn; ‘it maksh me see
+double: if I see my wife, I’ll see two of her, then’--with a drunken
+giggle--‘I’ll be a bigamist.’
+
+This idea so tickled him, that he commenced to laugh, and, finding it
+inconvenient to do so on his legs, he sat down to indulge his humour
+freely. A laughing jackass perched on the fence at the side of the road
+heard Mr Villiers’ hilarity, and, being of a convivial turn of mind
+itself, went off into fits of laughter also. On hearing this echo Mr
+Villiers tried to get up, in order to punish the man who mocked him,
+but, though his intentions were good, his legs were unsteady, and after
+one or two ineffectual attempts to rise he gave it up as a bad job. Then
+rolling himself a little to one side of the dusty white road, he went
+sound asleep, with his head resting on a tuft of green grass. In his
+white linen suit he was hardly distinguishable in the fine white dust of
+the road, and though the sun blazed hotly down on him and the mosquitos
+stung him, yet he slept calmly on, and it was not till nearly four
+o’clock in the afternoon that he woke up. He was more sober, but still
+not quite steady, being in that disagreeable temper to which some men
+are subject when suffering a recovery. Rising to his feet, with a hearty
+curse, he picked up his hat and put it on; then, thrusting his hands
+into his pockets, he slouched slowly along, bent upon meeting his wife
+and picking a quarrel with her.
+
+Unluckily for Madame Midas, she had that day been to Ballarat, and was
+just returning. She had gone by train, and was now leaving the station
+and walking home to the Pactolus along the road. Being absorbed in
+thought, she did not notice the dusty figure in front of her, otherwise
+she would have been sure to have recognised her husband, and would have
+given him a wide berth by crossing the fields instead of going by the
+road. Mr Villiers, therefore, tramped steadily on towards the Pactolus,
+and his wife tramped steadily after him, until at last, at the turn of
+the road where it entered her property, she overtook him.
+
+A shudder of disgust passed through her frame as she raised her eyes and
+saw him, and she made a sudden gesture as though to fall behind and
+thus avoid him. It was, however, too late, for Mr Villiers, hearing
+footsteps, turned suddenly and saw the woman he had come to see standing
+in the middle of the road.
+
+Husband and wife stood gazing at one another for a few moments in
+silence, she looking at him with an expression of intense loathing on
+her fine face, and he vainly trying to assume a dignified carriage--a
+task which his late fit of drunkenness rendered difficult.
+
+At last, his wife, drawing her dress together as though his touch would
+have contaminated her, tried to pass, but on seeing this he sprang
+forward, before she could change her position, and caught her wrist.
+
+‘Not yet!’ he hissed through his clenched teeth; ‘first you must have a
+word with me.’
+
+Madame Midas looked around for aid, but no one was in sight. They were
+some distance from the Pactolus, and the heat of the afternoon being
+intense, every one was inside. At last Madame saw some man moving
+towards them, down the long road which led to the station, and knowing
+that Vandeloup had been into town, she prayed in her heart that it might
+be he, and so prepared to parley with her husband till he should come
+up. Having taken this resolution, she suddenly threw off Villiers’
+grasp, and turned towards him with a superb gesture of scorn.
+
+‘What do you want?’ she asked in a low, clear voice, but in a tone of
+concentrated passion.
+
+‘Money!’ growled Villiers, insolently planting himself directly in front
+of her, ‘and I’m going to have it.’
+
+‘Money!’ she echoed, in a tone of bitter irony; ‘have you not had enough
+yet? Have you not squandered every penny I had from my father in your
+profligacy and evil companions? What more do you want?’
+
+‘A share in the Pactolus,’ he said, sullenly.
+
+His wife laughed scornfully. ‘A share in the Pactolus!’ she echoed, with
+bitter sarcasm, ‘A modest request truly. After squandering my fortune,
+dragging me through the mire, and treating me like a slave, this man
+expects to be rewarded. Listen to me, Randolph Villiers,’ she said,
+fiercely, stepping up to him and seizing his hand, ‘this land we now
+stand on is mine--the gold underneath is mine; and if you were to go
+on your knees to me and beg for a morsel of bread to save you from
+starving, I would not lift one finger to succour you.’
+
+Villiers writhed like a snake under her bitter scorn.
+
+‘I understand,’ he said, in a taunting tone; ‘you want it for your
+lover.’
+
+‘My lover? What do you mean?’
+
+‘What I say,’ he retorted boldly, ‘all Ballarat knows the position that
+young Frenchman holds in the Pactolus claim.’
+
+Mrs Villiers felt herself grow faint--the accusation was so horrible.
+This man, who had embittered her life from the time she married him,
+was still her evil genius, and was trying to ruin her in the eyes of the
+world. The man she had seen on the road was now nearly up to them, and
+with a revulsion of feeling she saw that it was Vandeloup. Recovering
+herself with an effort, she turned and faced him steadily.
+
+‘You lied when you spoke just now,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘I will
+not lower myself to reply to your accusation; but, as there is a God
+above us, if you dare to cross my path again, I will kill you.’
+
+She looked so terrible when she said this that Villiers involuntarily
+drew back, but recovering himself in a moment, he sprang forward and
+caught her arm.
+
+‘You devil! I’ll make you pay for this,’ and he twisted her arm till
+she thought it was broken. ‘You’ll kill me, will you?--you!--you!’ he
+shrieked, still twisting her arm and causing her intense pain, ‘you
+viper!’
+
+Suddenly, when Madame was almost fainting with pain, she heard a shout,
+and knew that Vandeloup had come to the rescue. He had recognised Madame
+Midas down the road, and saw that her companion was threatening her; so
+he made all possible speed, and arrived just in time.
+
+Madame turned round to see Vandeloup throw her husband into a ditch by
+the side of the road, and walk towards her. He was not at all excited,
+but seemed as cool and calm as if he had just been shaking hands with Mr
+Villiers instead of treating him violently.
+
+‘You had better go home, Madame,’ he said, in his usual cool voice, ‘and
+leave me to deal with this--gentleman; you are not hurt?’
+
+‘Only my arm,’ replied Mrs Villiers, in a faint voice; ‘he nearly broke
+it. But I can walk home alone.’
+
+‘If you can, do so,’ said Vandeloup, with a doubtful look at her. ‘I
+will send him away.’
+
+‘Don’t let him hurt you.’
+
+‘I don’t think there’s much danger,’ replied the young man, with a
+glance at his arms, ‘I’m stronger than I look.’
+
+‘Thank you, Monsieur,’ said Madame Midas, giving him her hand; ‘you have
+rendered me a great service, and one I will not forget.’
+
+He bent down and kissed her hand, which action was seen by Mr Villiers
+as he crawled out of the ditch. When Madame Midas was gone and Vandeloup
+could see her walking homeward, he turned to look for Mr Villiers, and
+found him seated on the edge of the ditch, all covered with mud and
+streaming with water--presenting a most pitiable appearance. He regarded
+M. Vandeloup in a most malignant manner, which, however, had no effect
+on that young gentleman, who produced a cigarette, and having lighted it
+proceeded to talk.
+
+‘I’m sorry I can’t offer you one,’ said Gaston, affably, ‘but I hardly
+think you would enjoy it in your present damp condition. If I might
+be permitted to suggest anything,’ with a polite smile, ‘a bath and a
+change of clothes would be most suitable to you, and you will find
+both at Ballarat. I also think,’ said Vandeloup, with an air of one who
+thinks deeply, ‘that if you hurry you will catch the next train, which
+will save you a rather long walk.’
+
+Mr Villiers glared at his tormentor in speechless anger, and tried to
+look dignified, but, covered as he was with mud, his effort was not
+successful.
+
+‘Do you know who I am?’ he said at length, in a blustering manner.
+
+‘Under some circumstances,’ said M. Vandeloup, in a smooth voice, ‘I
+should have taken you for a mud bank, but as you both speak and smile
+I presume you are a man of the lowest type; as you English yourselves
+say--a blackguard.’
+
+‘I’ll smash you!’ growled Villiers, stepping forward.
+
+‘I wouldn’t try if I were you,’ retorted Vandeloup, with a disparaging
+glance. ‘I am young and strong, almost a total abstainer; you, on the
+contrary, are old and flabby, with the shaking nerves of an incurable
+drunkard. No, it would be hardly fair for me to touch you.’
+
+‘You dare not lay a finger on me,’ said Villiers, defiantly.
+
+‘Quite right,’ replied Vandeloup, lighting another cigarette, ‘you’re
+rather too dirty for close companionship. I really think you’d better
+go; Monsieur Sleeves no doubt expects you.’
+
+‘And this is the man that I obtained work for,’ said Mr Villiers,
+addressing the air.
+
+‘It’s a very ungrateful world,’ said Vandeloup, calmly, with a shrug of
+his shoulders; ‘I never expect anything from it; I’m sorry if you do,
+for you are sure to be disappointed.’
+
+Villiers, finding he could make nothing out of the imperturbable
+coolness of the young Frenchman, turned to go, but as he went, said
+spitefully--
+
+‘You can tell my wife I’ll pay her for this.’
+
+‘Accounts are paid on Saturdays,’ called out M. Vandeloup, gaily; ‘if
+you call I will give you a receipt of the same kind as you had to-day.’
+
+Villiers made no response, as he was already out of hearing, and went on
+his way to the station with mud on his clothes and rage in his heart.
+
+Vandeloup looked after him for a few minutes with a queer smile on his
+lips, then turned on his heel and walked home, humming a song.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+MADAME MIDAS STRIKES ‘ILE’
+
+
+Aesop knew human nature very well when he wrote his fable of the old
+man and his ass, who tried to please everybody and ended up by pleasing
+nobody. Bearing this in mind, Madame Midas determined to please herself,
+and take no one’s advice but her own with regard to Vandeloup. She knew
+if she dismissed him from the mine it would give colour to her husband’s
+vile insinuations, so she thought the wisest plan would be to take no
+notice of her meeting with him, and let things remain as they were. It
+turned out to be the best thing she could have done, for though
+Villiers went about Ballarat accusing her of being the young Frenchman’s
+mistress, everyone was too well aware of existing circumstances to
+believe what he said. They knew that he had squandered his wife’s
+fortune, and that she had left him in disgust at his profligacy, so
+they declined to believe his accusations against a woman who had
+proved herself true steel in withstanding bad fortune. So Mr Villiers’
+endeavours to ruin his wife only recoiled on his own head, for the
+Ballarat folk argued, and rightly, that whatever she did it was not his
+place to cast the first stone at her, seeing that the unsatisfactory
+position she was now in was mainly his own work. Villiers, therefore,
+gained nothing by his attempt to blacken his wife’s character except
+the contempt of everyone, and even the few friends he had gained turned
+their backs on him until no one would associate with him but Slivers,
+who did so in order to gain his own ends. The company had quarrelled
+over the unsuccessful result of Villiers’ visit to the Pactolus, and
+Slivers, as senior partner, assisted by Billy, called Villiers all
+the names he could lay his tongue to, which abuse Villiers accepted
+in silence, not even having the spirit to resent it. But though he was
+outwardly sulky and quiet, yet within he cherished a deep hatred against
+his wife for the contempt with which he was treated, and inwardly vowed
+to pay her out on the first feasible opportunity.
+
+It was now nearly six months since Vandeloup had become clerk at the
+Pactolus, and he was getting tired of it, only watching his opportunity
+to make a little money and go to Melbourne, where he had not much doubt
+as to his success. With a certain sum of money to work on, M. Vandeloup
+thought that with his talents and experience of human nature he would
+soon be able to make a fortune, particularly as he was quite unfettered
+by any scruples, and as long as he made money he did not care how he
+gained it. With such an adaptable nature he could hardly help doing
+well, but in order to give him the start he required a little capital,
+so stayed on at the Pactolus and saved every penny he earned in the hope
+of soon accumulating enough to leave. Another thing that kept him there
+was his love for Kitty--not a very pure or elevating love certainly,
+still it was love for all that, and Vandeloup could not tear himself
+away from the place where she resided.
+
+He had called on Kitty’s father, the Rev. Mark Marchurst, who lived
+at the top of Black Hill, near Ballarat, and did not like him. Mr
+Marchurst, a grave, quiet man, who was the pastor of a particular sect,
+calling themselves very modestly ‘The Elect’, was hardly the kind of
+individual to attract a brilliant young fellow like Vandeloup, and the
+wonder was that he ever had such a charming daughter.
+
+Kitty had fallen deeply in love with Vandeloup, so as he told her he
+loved her in return, she thought that some day they would get married.
+But nothing was farther from M. Vandeloup’s thoughts than marriage, even
+with Kitty, for he knew how foolish it would be for him to marry before
+making a position.
+
+‘I don’t want a wife to drag me back,’ he said to himself one day when
+Kitty had hinted at matrimony; ‘when I am wealthy it will be time enough
+to think of marriage, but it will be long before I am rich, and can I
+wait for Bebe all that time? Alas! I do not think so.’
+
+The fact was, the young man was very liberal in his ideas, and
+infinitely preferred a mistress to a wife. He had not any evil designs
+towards Kitty, but her bright manner and charming face pleased him,
+and he simply enjoyed the hours as they passed. She idolised him, and
+Gaston, who was accustomed to be petted and caressed by women, accepted
+all her affection as his due. Curiously enough, Madame Midas, lynx-eyed
+as she was, never suspected the true state of affairs. Vandeloup had
+told Kitty that no one was to know of their love for one another, and
+though Kitty was dying to tell Madame about it, yet she kept silent
+at his request, and acted so indifferently towards him when under Mrs
+Villiers’ eye, that any doubts that lady had about the fascinations of
+her clerk soon vanished.
+
+As to M. Vandeloup, the situation was an old one for him accustomed
+as he had been to carry on with guilty wives under the very noses of
+unsuspecting husbands, and on this occasion he acted admirably. He was
+very friendly with Kitty in public--evidently looking upon her as a mere
+child, although he made no difference in his manner. And this innocent
+intrigue gave a piquant flavour to his otherwise dull life.
+
+Meanwhile, the Devil’s Lead was still undiscovered, many people
+declaring it was a myth, and that such a lead had never existed. Three
+people, however, had a firm belief in its existence, and were certain
+it would be found some day--this trio being McIntosh, Madame Midas, and
+Slivers.
+
+The Pactolus claim was a sort of Naboth’s vineyard to Slivers, who, in
+company with Billy, used to sit in his dingy little office and grind his
+teeth as he thought of all the wealth lying beneath those green fields.
+He had once even gone so far as to offer to buy a share in the claim
+from Madame Midas, but had been promptly refused by that lady--a
+circumstance which by no means added to his love for her.
+
+Still the Devil’s Lead was not found, and people were beginning to
+disbelieve in its existence, when suddenly indications appeared which
+showed that it was near at hand. Nuggets, some large, some small,
+began to be constantly discovered, and every day news was brought into
+Ballarat about the turning-up of a thirty-ounce or a twenty-ounce nugget
+in the Pactolus, when, to crown all, the news came and ran like wildfire
+through the city that a three hundred ounce nugget had been unearthed.
+
+There was great excitement over this, as such a large one had not been
+found for some time, and when Slivers heard of its discovery he cursed
+and swore most horribly; for with his long experience of gold mining,
+he knew that the long-looked for Devil’s Lead was near at hand. Billy,
+becoming excited with his master, began to swear also; and these
+two companions cursed Madame Midas and all that belonged to her most
+heartily. If Slivers could only have seen the interior of Madame Midas’s
+dining room, by some trick of necromancy, he would certainly not have
+been able to do the subject justice in the swearing line.
+
+There were present Madame Midas, Selina, McIntosh, and Vandeloup, and
+they were all gathered round the table looking at the famous nugget.
+There it lay in the centre of the table, a virgin mass of gold, all
+water-worn and polished, hollowed out like a honeycomb, and dotted over
+with white pebbles like currants in a plum pudding.
+
+‘I think I’ll send it to Melbourne for exhibition,’ said Mrs Villiers,
+touching the nugget very lightly with her fingers.
+
+‘’Deed, mum, and ‘tis worth it,’ replied McIntosh, whose severe face was
+relaxed in a grimly pleasant manner; ‘but losh! ‘tis naething tae what
+‘ull come oot o’ the Deil’s Lead.’
+
+‘Oh, come, now,’ said Vandeloup, with a disbelieving smile, ‘the Devil’s
+Lead won’t consist of nuggets like that.’
+
+‘Maybe no,’ returned the old Scotchman, dryly; ‘but every mickle makes
+a muckle, and ye ken the Lead wull hae mony sma’ nuggets, which is mair
+paying, to my mind, than yin large ain.’
+
+‘What’s the time?’ asked Madame, rather irrelevantly, turning to Archie.
+
+Mr McIntosh drew out the large silver watch, which was part and parcel
+of himself, and answered gravely that it was two o’clock.
+
+‘Then I’ll tell you what,’ said Mrs Villiers, rising; ‘I’ll take it in
+with me to Ballarat and show it to Mr Marchurst.’
+
+McIntosh drew down the corners of his mouth, for, as a rigid
+Presbyterian, he by no means approved of Marchurst’s heretical opinions,
+but of course said nothing as Madame wished it.
+
+‘Can I come with you, Madame?’ said Vandeloup, eagerly, for he never
+lost an opportunity of seeing Kitty if he could help it.
+
+‘Certainly,’ replied Madame, graciously; ‘we will start at once.’
+
+Vandeloup was going away to get ready, when McIntosh stopped him.
+
+‘That friend o’ yours is gangin’ awa’ t’ the toun the day,’ he said,
+touching Vandeloup lightly on the shoulder.
+
+‘What for?’ asked the Frenchman, carelessly.
+
+‘’Tis to see the play actors, I’m thinkin’,’ returned Archie, dryly.
+‘He wants tae stap all nicht i’ the toun, so I’ve let him gae, an’ have
+tauld him to pit up at the Wattle Tree Hotel, the landlord o’ which is a
+freend o’ mine.’
+
+‘Very kind of you, I’m sure,’ said Vandeloup, with a pleasant smile;
+‘but may I ask what play actors you refer to?’
+
+‘I dinna ken anythin’ about sic folk,’ retorted Mr McIntosh, piously,
+‘the deil’s ain bairns, wha wull gang into the pit of Tophet.’
+
+‘Aren’t you rather hard on them, Archie?’ said Madame Midas, smiling
+quietly. ‘I’m very fond of the theatre myself.’
+
+‘It’s no for me to give ma opeenion about ma betters,’ replied Archie,
+ungraciously, as he went out to see after the horse and trap; ‘but I
+dinna care aboot sitting in the seat of the scornfu’, or walking in the
+ways of the unrighteous,’ and with this parting shot at Vandeloup he
+went away.
+
+That young man shrugged his shoulders, and looked at Madame Midas in
+such a comical manner that she could not help smiling.
+
+‘You must forgive Archie,’ she said, pausing at the door of her bedroom
+for a moment. ‘He has been brought up severely, and it is hard to rid
+oneself of the traditions of youth.’
+
+‘Very traditional in this case, I’m afraid,’ answered Gaston, referring
+to McIntosh’s age.
+
+‘If you like,’ said Madame, in a kindly tone, ‘you can stay in to-night
+yourself, and go to the theatre.’
+
+‘Thank you, Madame,’ replied Gaston, gravely. ‘I will avail myself of
+your kind permission.’
+
+‘I’m afraid you will find an Australian provincial company rather a
+change after the Parisian theatres,’ said Mrs Villiers, as she vanished
+into her room.
+
+Vandeloup smiled, and turned to Selina, who was busy about her household
+work.
+
+‘Mademoiselle Selina,’ he said, gaily, ‘I am in want of a proverb to
+answer Madame; if I can’t get the best I must be content with what I can
+get. Now what piece of wisdom applies?’
+
+Selina, flattered at being applied to, thought a moment, then raised her
+head triumphantly--
+
+‘“Half a loaf is better than none,”’ she announced, with a sour smile.
+
+‘Mademoiselle,’ said Vandeloup, gravely regarding her as he stood at the
+door, ‘your wisdom is only equalled by your charming appearance,’ and
+with an ironical bow he went out.
+
+Selina paused a moment in her occupation of polishing spoons, and looked
+after him, doubtful as to whether he was in jest or earnest. Being
+unable to decide, she resumed her work with a stifled chuckle, and
+consoled herself with a proverb.
+
+‘To be good is better than to be beautiful,’ which saying, as everyone
+knows, is most consoling to plain-looking people.
+
+The great nugget was carefully packed in a stout wooden box by Archie,
+and placed in the trap by him with such caution that Madame, who was
+already seated in it, asked him if he was afraid she would be robbed.
+
+‘It’s always best to be on the richt side, mem,’ said Archie, handing
+her the reins; ‘we dinna ken what may happen.’
+
+‘Why, no one knows I am taking this to Ballarat to-day,’ said Madame,
+drawing on her gloves.
+
+‘Don’t they?’ thought M. Vandeloup, as he took his seat beside her. ‘She
+doesn’t know that I’ve told Pierre.’
+
+And without a single thought for the woman whose confidence he was
+betraying, and of whose bread and salt he had partaken, Vandeloup shook
+the reins, and the horse started down the road in the direction of
+Ballarat, carrying Madame Midas and her nugget.
+
+‘You carry Caesar and his fortunes, M. Vandeloup,’ she said, with a
+smile.
+
+‘I do better,’ he answered, gaily, ‘I carry Madame Midas and her luck.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+LOVE’S YOUNG DREAM
+
+
+Mr Mark Marchurst was a very peculiar man. Brought up in the
+Presbyterian religion, he had early displayed his peculiarity by
+differing from the elders of the church he belonged to regarding their
+doctrine of eternal punishment. They, holding fast to the teachings of
+Knox and Calvin, looked upon him in horror for daring to have an opinion
+of his own; and as he refused to repent and have blind belief in the
+teachings of those grim divines, he was turned out of the bosom of
+the church. Drifting to the opposite extreme, he became a convert to
+Catholicism; but, after a trial of that ancient faith, found it would
+not suit him, so once more took up a neutral position. Therefore, as he
+did not find either religion perfectly in accordance with his own views,
+he took the law into his own hands and constructed one which was a queer
+jumble of Presbyterianism, Catholicism, and Buddhism, of which last
+religion he was a great admirer. As anyone with strong views and a
+clever tongue will find followers, Mr Marchurst soon gathered a number
+of people around him who professed a blind belief in the extraordinary
+doctrines he promulgated. Having thus founded a sect he got sufficient
+money out of them to build a temple--for so he called the barn-like
+edifice he erected--and christened this new society which he had called
+into existence ‘The Elect’. About one hundred people were members of his
+church, and with their subscriptions, and also having a little money of
+his own, he managed to live in a quiet manner in a cottage on the Black
+Hill near to his temple. Every Sunday he held forth morning and evening,
+expounding his views to his sparse congregation, and was looked upon
+by them as a kind of prophet. As a matter of fact, the man had that
+peculiar power of fascination which seems to be inseparable from the
+prophetic character, and it was his intense enthusiasm and eloquent
+tongue that cast a spell over the simple-minded people who believed in
+him. But his doctrines were too shallow and unsatisfactory ever to take
+root, and it could be easily seen that when Marchurst died ‘The Elect’
+would die also,--that is, as a sect, for it was not pervaded by that
+intense religious fervour which is the life and soul of a new doctrine.
+The fundamental principles of his religion were extremely simple; he
+saved his friends and damned his enemies, for so he styled those who
+were not of the same mind as himself. If you were a member of ‘The
+Elect’, Mr Marchurst assured you that the Golden Gate was wide open for
+you, whereas if you belonged to any other denomination you were lost for
+ever; so according to this liberal belief, the hundred people who formed
+his congregation would all go straight to Heaven, and all the rest of
+mankind would go to the devil.
+
+In spite of the selfishness of this theory, which condemned so many
+souls to perdition, Marchurst was a kindly natured man, and his religion
+was more of an hallucination than anything else. He was very clever at
+giving advice, and Madame Midas esteemed him highly on this account.
+Though Marchurst had often tried to convert her, she refused to believe
+in the shallow sophistries he set forth, and told him she had her own
+views on religion, which views she declined to impart to him, though
+frequently pressed to do so. The zealot regretted this obstinacy, as,
+according to his creed, she was a lost soul, but he liked her too well
+personally to quarrel with her on that account, consoling himself with
+the reflection that sooner or later, she would seek the fold. He was
+more successful with M. Vandeloup, who, having no religion whatever,
+allowed Marchurst to think he had converted him, in order to see as much
+as he could of Kitty. He used to attend the Sunday services regularly,
+and frequently came in during the week ostensibly to talk to Marchurst
+about the doctrines of ‘The Elect’, but in reality to see the old man’s
+daughter.
+
+On this bright afternoon, when everything was bathed in sunshine, Mr
+Marchurst, instead of being outside and enjoying the beauties of Nature,
+was mewed up in his dismal little study, with curtains closely drawn
+to exclude the light, a cup of strong tea, and the Bible open at ‘The
+Lamentations of Jeremiah’. His room was lined with books, but they had
+not that friendly look books generally have, but, bound in dingy brown
+calf, looked as grim and uninviting as their contents, which were mostly
+sermons and cheerful anticipations of the bottomless pit. It was against
+Marchurst’s principles to gratify his senses by having nice things
+around him, and his whole house was furnished in the same dismal manner.
+
+So far did he carry this idea of mortifying the flesh through the eyes
+that he had tried to induce Kitty to wear sad-coloured dresses and
+poke bonnets; but in this attempt he failed lamentably, as Kitty
+flatly refused to make a guy of herself, and always wore dresses of the
+lightest and gayest description.
+
+Marchurst groaned over this display of vanity, but as he could do
+nothing with the obdurate Kitty, he allowed her to have her own way, and
+made a virtue of necessity by calling her his ‘thorn in the flesh’.
+
+He was a tall thin man, of a bleached appearance, from staying so much
+in the dark, and so loosely put together that when he bowed he did
+not as much bend as tumble down from a height. In fact, he looked so
+carelessly fixed up that when he sat down he made the onlooker feel
+quite nervous lest he should subside into a ruin, and scatter his legs,
+arms, and head promiscuously all over the place. He had a sad, pale,
+eager-looking face, with dreamy eyes, which always seemed to be looking
+into the spiritual world. He wore his brown hair long, as he always
+maintained a man’s hair was as much his glory as a woman’s was hers,
+quoting Samson and Absalom in support of this opinion. His arms were
+long and thin, and when he gesticulated in the pulpit on Sundays flew
+about like a couple of flails, which gave him a most unhappy resemblance
+to a windmill. The ‘Lamentations of Jeremiah’ are not the most cheerful
+of reading, and Mr Marchurst, imbued with the sadness of the Jewish
+prophet, drinking strong tea and sitting in a darkened room, was rapidly
+sinking into a very dismal frame of mind, which an outsider would have
+termed a fit of the blues. He sat in his straight-backed chair taking
+notes of such parts of the ‘Lamentations’ as would tend to depress the
+spirits of the ‘Elect’ on Sunday, and teach them to regard life in a
+proper and thoroughly miserable manner.
+
+He was roused from his dismal musings by the quick opening of the door
+of his study, when Kitty, joyous and gay in her white dress, burst like
+a sunbeam into the room.
+
+“I wish, Katherine,” said her father, in a severe voice, “I wish you
+would not enter so noisily and disturb my meditations.”
+
+“You’ll have to put your meditations aside for a bit,” said Kitty,
+disrespectfully, crossing to the window and pulling aside the curtains,
+“for Madame Midas and M. Vandeloup have come to see you.”
+
+A flood of golden light streamed into the dusky room, and Marchurst put
+his hand to his eyes for a moment, as they were dazzled by the sudden
+glare.
+
+“They’ve got something to show you, papa,” said Kitty, going back to the
+door: “a big nugget--such a size--as large as your head.”
+
+Her father put his hand mechanically to his head to judge of the size,
+and was about to answer when Madame Midas, calm, cool, and handsome,
+entered the room, followed by Vandeloup, carrying a wooden box
+containing the nugget. It was by no means light, and Vandeloup was quite
+thankful when he placed it on the table.
+
+“I hope I’m not disturbing you, Mr Marchurst,” said Madame, sitting down
+and casting a glance at the scattered papers, the cup of tea, and the
+open Bible, “but I couldn’t help gratifying my vanity by bringing the
+new nugget for you to see.”
+
+“It’s very kind of you, I’m sure,” responded Mr Marchurst, politely,
+giving way suddenly in the middle as if he had a hinge in his back,
+which was his idea of a bow. “I hope this,” laying his hand on the box,
+“may be the forerunner of many such.”
+
+“Oh, it will,” said Vandeloup, cheerfully, “if we can only find the
+Devil’s Lead.”
+
+“An unholy name,” groaned Marchurst sadly, shaking his head. “Why did
+you not call it something else?”
+
+“Simply because I didn’t name it,” replied Madame Midas, bluntly; “but
+if the lead is rich, the name doesn’t matter much.”
+
+“Of course not,” broke in Kitty, impatiently, being anxious to see the
+nugget. “Do open the box; I’m dying to see it.”
+
+“Katherine! Katherine!” said Marchurst, reprovingly, as Vandeloup opened
+the box, “how you do exaggerate--ah!” he broke off his exhortation
+suddenly, for the box was open, and the great mass of gold was
+glittering in its depths. ‘Wonderful!’
+
+‘What a size!’ cried Kitty, clapping her hands as Vandeloup lifted it
+out and placed it on the table; ‘how much is it worth?’
+
+‘About twelve hundred pounds,’ said Madame, quietly, though her heart
+throbbed with pride as she looked at her nugget; ‘it weighs three
+hundred ounces.’
+
+‘Wonderful!’ reiterated the old man, passing his thin hand lightly over
+the rough surface; ‘verily the Lord hath hidden great treasure in the
+entrails of the earth, and the Pactolus would seem to be a land of Ophir
+when it yields such wealth as this.’
+
+The nugget was duly admired by everyone, and then Brown and Jane, who
+formed the household of Marchurst, were called in to look at it. They
+both expressed such astonishment and wonder, that Marchurst felt himself
+compelled to admonish them against prizing the treasures of earth above
+those of heaven. Vandeloup, afraid that they were in for a sermon,
+beckoned quietly to Kitty, and they both stealthily left the room, while
+Marchurst, with Brown, Jane, and Madame for an audience, and the nugget
+for a text, delivered a short discourse.
+
+Kitty put on a great straw hat, underneath which her piquant face
+blushed and grew pink beneath the fond gaze of her lover as they left
+the house together and strolled up to the Black Hill.
+
+Black Hill no doubt at one time deserved its name, being then covered
+with dark trees and representing a black appearance at a distance; but
+at present, owing to the mines which have been worked there, the whole
+place is covered with dazzling white clay, or mulloch, which now renders
+the title singularly inappropriate. On the top of the hill there is a
+kind of irregular gully or pass, which extends from one side of the
+hill to the other, and was cut in the early days for mining purposes.
+Anything more extraordinary can hardly be imagined than this chasm, for
+the sides, which tower up on either side to the height of some fifty or
+sixty feet, are all pure white, and at the top break into all sorts of
+fantastic forms. The white surface of the rocks are all stained with
+colours which alternate in shades of dark brown, bright red and delicate
+pink. Great masses of rock have tumbled down on each side, often coming
+so close together as to almost block up the path. Here and there in the
+white walls can be seen the dark entrances of disused shafts; and one,
+at the lowest level of the gully, pierces through the hill and comes
+out on the other side. There is an old engine-house near the end of the
+gully, with its red brick chimney standing up gaunt and silent beside
+it, and the ugly tower of the winding gear adjacent. All the machinery
+in the engine-house, with the huge wheels and intricate mechanism,
+is silent now--for many years have elapsed since this old shaft was
+abandoned by the Black Hill Gold Mining Company.
+
+At the lower end of the pass there is an engine-house in full working
+order, and a great plateau of slate-coloured mulloch runs out for some
+yards, and then there is a steep sloping bank formed by the falling
+earth. In the moonlight this wonderful white gully looks weird and
+bizarre; and even as Vandeloup and Kitty stood at the top looking down
+into its dusty depths in the bright sunshine, it looks fantastic and
+picturesque.
+
+Seated on the highest point of the hill, under the shadow of a great
+rock, the two lovers had a wonderful view of Ballarat. Here and there
+they could see the galvanized iron roofs of the houses gleaming like
+silver in the sunlight from amid the thick foliage of the trees with
+which the city is studded. Indeed, Ballarat might well be called the
+City of Trees, for seen from the Black Hill it looks more like a huge
+park with a sprinkling of houses in it than anything else. The green
+foliage rolls over it like the waves of the ocean, and the houses rise
+up like isolated habitations. Now and then a red brick building, or the
+slender white spire of a church gave a touch of colour to the landscape,
+and contrasted pleasantly with the bluish-white roofs and green trees.
+Scattered all through the town were the huge mounds of earth marking
+the mining-shafts of various colours, from dark brown to pure white, and
+beside them, with the utmost regularity, were the skeleton towers of
+the poppet heads, the tall red chimneys, and the squat, low forms of the
+engine-houses. On the right, high up, could be seen the blue waters
+of Lake Wendouree flashing like a mirror in the sunlight. The city was
+completely encircled by the dark forests, which stretched far away,
+having a reddish tinge over their trees, ending in a sharply defined
+line against the clear sky; while, on the left arose Mount Warreneip
+like an undulating mound and, further along, Mount Bunniyong, with the
+same appearance.
+
+All this wonderful panorama, however, was so familiar to Kitty and her
+lover that they did not trouble themselves to look much at it; but the
+girl sat down under the big rock, and Vandeloup flung himself lazily at
+her feet.
+
+‘Bebe,’ said Vandeloup, who had given her this pet name, ‘how long is
+this sort of life going to last?’
+
+Kitty looked down at him with a vague feeling of terror at her heart.
+She had never known any life but the simple one she was now leading, and
+could not imagine it coming to an end.
+
+‘I’m getting tired of it,’ said Vandeloup, lying back on the grass,
+and, putting his hands under his head, stared idly at the blue sky.
+‘Unfortunately, human life is so short nowadays that we cannot afford to
+waste a moment of it. I am not suited for a lotus-eating existence, and
+I think I shall go to Melbourne.’
+
+‘And leave me?’ cried Kitty, in dismay, never having contemplated such a
+thing as likely to happen.
+
+‘That depends on yourself, Bebe,’ said her lover, quickly rolling over
+and looking steadily at her, with his chin resting on his hands; ‘will
+you come with me?’
+
+‘As your wife?’ murmured Kitty, whose innocent mind never dreamt of any
+other form of companionship.
+
+Vandeloup turned away his face to conceal the sneering smile that crept
+over it. His wife, indeed! as if he were going to encumber himself with
+marriage before he had made a fortune, and even then it was questionable
+as to whether he would surrender the freedom of bachelorhood for the
+ties of matrimony.
+
+‘Of course,’ he said, in a reassuring tone, still keeping his face
+turned away, ‘we will get married in Melbourne as soon as we arrive.’
+
+‘Why can’t papa marry us,’ pouted Kitty, in an aggrieved tone.
+
+‘My dear child,’ said the Frenchman, getting on his knees and coming
+close to her, ‘in the first place, your father would not consent to the
+match, as I am poor and unknown, and not by any means the man he would
+choose for you; and in the second place, being a Catholic,’--here M.
+Vandeloup looked duly religious--‘I must be married by one of my own
+priests.’
+
+‘Then why not in Ballarat?’ objected Kitty, still unconvinced.
+
+‘Because your father would never consent,’ he whispered, putting his arm
+round her waist; ‘we must run away quietly, and when we are married can
+ask his pardon and,’ with a sardonic sneer, ‘his blessing.’
+
+A delicious thrill passed through Kitty when she heard this. A real
+elopement with a handsome lover--just like the heroines in the story
+books. It was delightfully romantic, and yet there seemed to be
+something wrong about it. She was like a timid bather, longing to
+plunge into the water, yet hesitating through a vague fear. With a quick
+catching of the breath she turned to Vandeloup, and saw him with his
+burning scintillating eyes fastened on her face.
+
+‘Don’t look like that,’ she said, with a touch of virginal fear, pushing
+him away, ‘you frighten me.’
+
+‘Frighten you, Bebe?’ he said, in a caressing tone; ‘my heart’s idol,
+you are cruel to speak like that; you must come with me, for I cannot
+and will not leave you behind.’
+
+‘When do you go?’ asked Kitty, who was now trembling violently.
+
+‘Ah!’ M. Vandeloup was puzzled what to say, as he had no very decided
+plan of action. He had not sufficient money saved to justify him in
+leaving the Pactolus--still there were always possibilities, and Fortune
+was fond of playing wild pranks. At the same time there was nothing
+tangible in view likely to make him rich, so, as these thoughts rapidly
+passed through his mind, he resolved to temporize.
+
+‘I can’t tell you, Bebe,’ he said, in a caressing tone, smoothing her
+curly hair. ‘I want you to think over what I have said, and when I do
+go, perhaps in a month or so, you will be ready to come with me. No,’ he
+said, as Kitty was about to answer, ‘I don’t want you to reply now, take
+time to consider, little one,’ and with a smile on his lips he bent over
+and kissed her tenderly.
+
+They sat silently together for some time, each intent on their own
+thoughts, and then Vandeloup suddenly looked up.
+
+‘Will Madame stay to dinner with you, Bebe?’ he asked.
+
+Kitty nodded.
+
+‘She always does,’ she answered; ‘you will come too.’
+
+Vandeloup shook his head.
+
+‘I am going down to Ballarat to the Wattle Tree Hotel to see my friend
+Pierre,’ he said, in a preoccupied manner, ‘and will have something to
+eat there. Then I will come up again about eight o’clock, in time to see
+Madame off.’
+
+‘Aren’t you going back with her?’ asked Kitty, in surprise, as they rose
+to their feet.
+
+‘No,’ he replied, dusting his knees with his hand, ‘I stay all night
+in Ballarat, with Madame’s kind permission, to see the theatre. Now,
+good-bye at present, Bebe,’ kissing her, ‘I will be back at eight
+o’clock, so you can excuse me to Madame till then.’
+
+He ran gaily down the hill waving his hat, and Kitty stood looking after
+him with pride in her heart. He was a lover any girl might have been
+proud of, but Kitty would not have been so satisfied with him had she
+known what his real thoughts were.
+
+‘Marry!’ he said to himself, with a laugh, as he walked gaily along;
+‘hardly! When we get to Melbourne, my sweet Bebe, I will find some way
+to keep you off that idea--and when we grow tired of one another, we can
+separate without the trouble or expense of a divorce.’
+
+And this heartless, cynical man of the world was the keeper into whose
+hands innocent Kitty was about to commit the whole of her future life.
+
+After all, the fabled Sirens have their equivalent in the male sex, and
+Homer’s description symbolizes a cruel truth.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+FRIENDS IN COUNCIL
+
+
+The Wattle Tree Hotel, to which Mr McIntosh had directed Pierre, was a
+quiet little public-house in a quiet street. It was far away from the
+main thoroughfares of the city, and a stranger had to go up any number
+of quiet streets to get to it, and turn and twist round corners and down
+narrow lanes until it became a perfect miracle how he ever found the
+hotel at all.
+
+To a casual spectator it would seem that a tavern so difficult of access
+would not be very good for business, but Simon Twexby, the landlord,
+knew better. It had its regular customers, who came there day after day,
+and sat in the little back parlour and talked and chatted over their
+drinks. The Wattle Tree was such a quiet haven of rest, and kept such
+good liquor, that once a man discovered it he always came back again; so
+Mr Twexby did a very comfortable trade.
+
+Rumour said he had made a lot of money out of gold-mining, and that he
+kept the hotel more for amusement than anything else; but, however this
+might be, the trade of the Wattle Tree brought him in a very decent
+income, and Mr Twexby could afford to take things easy--which he
+certainly did.
+
+Anyone going into the bar could see old Simon--a stolid, fat man, with
+a sleepy-looking face, always in his shirt sleeves, and wearing a white
+apron, sitting in a chair at the end, while his daughter, a sharp,
+red-nosed damsel, who was thirty-five years of age, and confessed to
+twenty-two, served out the drinks. Mrs Twexby had long ago departed this
+life, leaving behind her the sharp, red-nosed damsel to be her father’s
+comfort. As a matter of fact, she was just the opposite, and Simon often
+wished that his daughter had departed to a better world in company with
+her mother. Thin, tight-laced, with a shrill voice and an acidulated
+temper, Miss Twexby was still a spinster, and not even the fact of her
+being an heiress could tempt any of the Ballarat youth to lead her to
+the altar. Consequently Miss Twexby’s temper was not a golden one, and
+she ruled the hotel and its inmates--her father included--with a rod of
+iron.
+
+Mr Villiers was a frequent customer at the Wattle Tree, and was in the
+back parlour drinking brandy and water and talking to old Twexby on the
+day that Pierre arrived. The dumb man came into the bar out of the dusty
+road, and, leaning over the counter, pushed a letter under Miss Twexby’s
+nose.
+
+‘Bills?’ queried that damsel, sharply.
+
+Pierre, of course, did not answer, but touched his lips with his hand to
+indicate he was dumb. Miss Twexby, however, read the action another way.
+
+‘You want a drink,’ she said, with a scornful toss of her head. ‘Where’s
+your money?’
+
+Pierre pointed out the letter, and although it was directed to her
+father, Miss Twexby, who managed everything, opened it and found it was
+from McIntosh, saying that the bearer, Pierre Lemaire, was to have a bed
+for the night, meals, drinks, and whatever else he required, and that
+he--McIntosh--would be responsible for the money. He furthermore added
+that the bearer was dumb.
+
+‘Oh, so you’re dumb, are you,’ said Miss Twexby, folding up the letter
+and looking complacently at Pierre. ‘I wish there were a few more men
+the same way; then, perhaps, we’d have less chat.’
+
+This being undeniable, the fair Martha--for that was the name of the
+Twexby heiress--without waiting for any assent, walking into the back
+parlour, read the letter to her father, and waited instructions, for she
+always referred to Simon as the head of the house, though as a matter of
+fact she never did what she was told save when it tallied with her own
+wishes.
+
+‘It will be all right, Martha, I suppose,’ said Simon sleepily.
+
+Martha asserted with decision that it would be all right, or she would
+know the reason why; then marching out again to the bar, she drew a pot
+of beer for Pierre--without asking him what he would have--and ordered
+him to sit down and be quiet, which last remark was rather unnecessary,
+considering that the man was dumb. Then she sat down behind her bar
+and resumed her perusal of a novel called ‘The Duke’s Duchesses, or
+The Milliner’s Mystery,’ which contained a ducal hero with bigamistic
+proclivities, and a virtuous milliner whom the aforesaid duke
+persecuted. All of which was very entertaining and improbable, and gave
+Miss Twexby much pleasure, judging from the sympathetic sighs she was
+heaving.
+
+Meanwhile, Villiers having heard the name of Pierre Lemaire, and knowing
+he was engaged in the Pactolus claim, came round to see him and try
+to find out all about the nugget. Pierre was sulky at first, and sat
+drinking his beer sullenly, with his old black hat drawn down so far
+over his eyes that only his bushy black beard was visible, but Mr
+Villiers’ suavity, together with the present of half-a-crown, had a
+marked effect on him. As he was dumb, Mr Villiers was somewhat perplexed
+how to carry on a conversation with him, but he ultimately drew forth a
+piece of paper, and sketched a rough presentation of a nugget thereon,
+which he showed to Pierre. The Frenchman, however, did not comprehend
+until Villiers produced a sovereign from his pocket, and pointed first
+to the gold, and then to the drawing, upon which Pierre nodded his head
+several times in order to show that he understood. Villiers then drew a
+picture of the Pactolus claim, and asked Pierre in French if the nugget
+was still there, as he showed him the sketch. Pierre shook his head,
+and, taking the pencil in his hand, drew a rough representation of a
+horse and cart, and put a square box in the latter to show the nugget
+was on a journey.
+
+‘Hullo!’ said Villiers to himself, ‘it’s not at her own house, and she’s
+driving somewhere with it, I wonder where to?’
+
+Pierre--who not being able to write, was in the habit of drawing
+pictures to express his thoughts--nudged his elbow and showed him a
+sketch of a man in a box waving his arms.
+
+‘Auctioneer?’ hazarded Mr Villiers, looking at this keenly. Pierre
+stared at him blankly; his comprehension of English was none of the
+best, so he did not know what auctioneer meant. However, he saw that
+Villiers did not understand, so he rapidly sketched an altar with a
+priest standing before it blessing the people.
+
+‘Oh, a priest, eh?--a minister?’ said Villiers, nodding his head to show
+he understood. ‘She’s taken the nugget to show it to a minister! Wonder
+who it is?’
+
+This was speedily answered by Pierre, who, throwing down the pencil and
+paper, dragged him outside on to the road, and pointed to the white top
+of the Black Hill. Mr Villiers instantly comprehended.
+
+‘Marchurst, by God!’ he said in English, smiting his leg with his open
+hand. ‘Is Madame there now?’ he added in French, turning to Pierre.
+
+The dumb man nodded and slouched slowly back into the hotel. Villiers
+stood out in the blazing sunshine, thinking.
+
+‘She’s got the nugget with her in the trap,’ he said to himself; ‘and
+she’s taken it to show Marchurst. Well, she’s sure to stop there to tea,
+and won’t start for home till about nine o’clock: it will be pretty dark
+by then. She’ll be by herself, and if I--’ here he stopped and looked
+round cautiously, and then, without another word, set off down the
+street at a run.
+
+The fact was, Mr Villiers had come to the conclusion that as his wife
+would not give him money willingly, the best thing to be done would be
+to take it by force, and accordingly he had made up his mind to rob her
+of the nugget that night if possible. Of course there was a risk, for
+he knew his wife was a determined woman; still, while she was driving in
+the darkness down the hill, if he took her by surprise he would be able
+to stun her with a blow and get possession of the nugget. Then he could
+hide it in one of the old shafts of the Black Hill Company until he
+required it. As to the possibility of his wife knowing him, there would
+be no chance of that in the darkness, so he could escape any unpleasant
+inquiries, then take the nugget to Melbourne and get it melted down
+secretly. He would be able to make nearly twelve hundred pounds out
+of it, so the game would certainly be worth the candle. Full of this
+brilliant idea of making a good sum at one stroke, Mr Villiers went
+home, had something to eat, and taking with him a good stout stick, the
+nob of which was loaded with lead, he started for the Black Hill with
+the intent of watching Marchurst’s house until his wife left there, and
+then following her down the hill and possessing himself of the nugget.
+
+The afternoon wore drowsily along, and the great heat made everybody
+inclined to sleep. Pierre had demanded by signs to be shown his bedroom,
+and having been conducted thereto by a crushed-looking waiter, who
+drifted aimlessly before him, threw himself on the bed and went fast
+asleep.
+
+Old Simon, in the dimly-lit back parlour, was already snoring, and only
+Miss Twexby, amid the glitter of the glasses in the bar and the glare
+of the sunshine through the open door, was wide awake. Customers came
+in for foaming tankards of beer, and sometimes a little girl, with a jug
+hidden under her apron, would appear, with a request that it might be
+filled for ‘mother’, who was ironing. Indeed, the number of women who
+were ironing that afternoon, and wanted to quench their thirst, was
+something wonderful; but Miss Twexby seemed to know all about it as she
+put a frothy head on each jug, and received the silver in exchange.
+At last, however, even Martha the wide-awake was yielding to the
+somniferous heat of the day when a young man entered the bar and made
+her sit up with great alacrity, beaming all over her hard wooden face.
+
+This was none other than M. Vandeloup, who had come down to see Pierre.
+Dressed in flannels, with a blue scarf tied carelessly round his waist,
+a blue necktie knotted loosely round his throat under the collar of his
+shirt, and wearing a straw hat on his fair head, he looked wonderfully
+cool and handsome, and as he leaned over the counter composedly smoking
+a cigarette, Miss Twexby thought that the hero of her novel must have
+stepped bodily out of the book. Gaston stared complacently at her while
+he pulled at his fair moustache, and thought how horribly plain-looking
+she was, and what a contrast to his charming Bebe.
+
+‘I’ll take something cool to drink,’ he said, with a yawn, ‘and also a
+chair, if you have no objection,’ suiting the action to the word; ‘whew!
+how warm it is.’
+
+‘What would you like to drink, sir?’ asked the fair Martha, putting on
+her brightest smile, which seemed rather out of place on her features;
+‘brandy and soda?’
+
+‘Thank you, I’ll have a lemon squash if you will kindly make me one,’ he
+said, carelessly, and as Martha flew to obey his order, he added, ‘you
+might put a little curacoa in it.’
+
+‘It’s very hot, ain’t it,’ observed Miss Twexby, affably, as she cut up
+the lemon; ‘par’s gone to sleep in the other room,’ jerking her head in
+the direction of the parlour, ‘but Mr Villiers went out in all the heat,
+and it ain’t no wonder if he gets a sunstroke.’
+
+‘Oh, was Mr Villiers here?’ asked Gaston, idly, not that he cared much
+about that gentleman’s movements, but merely for something to say.
+
+‘Lor, yes, sir,’ giggled Martha, ‘he’s one of our regulars, sir.’
+
+‘I can understand that, Mademoiselle,’ said Vandeloup, bowing as he took
+the drink from her hand.
+
+Miss Twexby giggled again, and her nose grew a shade redder at the
+pleasure of being bantered by this handsome young man.
+
+‘You’re a furriner,’ she said, shortly; ‘I knew you were,’ she went on
+triumphantly as he nodded, ‘you talk well enough, but there’s something
+wrong about the way you pronounces your words.’
+
+Vandeloup hardly thought Miss Twexby a mistress of Queen’s English, but
+he did not attempt to contradict her.
+
+‘I must get you to give me a few lessons,’ he replied, gallantly,
+setting down the empty glass; ‘and what has Mr Villiers gone out into
+the heat for?’
+
+‘It’s more nor I can tell,’ said Martha, emphatically, nodding her head
+till the short curls dangling over her ears vibrated as if they were
+made of wire. ‘He spoke to the dumb man and drew pictures for him, and
+then off he goes.’
+
+The dumb man! Gaston pricked up his ears at this, and, wondering what
+Villiers wanted to talk to Pierre about, he determined to find out.
+
+‘That dumb man is one of our miners from the Pactolus,’ he said,
+lighting another cigarette; ‘I wish to speak to him--has he gone out
+also?’
+
+‘No, he ain’t,’ returned Miss Twexby, decisively; ‘he’s gone to lie
+down; d’ye want to see him; I’ll send for him--’ with her hand on the
+bell-rope.
+
+‘No, thank you,’ said Vandeloup, stopping her, ‘I’ll go up to his room
+if you will show me the way.’
+
+‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ said Martha, preparing to leave the bar, but first
+ringing the bell so that the crushed-looking waiter might come and
+attend to possible customers; ‘he’s on the ground floor, and there ain’t
+no stairs to climb--now what are you looking at, sir?’ with another
+gratified giggle, as she caught Vandeloup staring at her.
+
+But he was not looking at her somewhat mature charms, but at a bunch of
+pale blue flowers, among which were some white blossoms she wore in the
+front of her dress.
+
+‘What are these?’ he asked, touching the white blossoms lightly with his
+finger.
+
+‘I do declare it’s that nasty hemlock!’ said Martha, in surprise,
+pulling the white flowers out of the bunch; ‘and I never knew it was
+there. Pah!’ and she threw the blossom down with a gesture of disgust.
+‘How they smell!’
+
+Gaston picked up one of the flowers, and crushed it between his fingers,
+upon which it gave out a peculiar mousy odour eminently disagreeable. It
+was hemlock sure enough, and he wondered how such a plant had come into
+Australia.
+
+‘Does it grow in your garden?’ he asked Martha.
+
+That damsel intimated it did, and offered to show him the plant, so that
+he could believe his own eyes.
+
+Vandeloup assented eagerly, and they were soon in the flower garden at
+the back of the house, which was blazing with vivid colours, in the hot
+glare of the sunshine.
+
+‘There you are,’ said Miss Twexby, pointing to a corner of the garden
+near the fence where the plant was growing; ‘par brought a lot of seeds
+from home, and that beastly thing got mixed up with them. Par keeps it
+growing, though, ‘cause no one else has got it. It’s quite a curiosity.’
+
+Vandeloup bent down and examined the plant, with its large, round,
+smooth, purple-spotted stem--its smooth, shining green leaves, and the
+tiny white flowers with their disagreeable odour.
+
+‘Yes, it is hemlock,’ he said, half to himself; ‘I did not know it could
+be grown here. Some day, Mademoiselle,’ he said, turning to Miss Twexby
+and walking back to the house with her, ‘I will ask you to let me have
+some of the roots of that plant to make an experiment with.’
+
+‘As much as you like,’ said the fair Martha, amiably; ‘it’s a nasty
+smelling thing. What are you going to make out of it?’
+
+‘Nothing particular,’ returned Vandeloup, with a yawn, as they entered
+the house and stopped at the door of Pierre’s room. ‘I’m a bit of a
+chemist, and amuse myself with these things.’
+
+‘You are clever,’ observed Martha, admiringly; ‘but here’s that man’s
+room--we didn’t give him the best’--apologetically--‘as miners are so
+rough.’
+
+‘Mademoiselle,’ said Vandeloup, eagerly, as she turned to go, ‘I see
+there are a few blossoms of hemlock left in your flower there,’ touching
+it with his finger; ‘will you give them to me?’
+
+Martha Twexby stared; surely this was the long-expected come at
+last--she had secured a lover; and such a lover--handsome, young, and
+gallant,--the very hero of her dreams. She almost fainted in delighted
+surprise, and unfastening the flowers with trembling fingers, gave them
+to Gaston. He placed them in a button-hole of his flannel coat, then
+before she could scream, or even draw back in time, this audacious young
+man put his arm round her and kissed her virginal lips. Miss Twexby was
+so taken by surprise, that she could offer no resistance, and by the
+time she had recovered herself, Gaston had disappeared into Pierre’s
+room and closed the door after him.
+
+‘Well,’ she said to herself, as she returned to the bar, ‘if that isn’t
+a case of love at first sight, my name ain’t Martha Twexby,’ and she sat
+down in the bar with her nerves all of a flutter, as she afterwards told
+a female friend who dropped in sometimes for a friendly cup of tea.
+
+Gaston closed the door after him, and found himself in a moderately
+large room, with one window looking on to the garden, and having a
+dressing-table with a mirror in front of it. There were two beds, one on
+each side, and on the farthest of these Pierre was sleeping heavily, not
+even Gaston’s entrance having roused him. Going over to him, Vandeloup
+touched him slightly, and with a spring the dumb man sat up in bed as if
+he expected to be arrested, and was all on the alert to escape.
+
+‘It’s only I, my friend,’ said Gaston, in French, crossing over to the
+other bed and sitting on it. ‘Come here; I wish to speak to you.’
+
+Pierre rose from his sleeping place, and, stumbling across the room,
+stood before Gaston with downcast eyes, his shaggy hair all tossed and
+tumbled by the contact with the pillow. Gaston himself coolly relit his
+cigarette, which had gone out, threw his straw hat on the bed, and then,
+curling one leg inside the other, looked long and keenly at Pierre.
+
+‘You saw Madame’s husband to-day?’ he said sharply, still eyeing the
+slouching figure before him, that seemed so restless under his steady
+gaze.
+
+Pierre nodded and shuffled his large feet.
+
+‘Did he want to know about his wife?’
+
+Another nod.
+
+‘I thought so; and about the new nugget also, I presume?’
+
+Still another nod.
+
+‘Humph,’ thoughtfully. ‘He’d like to get a share of it, I’ve no doubt.’
+
+The dumb man nodded violently; then, crossing over to his own bed,
+he placed the pillow in the centre of it, and falling on his knees,
+imitated the action of miners in working at the wash. Then he arose to
+his feet and pointed to the pillow.
+
+‘I see,’ said M. Vandeloup, who had been watching this pantomime with
+considerable interest; ‘that pillow is the nugget of which our friend
+wants a share.’
+
+Pierre assented; then, snatching up the pillow, he ran with it to the
+end of the room.
+
+‘Oh,’ said Gaston, after a moment’s thought, ‘so he’s going to run away
+with it. A very good idea; but how does he propose to get it?’
+
+Pierre dropped his pillow and pointed in the direction of the Black
+Hill.
+
+‘Does he know it’s up there?’ asked Vandeloup; ‘you told him, I
+suppose?’ As Pierre nodded, ‘Humph! I think I can see what Mr Villiers
+intends to do--rob his wife as she goes home tonight.’
+
+Pierre nodded in a half doubtful manner.
+
+‘You’re not quite sure,’ interrupted M. Vandeloup, ‘but I am. He won’t
+stop at anything to get money. You stay all night in town?’
+
+The dumb man assented.
+
+‘So do I,’ replied Vandeloup; ‘it’s a happy coincidence, because I see
+a chance of our getting that nugget.’ Pierre’s dull eyes brightened, and
+he rubbed his hands together in a pleased manner.
+
+‘Sit down,’ said Vandeloup, in a peremptory tone, pointing to the floor.
+‘I wish to tell you what I think.’
+
+Pierre obediently dropped on to the floor, where he squatted like a huge
+misshapen toad, while Vandeloup, after going to the door to see that
+it was closed, returned to the bed, sat down again, and, having lighted
+another cigarette, began to speak. All this precaution was somewhat
+needless, as he was talking rapidly in French, but then M. Vandeloup
+knew that walls have ears and possibly might understand foreign
+languages.
+
+‘I need hardly remind you,’ said Vandeloup, in a pleasant voice, ‘that
+when we landed in Australia I told you that there was war between
+ourselves and society, and that, at any cost, we must try to make money;
+so far, we have only been able to earn an honest livelihood--a way of
+getting rich which you must admit is remarkably slow. Here, however, is
+a chance of making, if not a fortune, at least a good sum of money at
+one stroke. This M. Villiers is going to rob his wife, and his plan
+will no doubt be this: he will lie in wait for her, and when she drives
+slowly down the hill, he will spring on to the trap and perhaps attempt
+to kill her; at all events, he will seize the box containing the nugget,
+and try to make off with it. How he intends to manage it I cannot tell
+you--it must be left to the chapter of accidents; but,’ in a lower
+voice, bending forward, ‘when he does get the nugget we must obtain it
+from him.’
+
+Pierre looked up and drew his hand across his throat.
+
+‘Not necessarily,’ returned Vandeloup, coolly; ‘I know your adage, “dead
+men tell no tales,” but it is a mistake--they do, and to kill him is
+dangerous. No, if we stun him we can go off with the nugget, and then
+make our way to Melbourne, where we can get rid of it quietly. As
+to Madame Midas, if her husband allows her to live--which I think is
+unlikely--I will make our excuses to her for leaving the mine. Now, I’m
+going up to M. Marchurst’s house, so you can meet me at the top of the
+hill, at eight o’clock tonight. Madame will probably start at half-past
+eight or nine, so that will give us plenty of time to see what M.
+Villiers is going to do.’
+
+They both rose to their feet. Then Vandeloup put on his hat, and, going
+to the glass, arranged his tie in as cool and nonchalant a manner as
+if he had been merely planning the details for a picnic instead of a
+possible crime. While admiring himself in the glass he caught sight of
+the bunch of flowers given to him by Miss Twexby, and, taking them from
+his coat, he turned round to Pierre, who stood watching him in his usual
+sullen manner.
+
+‘Do you see these?’ he asked, touching the white blossoms with the
+cigarette he held between his fingers.
+
+Pierre intimated that he did.
+
+‘From the plant of these, my friend,’ said Vandeloup, looking at them
+critically, ‘I can prepare a vegetable poison as deadly as any of Caesar
+Borgia’s. It is a powerful narcotic, and leaves hardly any trace. Having
+been a medical student, you know,’ he went on, conversationally, ‘I made
+quite a study of toxicology, and the juice of this plant,’ touching the
+white flower, ‘has done me good service, although it was the cause of my
+exile to New Caledonia. Well,’ with a shrug of the shoulders as he
+put the flowers back in his coat, ‘it is always something to have in
+reserve; I did not know that I could get this plant here, my friend. But
+now that I have I will prepare a little of this poison,--it will always
+be useful in emergencies.’
+
+Pierre looked steadily at the young man, and then slipping his hand
+behind his back he drew forth from the waistband of his trousers a
+long, sharp, cruel-looking knife, which for safety had a leather sheath.
+Drawing this off, the dumb man ran his thumb along the keen edge, and
+held the knife out towards Vandeloup, who refused it with a cynical
+smile.
+
+‘You don’t believe in this, I can see,’ he said, touching the dainty
+bunch of flowers as Pierre put the knife in its sheath again and
+returned it to its hiding-place. ‘I’m afraid your ideas are still
+crude--you believe in the good old-fashioned style of blood-letting.
+Quite a mistake, I assure you; poison is much more artistic and neat
+in its work, and to my mind involves less risk. You see, my Pierre,’ he
+continued, lazily watching the blue wreaths of smoke from his cigarette
+curl round his head, ‘crime must improve with civilization; and since
+the Cain and Abel epoch we have refined the art of murder in a most
+wonderful manner--decidedly we are becoming more civilized; and now, my
+friend,’ in a kind tone, laying his slender white hand on the shoulder
+of the dumb man, ‘you must really take a little rest, for I have
+no doubt but what you will need all your strength tonight should M.
+Villiers prove obstinate. Of course,’ with a shrug, ‘if he does not
+succeed in getting the nugget, our time will be simply wasted, and
+then,’ with a gay smile, touching the flowers, ‘I will see what I can do
+in the artistic line.’
+
+Pierre lay down again on the bed, and turning his face to the wall fell
+fast asleep, while M. Vandeloup, humming a merry tune, walked gaily out
+of the room to the bar, and asked Miss Twexby for another drink.
+
+‘Brandy and soda this time, please,’ he said, lazily lighting another
+cigarette; ‘this heat is so enervating, and I’m going to walk up to
+Black Hill. By the way, Mademoiselle,’ he went on, as she opened the
+soda water, ‘as I see there are two beds in my friend’s room I will stay
+here all night.’
+
+‘You shall have the best room,’ said Martha, decisively, as she handed
+him the brandy and soda.
+
+‘You are too kind,’ replied M. Vandeloup, coolly, as he took the drink
+from her, ‘but I prefer to stay with my silent friend. He was one of the
+sailors in the ship when I was wrecked, as you have no doubt heard, and
+looks upon me as a sort of fetish.’
+
+Miss Twexby knew all about the wreck, and thought it was beautiful that
+he should condescend to be so friendly with a common sailor. Vandeloup
+received all her speeches with a polite smile, then set down his empty
+glass and prepared to leave.
+
+‘Mademoiselle,’ he said, touching the flowers, ‘you see I still have
+them--they will remind me of you,’ and raising his hat he strolled idly
+out of the hotel, and went off in the direction of the Black Hill.
+
+Miss Twexby ran to the door, and shading her eyes with her hands from
+the blinding glare of the sun, she watched him lounging along the
+street, tall, slender, and handsome.
+
+‘He’s just lovely,’ she said to herself, as she returned to the bar ‘but
+his eyes are so wicked; I don’t think he’s a good young man.’
+
+What would she have said if she had heard the conversation in the
+bedroom?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THEODORE WOPPLES, ACTOR
+
+
+Mr Villiers walked in a leisurely manner along the lower part of the
+town, with the intent of going up to his destination through the old
+mining gully. He took this route for two reasons--first, because the
+afternoon was hot, and it was easier climbing up that way than going
+by the ordinary road; and, second, on his journey through the chasm he
+would be able to mark some place where he could hide the nugget. With
+his stick under his arm, Mr Villiers trudged merrily along in a happy
+humour, as if he was bent on pleasure instead of robbery. And after
+all, as he said to himself, it could not be called a genuine robbery,
+as everything belonging to his wife was his by right of the marriage
+service, and he was only going to have his own again. With this
+comfortable thought he climbed slowly up the broken tortuous path which
+led to the Black Hill, and every now and then would pause to rest, and
+admire the view.
+
+It was now nearly six o’clock, and the sun was sinking amid a blaze of
+splendour. The whole of the western sky was a sea of shimmering gold,
+and this, intensified near the horizon to almost blinding brightness,
+faded off towards the zenith of the sky into a delicate green, and
+thence melted imperceptibly into a cold blue.
+
+Villiers, however, being of the earth, earthy, could not be troubled
+looking very long at such a common-place sight as a sunset; the same
+thing occurred every evening, and he had more important things to do
+than to waste his time gratifying his artistic eye. Arriving on the
+plateau of earth just in front of the gully, he was soon entering the
+narrow gorge, and tramped steadily along in deep thought, with bent
+head and wrinkled brows. The way being narrow, and Villiers being
+preoccupied, it was not surprising that as a man was coming down in
+the opposite direction, also preoccupied, they should run against one
+another. When this took place it gave Mr Villiers rather a start, as it
+suggested a possible witness to the deed he contemplated, a thing for
+which he was by no means anxious.
+
+‘Really, sir,’ said the stranger, in a rich, rolling voice, and in a
+dignified tone, ‘I think you might look where you are going. From what
+I saw of you, your eyes were not fixed on the stars, and thus to cause
+your unwatched feet to stumble; in fact,’ said the speaker, looking up
+to the sky, ‘I see no stars whereon you could fix your gaze.’
+
+This somewhat strange mode of remonstrance was delivered in a solemn
+manner, with appropriate gestures, and tickled Mr Villiers so much that
+he leaned up against a great rock abutting on the path, and laughed long
+and loudly.
+
+‘That is right, sir,’ said the stranger, approvingly; ‘laughter is
+to the soul what food is to the body. I think, sir,’ in a Johnsonian
+manner, ‘the thought is a happy one.’
+
+Villiers assented with a nod, and examined the speaker attentively.
+He was a man of medium height, rather portly than otherwise, with a
+clean-shaved face, clearly-cut features, and two merry grey eyes, which
+twinkled like stars as they rested on Villiers. His hair was greyish,
+and inclined to curl, but could not follow its natural inclination owing
+to the unsparing use of the barber’s shears. He wore a coat and trousers
+of white flannel, but no waistcoat; canvas shoes were on his feet, and
+a juvenile straw hat was perched on his iron-grey hair, the rim of
+which encircled his head like a halo of glory. He had small, well-shaped
+hands, one of which grasped a light cane, and the other a white silk
+pocket handkerchief, with which he frequently wiped his brow. He seemed
+very hot, and, leaning on the opposite side of the path against a rock,
+fanned himself first with his handkerchief and then with his hat, all
+the time looking at Mr Villiers with a beaming smile. At last he took a
+silver-mounted flask from his pocket and offered it to Villiers, with a
+pleasant bow.
+
+‘It’s very hot, you know,’ he said, in his rich voice, as Villiers
+accepted the flask.
+
+‘What, this?’ asked Villiers, indicating the flask, as he slowly
+unscrewed the top.
+
+‘No; the day, my boy, the day. Ha! ha! ha!’ said the lively stranger,
+going off into fits of laughter, which vibrated like small thunder amid
+the high rocks surrounding them. ‘Good line for a comedy, I think. Ha!
+ha!--gad, I’ll make a note of it,’ and diving into one of the pockets of
+his coat, he produced therefrom an old letter, on the back of which he
+inscribed the witticism with the stump of a pencil.
+
+Meanwhile Villiers, thinking the flask contained brandy, or at least
+whisky, took a long drink of it, but found to his horror it was merely a
+weak solution of sherry and water.
+
+‘Oh, my poor stomach,’ he gasped, taking the flask from his lips.
+
+‘Colic?’ inquired the stranger with a pleasant smile, as he put back the
+letter and pencil, ‘hot water fomentations are what you need. Wonderful
+cure. Will bring you to life again though you were at your last gasp.
+Ha!’ struck with a sudden idea, ‘“His Last Gasp”, good title for a
+melodrama--mustn’t forget that,’ and out came the letter and the pencil
+again.
+
+Mr Villiers explained in a somewhat gruff tone that it was not colic,
+but that his medical attendant allowed him to drink nothing but whisky.
+
+‘To be taken twenty times a day, I presume,’ observed the stranger, with
+a wink; ‘no offence meant, sir,’ as Villiers showed a disposition to
+resent this, ‘merely a repartee. Good for a comedy, I fancy; what do you
+think?’
+
+‘I think,’ said Mr Villiers, handing him back the flask, ‘that you’re
+very eccentric.’
+
+‘Eccentric?’ replied the other, in an airy tone, ‘not at all, sir. I’m
+merely a civilized being with the veneer off. I am not hidden under an
+artificial coat of manner. No, I laugh--ha! ha! I skip, ha! ha!’ with a
+light trip on one foot. ‘I cry,’ in a dismal tone. ‘In fact, I am a man
+in his natural state--civilized sufficiently, but not over civilized.’
+
+‘What’s your name?’ asked Mr Villiers, wondering whether the portly
+gentleman was mad.
+
+For reply the stranger dived into another pocket, and, bringing to light
+a long bill-poster, held it up before Mr Villiers.
+
+‘Read! mark! and inwardly digest!’ he said in a muffled tone behind the
+bill.
+
+This document set forth in red, black, and blue letters, that the
+celebrated Wopples Family, consisting of twelve star artistes, were
+now in Ballarat, and would that night appear at the Academy of Music in
+their new and original farcical comedy, called ‘The Cruet-Stand’. Act I:
+Pepper! Act II: Mustard! Act III: Vinegar.
+
+‘You, then,’ said Villiers, after he had perused this document, ‘are Mr
+Wopples?’
+
+‘Theodore Wopples, at your service,’ said that gentleman, rolling up the
+bill, then putting it into his pocket, he produced therefrom a batch of
+tickets. ‘One of these,’ handing a ticket to Villiers, ‘will admit you
+to the stalls tonight, where you will see myself and the children in
+“The Cruet-Stand”.’
+
+‘Rather a peculiar title, isn’t it?’ said Villiers, taking the ticket.
+
+‘The play is still more peculiar, sir,’ replied Mr Wopples, restoring
+the bulky packet of tickets to his pocket, ‘dealing as it does with
+the adventures of a youth who hides his father’s will in a cruet stand,
+which is afterwards annexed by a comic bailiff.’
+
+‘But isn’t it rather a curious thing to hide a will in a cruet stand?’
+asked Villiers, smiling at the oddity of the idea.
+
+‘Therein, sir, lies the peculiarity of the play,’ said Mr Wopples,
+grandly. ‘Of course the characters find out in Act I that the will is
+in the cruet stand; in Act II, while pursuing it, they get mixed up
+with the bailiff’s mother-in-law; and in Act III,’ finished Mr Wopples,
+exultingly, ‘they run it to earth in a pawnshop. Oh, I assure you it is
+a most original play.’
+
+‘Very,’ assented the other, dryly; ‘the author must be a man of
+genius--who wrote it?’
+
+‘It’s a translation from the German, sir,’ said Mr Wopples, taking a
+drink of sherry and water, ‘and was originally produced in London as
+“The Pickle Bottle”, the will being hidden with the family onions. In
+Melbourne it was the success of the year under the same title. I,’ with
+an air of genius, ‘called it “The Cruet Stand”.’
+
+‘Then how did you get a hold of it,’ asked Villiers.
+
+‘My wife, sir,’ said the actor, rolling out the words in his deep voice.
+‘A wonderful woman, sir; paid a visit to Melbourne, and there, sir,
+seated at the back of the pit between a coal-heaver and an apple-woman,
+she copied the whole thing down.’
+
+‘But isn’t that rather mean?’
+
+‘Certainly not,’ retorted Wopples, haughtily; ‘the opulent Melbourne
+managers refuse to let me have their new pieces, so I have to take the
+law into my own hands. I’ll get all the latest London successes in the
+same way. We play “Ours” under the title of “The Hero’s Return, or the
+Soldier’s Bride”: we have done the “Silver King” as “The Living Dead”,
+which was an immense success.’
+
+Villiers thought that under such a contradictory title it would rather
+pique the curiosity of the public.
+
+‘To-morrow night,’ pursued Mr Wopples, ‘we act “Called Back”, but it is
+billed as “The Blind Detective”; thus,’ said the actor, with virtuous
+scorn, ‘do we evade the grasping avarice of the Melbourne managers, who
+would make us pay fees for them.’
+
+‘By the way,’ said Mr Wopples, breaking off suddenly in a light and airy
+manner, ‘as I came down here I saw a lovely girl--a veritable fairy,
+sir--with golden hair, and a bright smile that haunts me still. I
+exchanged a few remarks with her regarding the beauty of the day, and
+thus allegorically referred to the beauty of herself--a charming flight
+of fancy, I think, sir.’
+
+‘It must have been Kitty Marchurst,’ said Villiers, not attending to the
+latter portion of Mr Wopples’ remarks.
+
+‘Ah, indeed,’ said Mr Wopples, lightly, ‘how beautiful is the name of
+Kitty; it suggests poetry immediately--for instance:
+
+Kitty, ah Kitty, You are so pretty, Charming and witty, That ‘twere a
+pity I sung not this ditty In praise of my Kitty.
+
+On the spur of the moment, sir, I assure you; does it not remind you of
+Herrick?’
+
+Mr Villiers bluntly said it did not.
+
+‘Ah! perhaps it’s more like Shakespeare?’ observed the actor, quite
+unabashed. ‘You think so?’
+
+Mr Villiers was doubtful, and displayed such anxiety to get away that Mr
+Wopples held out his hand to say goodbye.
+
+‘You’ll excuse me, I know,’ said Mr Wopples, in an apologetic tone,
+‘but the show commences at eight, and it is now half-past six. I trust I
+shall see you tonight.’
+
+‘It’s very kind of you to give me this ticket,’ said Villiers, in whom
+the gentlemanly instinct still survived.
+
+‘Not at all; not at all,’ retorted Mr Wopples, with a wink. ‘Business,
+my boy, business. Always have a good house first night, so must go into
+the highways and byways for an audience. Ha! Biblical illustration, you
+see;’ and with a gracious wave of his hand he skipped lightly down the
+path and disappeared from sight.
+
+It was now getting dark; so Mr Villiers went on his own way, and having
+selected a mining shaft where he could hide the nugget, he climbed up to
+the top of the hill, and lying down under the shadow of a rock where
+he could get a good view of Marchurst’s house, he waited patiently till
+such time as his wife would start for home.
+
+‘I’ll pay you out for all you’ve done,’ he muttered to himself, as he
+lay curled up in the black shadow like a noisome reptile. ‘Tit for tat,
+my lady!--tit for tat!’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+HIGHWAY ROBBERY
+
+
+Dinner at Mr Marchurst’s house was not a particularly exhilarating
+affair. As a matter of fact, though dignified with the name of dinner,
+it was nothing more than one of those mixed meals known as high tea.
+Vandeloup knew this, and, having a strong aversion to the miscellaneous
+collection of victuals which appeared on Mr Marchurst’s table, he dined
+at Craig’s Hotel, where he had a nice little dinner, and drank a pint
+bottle of champagne in order to thoroughly enjoy himself. Madame Midas
+also had a dislike to tea-dinners, but, being a guest, of course had
+to take what was going; and she, Kitty, and Mr Marchurst, were the only
+people present at the festive board. At last Mr Marchurst finished and
+delivered a long address of thanks to Heaven for the good food they had
+enjoyed, which good food, being heavy and badly cooked, was warranted
+to give them all indigestion and turn their praying to cursing. In fact,
+what with strong tea, hurried meals, and no exercise, Mr Marchurst used
+to pass an awful time with the nightmare, and although he was accustomed
+to look upon nightmares as visions, they were due more to dyspepsia than
+inspiration.
+
+After dinner Madame sat and talked with Marchurst, but Kitty went
+outside into the warm darkness of the summer night, and tried to pierce
+the gloom to see if her lover was coming. She was rewarded, for M.
+Vandeloup came up about half-past eight o’clock, having met Pierre as
+arranged. Pierre had found out Villiers in his hiding-place, and was
+watching him while Villiers watched the house. Being, therefore, quite
+easy in his mind that things were going smoothly, Vandeloup came up to
+the porch where Kitty was eagerly waiting for him, and taking her in his
+arms kissed her tenderly. Then, after assuring himself that Madame was
+safe with Marchurst, he put his arm round Kitty’s waist, and they walked
+up and down the path with the warm wind blowing in their faces, and the
+perfume of the wattle blossoms permeating the drowsy air. And yet while
+he was walking up and down, talking lover-like nonsense to the pretty
+girl by his side, Vandeloup knew that Villiers was watching the house
+far off, with evil eyes, and he also knew that Pierre was watching
+Villiers with all the insatiable desire of a wild beast for blood. The
+moon rose, a great shield of silver, and all the ground was strewn with
+the aerial shadows of the trees. The wind sighed through the branches
+of the wattles, and made their golden blossoms tremble in the moonlight,
+while hand in hand the lovers strolled down the path or over the short
+dry grass. Far away in the distance they heard a woman singing, and the
+high sweet voice floated softly towards them through the clear air.
+
+Suddenly they heard the noise of a chair being pushed back inside
+the house, and knew that Madame was getting ready to go. They moved
+simultaneously towards the door, but in the porch Gaston paused for a
+moment, and caught Kitty by the arm.
+
+‘Bebe,’ he whispered softly, ‘when Madame is gone I am going down the
+hill to Ballarat, so you will walk with me a little way, will you not?’
+
+Of course, Kitty was only too delighted at being asked to do so,
+and readily consented, then ran quickly into the house, followed by
+Vandeloup.
+
+‘You here?’ cried Madame, in surprise, pausing for a moment in the act
+of putting on her bonnet. ‘Why are you not at the theatre?’
+
+‘I am going, Madame,’ replied Gaston, calmly, ‘but I thought I would
+come up in order to assist you to put the nugget in the trap.’
+
+‘Oh, Mr Marchurst would have done that,’ said Madame, much gratified
+at Vandeloup’s attention. ‘I’m sorry you should miss your evening’s
+pleasure for that.’
+
+‘Ah, Madame, I do but exchange a lesser pleasure for a greater one,’
+said the gallant Frenchman, with a pleasant smile; ‘but are you sure you
+will not want me to drive you home?’
+
+‘Not at all,’ said Madame, as they all went outside; ‘I am quite safe.’
+
+‘Still, with this,’ said Mr Marchurst, bringing up the rear, with the
+nugget now safely placed in its wooden box, ‘you might be robbed.’
+
+‘Not I,’ replied Mrs Villiers, brightly, as the horse and trap were
+brought round to the gate by Brown. ‘No one knows I’ve got it in the
+trap, and, besides, no one can catch up with Rory when he once starts.’
+
+Marchurst put the nugget under the seat of the trap, but Madame was
+afraid it might slip out by some chance, so she put the box containing
+it in front, and then her feet on the box, so that it was absolutely
+impossible that it could get lost without her knowing. Then saying
+goodbye to everyone, and telling M. Vandeloup to be out at the Pactolus
+before noon the next day, she gathered up the reins and drove slowly
+down the hill, much to the delight of Mr Villiers, who was getting tired
+of waiting. Kitty and Vandeloup strolled off in the moonlight, while
+Marchurst went back to the house.
+
+Villiers arose from his hiding-place, and looked up savagely at the
+serene moon, which was giving far too much light for his scheme to
+succeed. Fortunately, however, he saw a great black cloud rapidly
+advancing which threatened to hide the moon; so he set off down the hill
+at a run in order to catch his wife at a nasty part of the road some
+distance down, where she would be compelled to go slowly, and thus give
+him a chance to spring on the trap and take her by surprise. But quick
+as he was, Pierre was quicker, and both Vandeloup and Kitty could see
+the two black figures running rapidly along in the moonlight.
+
+‘Who are those?’ asked Kitty, with a sudden start. ‘Are they going after
+Madame?’
+
+‘Little goose,’ whispered her lover, with a laugh; ‘if they are they
+will never catch up to that horse. It’s all right, Bebe,’ with a
+reassuring smile, seeing that Kitty still looked somewhat alarmed, ‘they
+are only some miners out on a drunken frolic.’
+
+Thus pacified, Kitty laughed gaily, and they wandered along in the
+moonlight, talking all the fond and foolish nonsense they could think
+of.
+
+Meanwhile the great black cloud had completely hidden the moon, and the
+whole landscape was quite dark. This annoyed Madame, as, depending on
+the moonlight, the lamps of the trap were not lighted, and she could not
+see in the darkness how to drive down a very awkward bit of road that
+she was now on.
+
+It was very steep, and there was a high bank on one side, while on
+the other there was a fall of about ten feet. She felt annoyed at the
+darkness, but on looking up saw that the cloud would soon pass, so drove
+on slowly quite content. Unluckily she did not see the figure on the
+high bank which ran along stealthily beside her, and while turning a
+corner, Mr Villiers--for it was he--dropped suddenly from the bank on to
+the trap, and caught her by the throat.
+
+‘My God!’ cried the unfortunate woman, taken by surprise, and,
+involuntarily tightening the reins, the horse stopped--‘who are you?’
+
+Villiers never said a word, but tightened his grasp on her throat and
+shortened his stick to give her a blow on the head. Fortunately, Madame
+Midas saw his intention, and managed to wrench herself free, so the blow
+aimed at her only slightly touched her, otherwise it would have killed
+her.
+
+As it was, however, she fell forward half stunned, and Villiers,
+hurriedly dropping his stick, bent down and seized the box which he felt
+under his feet and intuitively guessed contained the nugget.
+
+With a cry of triumph he hurled it out on to the road, and sprang out
+after it; but the cry woke his wife from the semi-stupor into which she
+had fallen.
+
+Her head felt dizzy and heavy from the blow, but still she had her
+senses about her, and the moon bursting out from behind a cloud,
+rendered the night as clear as day.
+
+Villiers had picked up the box, and was standing on the edge of the
+bank, just about to leave. The unhappy woman recognised her husband, and
+uttered a cry.
+
+‘You! you!’ she shrieked, wildly, ‘coward! dastard! Give me back that
+nugget!’ leaning out of the trap in her eagerness.
+
+‘I’ll see you damned first,’ retorted Villiers, who, now that he was
+recognised, was utterly reckless as to the result. ‘We’re quits now, my
+lady,’ and he turned to go.
+
+Maddened with anger and disgust, his wife snatched up the stick he had
+dropped, and struck him on the head as he took a step forward. With a
+stifled cry he staggered and fell over the embankment, still clutching
+the box in his arms. Madame let the stick fall, and fell back fainting
+on the seat of the trap, while the horse, startled by the noise, tore
+down the road at a mad gallop.
+
+Madame Midas lay in a dead faint for some time, and when she came to
+herself she was still in the trap, and Rory was calmly trotting along
+the road home. At the foot of the hill, the horse, knowing every inch
+of the way, had settled down into his steady trot for the Pactolus, but
+when Madame grasped the situation, she marvelled to herself how she had
+escaped being dashed to pieces in that mad gallop down the Black Hill.
+
+Her head felt painful from the effects of the blow she had received, but
+her one thought was to get home to Archie and Selina, so gathering up
+the reins she sent Rory along as quickly as she could. When she drove up
+to the gate Archie and Selina were both out to receive her, and when the
+former went to lift her off the trap, he gave a cry of horror at seeing
+her dishevelled appearance and the blood on her face.
+
+‘God save us!’ he cried, lifting her down; ‘what’s come t’ ye, and
+where’s the nugget?’ seeing it was not in the trap.
+
+‘Lost!’ she said, in a stupor, feeling her head swimming, ‘but there’s
+worse.’
+
+‘Worse?’ echoed Selina and Archie, who were both standing looking
+terrified at one another.
+
+‘Yes,’ said Mrs Villiers, in a hollow whisper, leaning forward and
+grasping Archie’s coat, ‘I’ve killed my husband,’ and without another
+word, she fell fainting to the ground.
+
+At the same time Vandeloup and Pierre walked into the bar at the Wattle
+Tree Hotel, and each had a glass of brandy, after which Pierre went to
+his bed, and Vandeloup, humming a gay song, turned on his heel and went
+to the theatre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A GLIMPSE OF BOHEMIA
+
+
+‘AH!’ says Thackeray, pathetically, ‘Prague is a pleasant city, but we
+all lose our way to it late in life.’
+
+The Wopples family were true Bohemians, and had not yet lost their way
+to the pleasant city. They accepted good and bad fortune with wonderful
+equanimity, and if their pockets were empty one day, there was always
+a possibility of their being full the next. When this was the case they
+generally celebrated the event by a little supper, and as their present
+season in Ballarat bid fair to be a successful one, Mr Theodore Wopples
+determined to have a convivial evening after the performance was over.
+
+That the Wopples family were favourites with the Ballarat folk was amply
+seen by the crowded house which assembled to see ‘The Cruet Stand’. The
+audience were very impatient for the curtain to rise, as they did not
+appreciate the overture, which consisted of airs from ‘La Mascotte’,
+adapted for the violin and piano by Mr Handel Wopples, who was the
+musical genius of the family, and sat in the conductor’s seat, playing
+the violin and conducting the orchestra of one, which on this occasion
+was Miss Jemima Wopples, who presided at the piano. The Wopples family
+consisted of twelve star artistes, beginning with Mr Theodore Wopples,
+aged fifty, and ending with Master Sheridan Wopples, aged ten, who did
+the servants’ characters, delivered letters, formed the background in
+tableaux, and made himself generally useful. As the cast of the comedy
+was only eight, two of the family acted as the orchestra, and the
+remaining two took money at the door. When their duties in this respect
+were over for the night, they went into the pit to lead the applause.
+
+At last the orchestra finished, and the curtain drew up, displaying an
+ancient house belonging to a decayed family. The young Squire, present
+head of the decayed family (Mr Cibber Wopples), is fighting with
+his dishonest steward (admirably acted by Mr Dogbery Wopples), whose
+daughter he wants to marry. The dishonest steward, during Act I, without
+any apparent reason, is struck with remorse, and making his will in
+favour of the Squire, departs to America, but afterwards appears in the
+last act as someone else. Leaving his will on the drawing-room table,
+as he naturally would, it is seized by an Eton boy (Master Sheridan
+Wopples), who hides it, for some unexplained reason, in the cruet-stand,
+being the last piece of family plate remaining to the decayed family.
+This is seized by a comic bailiff (Mr Theodore Wopples), who takes it to
+his home; and the decayed family, finding out about the will, start to
+chase the bailiff and recover the stolen property from him. This brought
+the play on to Act II, which consisted mainly of situations arising out
+of the indiscriminate use of doors and windows for entrances and exits.
+The bailiff’s mother-in-law (Mrs Wopples) appears in this act, and,
+being in want of a new dress, takes the cruet stand to her ‘uncle’ and
+pawns it; so Act II ends with a general onslaught of the decayed family
+on Mrs Wopples.
+
+Then the orchestra played the ‘Wopples’ Waltz’, dedicated to Mr Theodore
+Wopples by Mr Handel Wopples, and during the performance of this Mr
+Villiers walked into the theatre. He was a little pale, as was only
+natural after such an adventure as he had been engaged in, but otherwise
+seemed all right. He walked up to the first row of the stalls, and took
+his seat beside a young man of about twenty-five, who was evidently much
+amused at the performance.
+
+‘Hullo, Villiers!’ said this young gentleman, turning round to the new
+arrival, ‘what d’ye think of the play?’
+
+‘Only just got in,’ returned Mr Villiers, sulkily, looking at his
+programme. ‘Any good?’ in a more amiable tone.
+
+‘Well, not bad,’ returned the other, pulling up his collar; ‘I’ve
+seen it in Melbourne, you know--the original, I mean; this is a very
+second-hand affair.’
+
+Mr Villiers nodded, and became absorbed in his programme; so, seeing he
+was disinclined for more conversation, the young gentleman turned his
+attention to the ‘Wopples Waltz’, which was now being played fast and
+furiously by the indefatigable orchestra of two.
+
+Bartholomew Jarper--generally called Barty by his friends--was a bank
+clerk, and had come up to Ballarat on a visit. He was well known in
+Melbourne society, and looked upon himself quite as a leader of fashion.
+He went everywhere, danced divinely--so the ladies said--sang two or
+three little songs, and played the same accompaniment to each of them,
+was seen constantly at the theatres, plunged a little at the races, and
+was altogether an extremely gay dog. It is, then, little to be wondered
+at that, satiated as he was with Melbourne gaiety, he should be vastly
+critical of the humble efforts of the Wopples family to please him. He
+had met Villiers at his hotel, when both of them being inebriated they
+swore eternal friendship. Mr Villiers, however, was very sulky on this
+particular night, for his head still pained him, so Barty stared round
+the house in a supercilious manner, and sucked the nob of his cane for
+refreshment between the acts.
+
+Just as the orchestra were making their final plunge into the finale
+of the ‘Wopples’ Waltz’, M. Vandeloup, cool and calm as usual, strolled
+into the theatre, and, seeing a vacant seat beside Villiers, walked over
+and took it.
+
+‘Good evening, my friend,’ he said, touching Villiers on the shoulder.
+‘Enjoying the play, eh?’
+
+Villiers angrily pushed away the Frenchman’s hand and glared
+vindictively at him.
+
+‘Ah, you still bear malice for that little episode of the ditch,’ said
+Vandeloup with a gay laugh. ‘Come, now, this is a mistake; let us be
+friends.’
+
+‘Go to the devil!’ growled Villiers, crossly.
+
+‘All right, my friend,’ said M. Vandeloup, serenely crossing his legs.
+‘We’ll all end up by paying a visit to that gentleman, but while we are
+on earth we may as well be pleasant. Seen your wife lately?’
+
+This apparently careless inquiry caused Mr Villiers to jump suddenly
+out of his seat, much to the astonishment of Barty, who did not know for
+what reason he was standing up.
+
+‘Ah! you want to look at the house, I suppose,’ remarked M. Vandeloup,
+lazily; ‘the building is extremely ugly, but there are some redeeming
+features in it. I refer, of course, to the number of pretty girls,’ and
+Gaston turned round and looked steadily at a red-haired damsel behind
+him, who blushed and giggled, thinking he was referring to her.
+
+Villiers resumed his seat with a sigh, and seeing that it was quite
+useless to quarrel with Vandeloup, owing to that young man’s coolness,
+resolved to make the best of a bad job, and held out his hand with a
+view to reconciliation.
+
+‘It’s no use fighting with you,’ he said, with an uneasy laugh, as the
+other took his hand, ‘you are so deuced amiable.’
+
+‘I am,’ replied Gaston, calmly examining his programme; ‘I practise all
+the Christian virtues.’
+
+Here Barty, on whom the Frenchman’s appearance and conversation had
+produced an impression, requested Villiers, in a stage whisper, to
+introduce him--which was done. Vandeloup looked the young man coolly up
+and down, and eventually decided that Mr Barty Jarper was a ‘cad’, for
+whatever his morals might be, the Frenchman was a thorough gentleman.
+However, as he was always diplomatic, he did not give utterance to his
+idea, but taking a seat next to Barty’s, he talked glibly to him until
+the orchestra finished with a few final bangs, and the curtain drew up
+on Act III.
+
+The scene was the interior of a pawnshop, where the pawnbroker, a
+gentleman of Hebraic descent (Mr Buckstone Wopples), sells the cruet
+to the dishonest steward, who has come back from America disguised as
+a sailor. The decayed family all rush in to buy the cruet stand, but on
+finding it gone, overwhelm the pawnbroker with reproaches, so that
+to quiet them he hides them all over the shop, on the chance that the
+dishonest steward will come back. The dishonest steward does so,
+and having found the will tears it up on the stage, upon which he
+is assaulted by the decayed family, who rush out from all parts.
+Ultimately, he reveals himself and hands back the cruet stand and the
+estates to the decayed family, after which a general marrying all round
+took place, which proceeding was very gratifying to the boys in the
+gallery, who gave their opinions very freely, and the curtain fell amid
+thunders of applause. Altogether ‘The Cruet Stand’ was a success,
+and would have a steady run of three nights at least, so Mr Wopples
+said--and as a manager of long standing, he was thoroughly well up in
+the subject.
+
+Villiers, Vandeloup, and Barty went out and had a drink, and as none of
+them felt inclined to go to bed, Villiers told them he knew Mr Theodore
+Wopples, and proposed that they should go behind the scenes and see
+him. This was unanimously carried, and after some difficulty with the
+door-keeper--a crusty old man with a red face and white hair, that
+stood straight up in a tuft, and made him look like an infuriated
+cockatoo--they obtained access to the mysterious regions of the stage,
+and there found Master Sheridan Wopples practising a breakdown while
+waiting for the rest of the family to get ready. This charming youth,
+who was small, dried-up and wonderfully sharp, volunteered to guide them
+to his father’s dressing-room, and on knocking at the door Mr Wopples’
+voice boomed out ‘Come in,’ in such an unexpected manner that it made
+them all jump.
+
+On entering the room they found Mr Wopples, dressed in a light tweed
+suit, and just putting on his coat. It was a small room, with a flaring
+gas-jet, under which there was a dressing-table littered over with
+grease, paints, powder, vaseline and wigs, and upon it stood a small
+looking-glass. A great basket-box with the lid wide open stood at the
+end of the room, with a lot of clothes piled up on it, and numerous
+other garments were hung up upon the walls. A washstand, with a basin
+full of soapy water, stood under a curtainless window, and there was
+only one chair to be seen, which Mr Wopples politely offered to his
+visitor. Mr Villiers, however, told him he had brought two gentlemen
+to introduce to him, at which Mr Wopples was delighted; and on the
+introduction taking place, assured both Vandeloup and Barty that it was
+one of the proudest moments of his life--a stock phrase he always used
+when introduced to visitors. He was soon ready, and preceded the party
+out of the room, when he stopped, struck with a sudden idea.
+
+‘I have left the gas burning in my dressing-room,’ he said, in his
+rolling voice, ‘and, if you will permit me, gentlemen, I will go back
+and turn it off.’
+
+This was rather difficult to manage, inasmuch as the stairs were narrow,
+and three people being between Mr Wopples and his dressing-room, he
+could not squeeze past.
+
+Finally the difficulty was settled by Villiers, who was last, and who
+went back and turned out the gas.
+
+When he came down he found Mr Wopples waiting for him.
+
+‘I thank you, sir,’ he said, grandly, ‘and will feel honoured if you
+will give me the pleasure of your company at a modest supper consisting
+principally of cold beef and pickles.’
+
+Of course, they all expressed themselves delighted, and as the entire
+Wopples family had already gone to their hotel, Mr Wopples with his
+three guests went out of the theatre and wended their way towards the
+same place, only dropping into two or three bars on the way to have
+drinks at Barty’s expense.
+
+They soon arrived at the hotel, and having entered, Mr Wopples pushed
+open the door of a room from whence the sound of laughter proceeded, and
+introduced the three strangers to his family. The whole ten, together
+with Mrs Wopples, were present, and were seated around a large table
+plentifully laden with cold beef and pickles, salads, bottles of beer,
+and other things too numerous to mention. Mr Wopples presented them
+first to his wife, a faded, washed-out looking lady, with a perpetual
+simper on her face, and clad in a lavender muslin gown with ribbons of
+the same description, she looked wonderfully light and airy. In fact she
+had a sketchy appearance as if she required to be touched up here and
+there, to make her appear solid, which was of great service to her in
+her theatrical career, as it enabled her to paint on the background of
+herself any character she wished to represent.
+
+‘This,’ said Mr Wopples in his deep voice, holding his wife’s hand as if
+he were afraid she would float upward thro’ the ceiling like a bubble--a
+not unlikely thing seeing how remarkably ethereal she looked; ‘this is
+my flutterer.’
+
+Why he called her his flutterer no one ever knew, unless it was because
+her ribbons were incessantly fluttering; but, had he called her his
+shadow, the name would have been more appropriate.
+
+Mrs Wopples fluttered down to the ground in a bow, and then fluttered up
+again.
+
+‘Gentlemen,’ she said, in a thin, clear voice, ‘you are welcome. Did you
+enjoy the performance?’
+
+‘Madame,’ returned Vandeloup, with a smile, ‘need you ask that?’
+
+A shadowy smile floated over Mrs Wopples’ indistinct features, and then
+her husband introduced the rest of the family in a bunch.
+
+‘Gentlemen,’ he said, waving his hand to the expectant ten, who stood in
+a line of five male and five female, ‘the celebrated Wopples family.’
+
+The ten all simultaneously bowed at this as if they were worked by
+machinery, and then everyone sat down to supper, Mr Theodore Wopples
+taking the head of the table. All the family seemed to admire him
+immensely, and kept their eyes fastened on his face with affectionate
+regard.
+
+‘Pa,’ whispered Miss Siddons Wopples to Villiers, who sat next to her,
+‘is a most wonderful man. Observe his facial expression.’
+
+Villiers observed it, and admitted also in a whisper that it was truly
+marvellous.
+
+Cold beef formed the staple viand on the table, and everyone did full
+justice to it, as also to beer and porter, of which Mr Wopples was very
+generous.
+
+‘I prefer to give my friends good beer instead of bad champagne,’ he
+said, pompously. ‘Ha! ha! the antithesis, I think, is good.’
+
+The Wopples family unanimously agreed that it was excellent, and Mr
+Handel Wopples observed to Barty that his father often made jokes worthy
+of Tom Hood, to which Barty agreed hastily, as he did not know who Tom
+Hood was, and besides was flirting in a mild manner with Miss Fanny
+Wopples, a pretty girl, who did the burlesque business.
+
+‘And are all these big boys and girls yours, Madame?’ asked Vandeloup,
+who was rather astonished at the number of the family, and thought
+some of them might have been hired for theatrical purposes. Mrs Wopples
+nodded affirmatively with a gratified flutter, and her husband endorsed
+it.
+
+‘There are four dead,’ he said, in a solemn voice. ‘Rest their souls.’
+
+All the ten faces round the board reflected the gloom on the parental
+countenance, and for a few moments no one spoke.
+
+‘This,’ said Mr Wopples, looking round with a smile, at which all the
+other faces lighted up, ‘this is not calculated to make our supper
+enjoyable, children. I may tell you that, in consequence of the great
+success of “The Cruet Stand”, we play it again to-morrow night.’
+
+‘Ah!’ said Mr Buckstone Wopples, with his mouth full, ‘I knew it would
+knock ‘em; that business of yours, father, with the writ is simply
+wonderful.’
+
+All the family chorused ‘Yes,’ and Mr Wopples admitted, with a modest
+smile, that it was wonderful.
+
+‘Practise,’ said Mr Wopples, waving a fork with a piece of cold beef at
+the end of it, ‘makes perfect. My dear Vandeloup, if you will permit me
+to call you so, my son Buckstone is truly a wonderful critic.’
+
+Vandeloup smiled at this, and came to the conclusion that the Wopples
+family was a mutual admiration society. However, as it was now nearly
+twelve o’clock, he rose to take his leave.
+
+‘Oh, you’re not going yet,’ said Mr Wopples, upon which all the family
+echoed, ‘Surely, not yet,’ in a most hospitable manner.
+
+‘I must,’ said Vandeloup, with a smile. ‘I know Madame will excuse me,’
+with a bow to Mrs Wopples, who thereupon fluttered nervously; ‘but I
+have to be up very early in the morning.’
+
+‘In that case,’ said Mr Wopples, rising, ‘I will not detain you; early
+to bed and early to rise, you know; not that I believe in it much
+myself, but I understand it is practised with good results by some
+people.’
+
+Vandeloup shook hands with Mr and Mrs Wopples, but feeling unequal to
+taking leave of the ten star artistes in the same way, he bowed in a
+comprehensive manner, whereupon the whole ten arose from their chairs
+and bowed unanimously in return.
+
+‘Good night, Messrs Villiers and Jarper,’ said Vandeloup, going out of
+the door, ‘I will see you to-morrow.’
+
+‘And we also, I hope,’ said Mr Wopples, ungrammatically. ‘Come and see
+“The Cruet Stand” again. I’ll put your name on the free list.’
+
+M. Vandeloup thanked the actor warmly for this kind offer, and took
+himself off; as he passed along the street he heard a burst of laughter
+from the Wopples family, no doubt caused by some witticism of the head
+of the clan.
+
+He walked slowly home to the hotel, smoking a cigarette, and thinking
+deeply. When he arrived at the ‘Wattle Tree’ he saw a light still
+burning in the bar, and, on knocking at the door, was admitted by Miss
+Twexby, who had been making up accounts, and whose virgin head was
+adorned with curl-papers.
+
+‘My!’ said this damsel, when she saw him, ‘you are a nice young man
+coming home at this hour--twelve o’clock. See?’ and, as a proof of her
+assertion, she pointed to the clock.
+
+‘Were you waiting up for me, dear?’ asked Vandeloup, audaciously.
+
+‘Not I,’ retorted Miss Twexby, tossing her curl-papers; ‘I’ve been
+attending to par’s business; but, oh, gracious!’ with a sudden
+recollection of her head-gear, ‘you’ve seen me in undress.’
+
+‘And you look more charming than ever,’ finished Vandeloup, as he took
+his bedroom candle from her. ‘I will see you in the morning. My friend
+still asleep, I suppose?’
+
+‘I’m sure I don’t know. I haven’t seen him all the evening,’ replied
+Miss Twexby, tossing her head, ‘now, go away. You’re a naughty, wicked,
+deceitful thing. I declare I’m quite afraid of you.’
+
+‘There’s no need, I assure you,’ replied Vandeloup, in a slightly
+sarcastic voice, as he surveyed the plain-looking woman before him; ‘you
+are quite safe from me.’
+
+He left the bar, whistling an air, while the fair Martha returned to
+her accounts, and wondered indignantly whether his last remark was a
+compliment or otherwise.
+
+The conclusion she came to was that it was otherwise, and she retired to
+bed in a very wrathful frame of mind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE
+
+
+Madame Midas, as may be easily guessed, did not pass a very pleasant
+night after the encounter with Villiers. Her head was very painful with
+the blow he had given her, and added to this she was certain she had
+killed him.
+
+Though she hated the man who had ruined her life, and who had tried to
+rob her, still she did not care about becoming his murderess, and the
+thought was madness to her. Not that she was afraid of punishment,
+for she had only acted in self-defence, and Villiers, not she, was the
+aggressor.
+
+Meanwhile she waited to hear if the body had been found, for ill news
+travels fast; and as everyone knew Villiers was her husband, she was
+satisfied that when the corpse was found she would be the first to be
+told about it.
+
+But the day wore on, and no news came, so she asked Archie to go into
+Ballarat and see if the discovery had been made.
+
+‘’Deed, mem,’ said Archie, in a consoling tone, ‘I’m thinkin’ there’s na
+word at all. Maybe ye only stapped his pranks for a wee bit, and he’s a’
+richt.’
+
+Madame shook her head.
+
+‘I gave him such a terrible blow,’ she said, mournfully, ‘and he fell
+like a stone over the embankment.’
+
+‘He didna leave go the nugget, onyhow, ye ken,’ said Archie, dryly; ‘so
+he couldna hae been verra far gone, but I’ll gang intil the toun and see
+what I can hear.’
+
+There was no need for this, however, for just as McIntosh got to the
+door, Vandeloup, cool and complacent, sauntered in, but stopped short at
+the sight of Mrs Villiers sitting in the arm-chair looking so ill.
+
+‘My dear Madame,’ he cried in dismay, going over to her, ‘what is the
+matter with you?’
+
+‘Matter enow,’ growled McIntosh, with his hand on the door handle; ‘that
+deil o’ a’ husband o’ her’s has robbed her o’ the nugget.’
+
+‘Yes, and I killed him,’ said Madame between her clenched teeth.
+
+‘The deuce you did,’ said Vandeloup, in surprise, taking a seat, ‘then
+he was the liveliest dead man I ever saw.’
+
+‘What do you mean?’ asked Madame, leaning forward, with both hands
+gripping the arms of her chair; ‘is--is he alive?’
+
+‘Of course he is,’ began Vandeloup; ‘I--’ but here he was stopped by a
+cry from Selina, for her mistress had fallen back in her chair in a dead
+faint.
+
+Hastily waving for the men to go away, she applied remedies, and Madame
+soon revived. Vandeloup had gone outside with McIntosh, and was asking
+him about the robbery, and then told him in return about Villiers’
+movements on that night. Selina called them in again, as Madame wanted
+to hear all about her husband, and Vandeloup was just entering when he
+turned to McIntosh.
+
+‘Oh, by the way,’ he said, in a vexed tone, ‘Pierre will not be at work
+today.’
+
+‘What for no?’ asked McIntosh, sharply.
+
+‘He’s drunk,’ replied Vandeloup, curtly, ‘and he’s likely to keep the
+game up for a week.’
+
+‘We’ll see about that,’ said Mr McIntosh, wrathfully; ‘I tauld yon gowk
+o’ a Twexby to give the mon food and drink, but I didna tell him to mack
+the deil fu’.’
+
+‘It wasn’t the landlord’s fault,’ said Vandeloup; ‘I gave Pierre
+money--if I had known what he wanted it for I wouldn’t have done it--but
+it’s too late now.’
+
+McIntosh was about to answer sharply as to the folly of giving the man
+money, when Madame’s voice was heard calling them impatiently, and they
+both had to go in at once.
+
+Mrs Villiers was ghastly pale, but there was a look of determination
+about her which showed that she was anxious to hear all. Pointing to a
+seat near herself she said to Vandeloup--
+
+‘Tell me everything that happened from the time I left you last night.’
+
+‘My faith,’ replied Vandeloup, carelessly taking the seat, ‘there isn’t
+much to tell--I said goodbye to Monsieur Marchurst and Mademoiselle
+Kitty and went down to Ballarat.’
+
+‘How was it you did not pass me on the way?’ asked Madame, quickly
+fixing her piercing eyes on him. ‘I drove slowly.’
+
+He bore her scrutiny without blenching or even changing colour.
+
+‘Easily enough,’ he said, calmly, ‘I went the other direction instead of
+the usual way, as it was the shortest route to the place I was stopping
+at.’
+
+‘The “Wattle Tree”, ye ken, Madame,’ interposed McIntosh.
+
+‘I had something to eat there,’ pursued Vandeloup, ‘and then went to the
+theatre. Your husband came in towards the end of the performance and sat
+next to me.’
+
+‘Was he all right?’ asked Mrs Villiers, eagerly.
+
+Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.
+
+‘I didn’t pay much attention to him,’ he said, coolly; ‘he seemed to
+enjoy the play, and afterwards, when we went to supper with the actors,
+he certainly ate very heartily for a dead man. I don’t think you need
+trouble yourself, Madame; your husband is quite well.’
+
+‘What time did you leave him?’ she asked, after a pause.
+
+‘About twenty minutes to twelve, I think,’ replied Vandeloup, ‘at least,
+I reached the “Wattle Tree” at about twelve o’clock, and I think it did
+take twenty minutes to walk there. Monsieur Villiers stopped behind with
+the theatre people to enjoy himself.’
+
+Enjoying himself, and she, thinking him dead, was crying over his
+miserable end; it was infamous! Was this man a monster who could thus
+commit a crime one moment and go to an amusement the next? It seemed
+like it, and Mrs Villiers felt intense disgust towards her husband
+as she sat with tightly clenched hands and dry eyes listening to
+Vandeloup’s recital.
+
+‘Weel,’ said Mr McIntosh at length, rubbing his scanty hair, ‘the deil
+looks after his ain, as we read in Screepture, and this child of Belial
+is flourishing like a green bay tree by mony waters; but we ma’ cut it
+doon an’ lay an axe at the root thereof.’
+
+‘And how do you propose to chop him down?’ asked Vandeloup, flippantly.
+
+‘Pit him intil the Tolbooth for rinnin’ awa’ wi’ the nugget,’ retorted
+Mr McIntosh, vindictively.
+
+‘A very sensible suggestion,’ said Gaston, approvingly, smoothing his
+moustache. ‘What do you say, Madame?’
+
+She shook her head.
+
+‘Let him keep his ill-gotten gains,’ she said, resignedly. ‘Now that
+he has obtained what he wanted, perhaps he’ll leave me alone; I will do
+nothing.’
+
+‘Dae naethin’!’ echoed Archie, in great wrath. ‘Will ye let that
+freend o’ Belzibub rin awa’ wid a three hun’red ounces of gold an’ dae
+naethin’? Na, na, ye mauna dae it, I tell ye. Oh, aye, ye may sit
+there, mem, and glower awa’ like a boggle, but ye aren’a gangin’ to make
+yoursel’ a martyr for yon. Keep the nugget? I’ll see him damned first.’
+
+This was the first time that Archie had ever dared to cross Mrs
+Villiers’ wishes, and she stared in amazement at the unwonted spectacle.
+This time, however, McIntosh found an unexpected ally in Vandeloup, who
+urged that Villiers should be prosecuted.
+
+‘He is not only guilty of robbery, Madame,’ said the young Frenchman,
+‘but also of an attempt to murder you, and while he is allowed to go
+free, your life is not safe.’
+
+Selina also contributed her mite of wisdom in the form of a proverb:--
+
+‘A stitch in time saves nine,’ intimating thereby that Mr Villiers
+should be locked up and never let out again, in case he tried the same
+game on with the next big nugget found.
+
+Madame thought for a few moments, and, seeing that they were all
+unanimous, she agreed to the proposal that Villiers should be
+prosecuted, with the stipulation, however, that he should be first
+written to and asked to give up the nugget. If he did, and promised to
+leave the district, no further steps would be taken; but if he declined
+to do so, his wife would prosecute him with the uttermost rigour of
+the law. Then Madame dismissed them, as she was anxious to get a little
+sleep, and Vandeloup went to the office to write the letter, accompanied
+by McIntosh, who wanted to assist in its composition.
+
+Meanwhile there was another individual in Ballarat who was much
+interested in Villiers, and this kind-hearted gentleman was none other
+than Slivers. Villiers was accustomed to come and sit in his office
+every morning, and talk to him about things in general, and the Pactolus
+claim in particular. On this morning, however, he did not arrive, and
+Slivers was much annoyed thereat. He determined to give Villiers a piece
+of his mind when he did see him. He went about his business at ‘The
+Corner’, bought some shares, sold others, and swindled as many people
+as he was able, then came back to his office and waited in all the
+afternoon for his friend, who, however, did not come.
+
+Slivers was just going out to seek him when the door of his office was
+violently flung open, and a tall, raw-boned female entered in a very
+excited manner. Dressed in a dusty black gown, with a crape bonnet
+placed askew on her rough hair, this lady banged on Slivers’ table a
+huge umbrella and demanded where Villiers was.
+
+‘I don’t know,’ snapped Slivers, viciously; ‘how the devil should I?’
+
+‘Don’t swear at me, you wooden-legged little monster,’ cried the virago,
+with another bang of the umbrella, which raised such a cloud of dust
+that it nearly made Slivers sneeze his head off. ‘He ain’t been home
+all night, and you’ve been leading him into bad habits, you cork-armed
+libertine.’
+
+‘Hasn’t been home all night, eh?’ said Slivers, sitting up quickly,
+while Billy, who had been considerably alarmed at the gaunt female,
+retired to the fireplace, and tried to conceal himself up the chimney.
+‘May I ask who you are?’
+
+‘You may,’ said the angry lady, folding her arms and holding the
+umbrella in such an awkward manner that she nearly poked Slivers’
+remaining eye out.
+
+‘Well, who are you?’ snapped Slivers, crossly, after waiting a
+reasonable time for an answer and getting none.
+
+‘I’m his landlady,’ retorted the other, with a defiant snort. ‘Matilda
+Cheedle is my name, and I don’t care who knows it.’
+
+‘It’s not a pretty name,’ snarled Slivers, prodding the ground with his
+wooden leg, as he always did when angry. ‘Neither are you. What do
+you mean by banging into my office like an insane giraffe?’--this in
+allusion to Mrs Cheedle’s height.
+
+‘Oh, go on! go on!’ said that lady defiantly; ‘I’ve heard it all before;
+I’m used to it; but here I sit until you tell me where my lodger is;’
+and suiting the action to the word, Mrs Cheedle sat down in a chair with
+such a bang that Billy gave a screech of alarm and said, ‘Pickles!’
+
+‘Pickles, you little bag of bones!’ cried Mrs Cheedle, who thought that
+the word had proceeded from Slivers, ‘don’t you call me “Pickles”--but
+I’m used to it. I’m a lonely woman since Cheedle went to the cemetery,
+and I’m always being insulted. Oh, my nerves are shattered under such
+treatment’--this last because she saw the whisky bottle on the table,
+and thought she might get some.
+
+Slivers took the hint, and filling a glass with whisky and water passed
+it to her, and Mrs Cheedle, with many protestations that she never
+touched spirits, drank it to the last drop.
+
+‘Was Villiers always in the habit of coming home?’ he asked.
+
+‘Always,’ replied Mrs Cheedle; ‘he’s bin with me eighteen months and
+never stopped out one night; if he had,’ grimly, ‘I’d have known the
+reason of his rampagin’.’
+
+‘Strange,’ said Slivers, thoughtfully, fixing Mrs Cheedle with his one
+eye; ‘when did you see him last?’
+
+‘About three o’clock yesterday,’ said Mrs Cheedle, looking sadly at a
+hole in one of her cotton gloves; ‘his conduct was most extraordinary;
+he came home at that unusual hour, changed his linen clothes for a dark
+suit, and, after he had eaten something, put on another hat, and walked
+off with a stick under his arm.’
+
+‘And you’ve never seen him since?’
+
+‘Not a blessed sight of him,’ replied Mrs Cheedle; ‘you don’t think
+any harm’s come to him, sir? Not as I care much for him--the drunken
+wretch--but still he’s a lodger and owes me rent, so I don’t know but
+what he might be off to Melbourne without paying, and leaving his boxes
+full of bricks behind.’
+
+‘I’ll have a look round, and if I see him I’ll send him home,’ said
+Slivers, rising to intimate the interview was at end.
+
+‘Very well, mind you do,’ said the widow, rising and putting the empty
+glass on the table, ‘send him home at once and I’ll speak to him. And
+perhaps,’ with a bashful glance, ‘you wouldn’t mind seeing me up the
+street a short way, as I’m alone and unprotected.’
+
+‘Stuff!’ retorted Slivers, ungraciously, ‘there’s plenty of light, and
+you are big enough to look after yourself.’
+
+At this Mrs Cheedle snorted loudly like a war-horse, and flounced out
+of the office in a rage, after informing Slivers in a loud voice that he
+was a selfish, cork-eyed little viper, from which confusion of words it
+will easily be seen that the whisky had taken effect on the good lady.
+
+When she had gone Slivers locked up his office, and sallied forth to
+find the missing Villiers, but though he went all over town to that
+gentleman’s favourite haunts, mostly bars, yet he could see nothing of
+him; and on making inquiries heard that he had not been seen in Ballarat
+all day. This was so contrary to Villiers’ general habits that Slivers
+became suspicious, and as he walked home thinking over the subject he
+came to the conclusion there was something up.
+
+‘If,’ said Slivers, pausing on the pavement and addressing a street
+lamp, ‘he doesn’t turn up to-morrow I’ll have a look for him again. If
+that don’t do I’ll tell the police, and I shouldn’t wonder,’ went on
+Slivers, musingly, ‘I shouldn’t wonder if they called on Madame Midas.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+SLIVERS IN SEARCH OF EVIDENCE
+
+
+Slivers was puzzled over Villiers’ disappearance, so he determined to
+go in search of evidence against Madame Midas, though for what reason he
+wanted evidence against her no one but himself--and perhaps Billy--knew.
+But then Slivers always was an enigma regarding his reasons for doing
+things, and even the Sphinx would have found him a difficult riddle to
+solve.
+
+The reasons he had for turning detective were simply these: It soon
+became known that Madame Midas had been robbed by her husband of the
+famous nugget, and great was the indignation of everyone against Mr
+Villiers. That gentleman would have fared very badly if he had made his
+appearance, but for some reason or another he did not venture forth. In
+fact, he had completely disappeared, and where he was no one knew. The
+last person who saw him was Barty Jarper, who left him at the corner of
+Lydiard and Sturt Streets, when Mr Villiers had announced his intention
+of going home. Mrs Cheedle, however, asserted positively that she had
+never set eyes on him since the time she stated to Slivers, and as it
+was now nearly two weeks since he had disappeared things were beginning
+to look serious. The generally received explanation was that he had
+bolted with the nugget, but as he could hardly dispose of such a large
+mass of gold without suspicion, and as the police both in Ballarat and
+Melbourne had made inquiries, which proved futile, this theory began to
+lose ground.
+
+It was at this period that Slivers asserted himself--coming forward, he
+hinted in an ambiguous sort of way that Villiers had met with foul play,
+and that some people had their reasons for wishing to get rid of him.
+This was clearly an insinuation against Madame Midas, but everyone
+refused to believe such an impossible story, so Slivers determined to
+make good his words, and went in search of evidence.
+
+The Wopples Family having left Ballarat, Slivers was unable to see Mr
+Theodore Wopples, who had been in Villiers’ company on the night of his
+disappearance.
+
+Mr Barty Jarper, however, had not yet departed, so Slivers waylaid him,
+and asked him in a casual way to drop into his office and have a drink,
+with a view of finding out from him all the events of that night.
+
+Barty was on his way to a lawn tennis party, and was arrayed in a
+flannel suit of many colours, with his small, white face nearly hidden
+under a large straw hat. Being of a social turn of mind, he did not
+refuse Slivers’ invitation, but walked into the dusty office and
+assisted himself liberally to the whisky.
+
+‘Here’s fun, old cock!’ he said, in a free and easy manner, raising his
+glass to his lips; ‘may your shadow never be less.’
+
+Slivers hoped devoutly that his shadow never would be less, as that
+would involve the loss of several other limbs, which he could ill
+spare; so he honoured Mr Jarper’s toast with a rasping little laugh, and
+prepared to talk.
+
+‘It’s very kind of you to come and talk to an old chap like me,’ said
+Slivers, in as amiable a tone as he could command, which was not much.
+‘You’re such a gay young fellow!’
+
+Mr Jarper acknowledged modestly that he was gay, but that he owed
+certain duties to society, and had to be mildly social.
+
+‘And so handsome!’ croaked Slivers, winking with his one eye at Billy,
+who sat on the table. ‘Oh, he’s all there, ain’t he, Billy?’
+
+Billy, however, did not agree to this, and merely observed ‘Pickles,’ in
+a disbelieving manner.
+
+Mr Jarper felt rather overcome by this praise, and blushed in a modest
+way, but felt that he could not return the compliment with any degree of
+truth, as Slivers was not handsome, neither was he all there.
+
+He, however, decided that Slivers was an unusually discerning person,
+and worthy to talk to, so prepared to make himself agreeable.
+
+Slivers, who had thus gained the goodwill of the young man by flattery,
+plunged into the subject of Villiers’ disappearance.
+
+‘I wonder what’s become of Villiers,’ he said, artfully pushing the
+whisky bottle toward Barty.
+
+‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ said Barty in a languid, used-up sort of voice,
+pouring himself out some more whisky, ‘I haven’t seen him since last
+Monday week.’
+
+‘Where did you leave him on that night?’ asked Slivers.
+
+‘At the corner of Sturt and Lydiard Streets.’
+
+‘Early in the morning, I suppose?’
+
+‘Yes--pretty early--about two o’clock, I think.’
+
+‘And you never saw him after that?’
+
+‘Not a sight of him,’ replied Barty; ‘but, I say, why all this
+thusness?’
+
+‘I’ll tell you after you have answered my questions,’ retorted Slivers,
+rudely, ‘but I’m not asking out of curiosity--its business.’
+
+Barty thought that Slivers was very peculiar, but determined to humour
+him, and to take his leave as early as possible.
+
+‘Well, go on,’ he said, drinking his whisky, ‘I’ll answer.’
+
+‘Who else was with you and Villiers on that night?’ asked Slivers in a
+magisterial kind of manner.
+
+‘A French fellow called Vandeloup.’
+
+‘Vandeloup!’ echoed Slivers in surprise; ‘oh, indeed! what the devil was
+he doing?’
+
+‘Enjoying himself,’ replied Barty, coolly; ‘he came into the theatre and
+Villiers introduced him to me; then Mr Wopples asked us all to supper.’
+
+‘You went, of course?’
+
+‘Rather, old chap; what do you take us for?’--this from Barty, with a
+knowing wink.
+
+‘What time did Vandeloup leave?’ asked Slivers, not paying any attention
+to Barty’s pantomime.
+
+‘About twenty minutes to twelve.’
+
+‘Oh! I suppose that was because he had to drive out to the Pactolus?’
+
+‘Not such a fool, dear boy; he stayed all night in town.’
+
+‘Oh!’ ejaculated Slivers, in an excited manner, drumming on the table
+with his fingers, ‘where did he stay?’
+
+‘At the Wattle Tree Hotel.’
+
+Slivers mentally made a note of this, and determined to go there and
+find out at what time Vandeloup had come home on the night in question,
+for this suspicious old man had now got it into his head that Vandeloup
+was in some way responsible for Villiers’ disappearance.
+
+‘Where did Villiers say he was going when he left you?’ he asked.
+
+‘Straight home.’
+
+‘Humph! Well, he didn’t go home at all.’
+
+‘Didn’t he?’ echoed Barty, in some astonishment. ‘Then what’s become of
+him? Men don’t disappear in this mysterious way without some reason.’
+
+‘Ah, but there is a reason,’ replied Slivers, bending across the table
+and clawing at the papers thereon with the lean fingers of his one hand.
+
+‘Why! what do you think is the reason?’ faltered Barty, letting his
+eye-glass drop out of his eye, and edging his chair further away from
+this terrible old man.
+
+‘Murder!’ hissed the other through his thin lips. ‘He’s been murdered!’
+
+‘Lord!’ ejaculated Barty, jumping up from his chair in alarm; ‘you’re
+going too far, old chap.’
+
+‘I’m going further,’ retorted Slivers, rising from his chair and
+stumping up and down the room; ‘I’m going to find out who did it, and
+then I’ll grind her to powder; I’ll twist her neck off, curse her.’
+
+‘Is it a woman?’ asked Barty, who now began to think of making a
+retreat, for Slivers, with his one eye blazing, and his cork arm
+swinging rapidly to and fro, was not a pleasant object to contemplate.
+
+This unguarded remark recalled Slivers to himself.
+
+‘That’s what I want to find out,’ he replied, sulkily, going back to his
+chair. ‘Have some more whisky?’
+
+‘No, thanks,’ answered Barty, going to the door, ‘I’m late as it is for
+my engagement; ta, ta, old chap, I hope you’ll drop on the he or she
+you’re looking for; but you’re quite wrong, Villiers has bolted with the
+nugget, and that’s a fact, sir,’ and with an airy wave of his hand Barty
+went out, leaving Slivers in anything but a pleasant temper.
+
+‘Bah! you peacock,’ cried this wicked old man, banging his wooden leg
+against the table, ‘you eye-glass idiot--you brainless puppy--I’m wrong,
+am I? we’ll see about that, you rag-shop.’ This last in allusion to
+Barty’s picturesque garb. ‘I’ve found out all I want from you, and I’ll
+track her down, and put her in gaol, and hang her--hang her till she’s
+as dead as a door nail.’
+
+Having given vent to this pleasant sentiment, Slivers put on his hat,
+and, taking his stick, walked out of his office, but not before Billy
+saw his intention and had climbed up to his accustomed place on the old
+man’s shoulder. So Slivers stumped along the street, with the cockatoo
+on his shoulder, looking like a depraved Robinson Crusoe, and took his
+way to the Wattle Tree Hotel.
+
+‘If,’ argued Slivers to himself, as he pegged bravely along, ‘if
+Villiers wanted to get rid of the nugget he’d have come to me, for he
+knew I’d keep quiet and tell no tales. Well, he didn’t come to me, and
+there’s no one else he could go to. They’ve been looking for him all
+over the shop, and they can’t find him; he can’t be hiding or he’d have
+let me know; there’s only one explanation--he’s been murdered--but not
+for the gold--oh, dear no--for nobody knew he had it. Who wanted him out
+of the way?--his wife. Would she stick at anything?--I’m damned if she
+would. So it’s her work. The only question is did she do it personally
+or by deputy. I say deputy, ‘cause she’d be too squeamish to do it
+herself. Who would she select as deputy?--Vandeloup! Why?--‘cause he’d
+like to marry her for her money. Yes, I’m sure it’s him. Things look
+black against him: he stayed in town all night, a thing he never
+did before--leaves the supper at a quarter to twelve, so as to avoid
+suspicion; waits till Villiers comes out at two in the morning and kills
+him. Aha! my handsome jackadandy,’ cried Slivers, viciously, suddenly
+stopping and shaking his stick at an imaginary Vandeloup; ‘I’ve got you
+under my thumb, and I’ll crush the life out of you--and of her also, if
+I can;’ and with this amiable resolution Slivers resumed his way.
+
+Slivers’ argument was plausible, but there were plenty of flaws in it,
+which, however, he did not stop to consider, so carried away was he by
+his anger against Madame Midas. He stumped along doggedly, revolving the
+whole affair in his mind, and by the time he arrived at the Wattle Tree
+Hotel he had firmly persuaded himself that Villiers was dead, and that
+Vandeloup had committed the crime at the instigation of Mrs Villiers.
+
+He found Miss Twexby seated in the bar, with a decidedly cross face,
+which argued ill for anyone who held converse with her that day; but as
+Slivers was quite as crabbed as she was, and, moreover, feared neither
+God nor man--much less a woman--he tackled her at once.
+
+‘Where’s your father?’ he asked, abruptly, leaning on his stick and
+looking intently at the fair Martha’s vinegary countenance.
+
+‘Asleep!’ snapped that damsel, jerking her head in the direction of the
+parlour; ‘what do you want?’--very disdainfully.
+
+‘A little civility in the first place,’ retorted Slivers, rudely,
+sitting down on a bench that ran along the wall, and thereby causing his
+wooden leg to stick straight out, which, being perceived by Billy, he
+descended from the old man’s shoulder and turned the leg into a perch,
+where he sat and swore at Martha.
+
+‘You wicked old wretch,’ said Miss Twexby, viciously--her nose getting
+redder with suppressed excitement--‘go along with you, and take that
+irreligious parrot with you, or I’ll wake my par.’
+
+‘He won’t thank you for doing so,’ replied Slivers, coolly; ‘I’ve called
+to see him about some new shares just on the market, and if you don’t
+treat me with more respect I’ll go, and he’ll be out of a good thing.’
+
+Now, Miss Twexby knew that Slivers was in the habit of doing business
+with her parent, and, moreover was a power in the share market, so she
+did not deem it diplomatic to go too far, and bottling up her wrath for
+a future occasion, when no loss would be involved, she graciously asked
+Slivers what he’d be pleased to have.
+
+‘Whisky,’ said Slivers, curtly, leaning his chin on his stick, and
+following her movements with his one eye. ‘I say!’
+
+‘Well?’ asked Miss Twexby, coming from behind the bar with a glass and a
+bottle of whisky, ‘what do you say?’
+
+‘How’s that good-looking Frenchman?’ asked Slivers, pouring himself out
+some liquor, and winking at her in a rakish manner with his one eye.
+
+‘How should I know?’ snapped Martha, angrily, ‘he comes here to see that
+friend of his, and then clears out without as much as a good day; a nice
+sort of friend, indeed,’ wrathfully, ‘stopping here nearly two weeks
+and drunk all the time; he’ll be having delirious trimmings before he’s
+done.’
+
+‘Who wills?’ said Slivers, taking a sip of his whisky and water.
+
+‘Why, that other Frenchman!’ retorted Martha, going to her place behind
+the bar, ‘Peter something; a low, black wretch, all beard, with no
+tongue, and a thirst like a lime-kiln.’
+
+‘Oh, the dumb man.’
+
+Miss Twexby nodded.
+
+‘That’s him,’ she said, triumphantly, ‘he’s been here for the last two
+weeks.’
+
+‘Drunk, I think you said,’ remarked Slivers, politely.
+
+Martha laughed scornfully, and took out some sewing.
+
+‘I should just think so,’ she retorted, tossing her head, ‘he does
+nothing but drink all day, and run after people with that knife.’
+
+‘Very dangerous,’ observed Slivers, gravely shaking his head; ‘why don’t
+you get rid of him?’
+
+‘So we are,’ said Miss Twexby, biting off a bit of cotton, as if she
+wished it were Pierre’s head; ‘he is going down to Melbourne the day
+after to-morrow.’
+
+Slivers got weary of hearing about Pierre, and plunged right off into
+the object of his visit.
+
+‘That Vandeloup,’ he began.
+
+‘Well?’ said Miss Twexby, letting the work fall on her lap.
+
+‘What time did he come home the night he stopped here?’
+
+‘Twelve o’clock.’
+
+‘Get along with you,’ said Slivers, in disgust, ‘you mean three
+o’clock.’
+
+‘No, I don’t,’ retorted Martha, indignantly; ‘you’ll be telling me I
+don’t know the time next.’
+
+‘Did he go out again?
+
+‘No, he went to bed.’
+
+This quite upset Slivers’ idea--as if Vandeloup had gone to bed at
+twelve, he certainly could not have murdered Villiers nearly a mile away
+at two o’clock in the morning. Slivers was puzzled, and then the light
+broke on him--perhaps it was the dumb man.
+
+‘Did the other stay here all night also?’
+
+Miss Twexby nodded. ‘Both in the same room,’ she answered.
+
+‘What time did the dumb chap come in?’
+
+‘Half-past nine.’
+
+Here was another facer for Slivers--as it could not have been Pierre.
+
+‘Did he go to bed?’
+
+‘Straight.’
+
+‘And did not leave the house again?’
+
+‘Of course not,’ retorted Miss Twexby, impatiently; ‘do you think I’m a
+fool--no one goes either in or out of this house without my knowing
+it. The dumb devil went to bed at half-past nine, and Mr Vandeloup at
+half-past twelve, and they neither of them came out of their rooms till
+next morning.’
+
+‘How do you know Vandeloup was in at twelve?’ asked Slivers, still
+unconvinced.
+
+‘Drat the man, what’s he worryin’ about?’ rejoined Miss Twexby,
+snappishly; ‘I let him in myself.’
+
+This clearly closed the subject, and Slivers arose to his feet in great
+disgust, upsetting Billy on to the floor.
+
+‘Devil!’ shrieked Billy, as he dropped. ‘Oh, my precious mother.
+Devil--devil--devil--you’re a liar--you’re a liar--Bendigo and
+Ballarat--Ballarat and Bendigo--Pickles!’
+
+Having thus run through a portion of his vocabulary, he subsided into
+silence, and let Slivers pick him up in order to go home.
+
+‘A nice pair you are,’ muttered Martha, grimly, looking at them. ‘I wish
+I had the thrashing of you. Won’t you stay and see par?’ she called out
+as Slivers departed.
+
+‘I’ll come to-morrow,’ answered Slivers, angrily, for he felt very much
+out of temper; then, in a lower voice, he observed to himself, ‘I’d like
+to put that jade in a teacup and crush her.’
+
+He stumped home in silence, thinking all the time; and it was only when
+he arrived back in his office that he gave utterance to his thoughts.
+
+‘It couldn’t have been either of the Frenchmen,’ he said, lighting his
+pipe. ‘She must have done it herself.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+MCINTOSH SPEAKS HIS MIND
+
+
+It was some time before Mrs Villiers recovered from the shock caused by
+her encounter with her husband. The blow he had struck her on the side
+of the head turned out to be more serious than was at first anticipated,
+and Selina deemed it advisable that a doctor should be called in.
+So Archie went into Ballarat, and returned to the Pactolus with Dr
+Gollipeck, an eccentric medical practitioner, whose peculiarities were
+the talk of the city.
+
+Dr Gollipeck was tall and lank, with an unfinished look about him, as
+if Nature in some sudden freak had seized an incomplete skeleton from a
+museum and hastily covered it with parchment. He dressed in rusty black,
+wore dingy cotton gloves, carried a large white umbrella, and surveyed
+the world through the medium of a pair of huge spectacles. His clothes
+were constantly coming undone, as he scorned the use of buttons, and
+preferred pins, which were always scratching his hands. He spoke very
+little, and was engaged in composing an erudite work on ‘The Art of
+Poisoning, from Borgia to Brinvilliers’.
+
+Selina was not at all impressed with his appearance, and mentally
+decided that a good wash and a few buttons would improve him
+wonderfully. Dr Gollipeck, however, soon verified the adage that
+appearances are deceptive--as Selina afterwards remarked to Archie--by
+bringing Madame Midas back to health in a wonderfully short space of
+time. She was now convalescent, and, seated in the arm-chair by the
+window, looked dreamily at the landscape. She was thinking of her
+husband, and in what manner he would annoy her next; but she half
+thought--and the wish was father to the half thought--that having got
+the nugget he would now leave her alone.
+
+She knew that he had not been in Ballarat since that fatal night when he
+had attacked her, but imagined that he was merely hiding till such time
+as the storm should blow over and he could enjoy his ill-gotten gains in
+safety. The letter asking him to give up the nugget and ordering him
+to leave the district under threat of prosecution had been sent to his
+lodgings, but was still lying there unopened. The letters accumulated
+into quite a little pile as weeks rolled on, yet Mr Villiers, if he was
+alive, made no sign, and if he was dead, no traces had been found of his
+body. McIntosh and Slivers had both seen the police about the affair,
+one in order to recover the nugget, the other actuated by bitter enmity
+against Madame Midas. To Slivers’ hints, that perhaps Villiers’ wife
+knew more than she chose to tell, the police turned a deaf ear, as they
+assured Slivers that they had made inquiries, and on the authority of
+Selina and McIntosh could safely say that Madame Midas had been home
+that night at half-past nine o’clock, whereas Villiers was still alive
+in Ballarat--as could be proved by the evidence of Mr Jarper--at two
+o’clock in the morning. So, foiled on every side in his endeavours to
+implicate Mrs Villiers in her husband’s disappearance, Slivers retired
+to his office, and, assisted by his ungodly cockatoo, passed many hours
+in swearing at his bad luck and in cursing the absent Villiers.
+
+As to M. Vandeloup, he was indefatigable in his efforts to find
+Villiers, for, as he very truly said, he could never repay Madame Midas
+sufficiently for her kindness to him, and he wanted to do all in his
+power to punish her cruel husband. But in spite of all this seeking, the
+whereabouts of Mr Randolph Villiers remained undiscovered, and at last,
+in despair, everyone gave up looking. Villiers had disappeared entirely,
+and had taken the nugget with him, so where he was and what he was doing
+remained a mystery.
+
+One result of Madame’s illness was that M. Vandeloup had met Dr
+Gollipeck, and the two, though apparently dissimilar in both character
+and appearance, had been attracted to one another by a liking which they
+had in common. This was the study of toxicology, a science at which
+the eccentric old man had spent a lifetime. He found in Vandeloup a
+congenial spirit, for the young Frenchman had a wonderful liking for
+the uncanny subject; but there was a difference in the aims of both men,
+Gollipeck being drawn to the study of poisons from a pure love of the
+subject, whereas Vandeloup wanted to find out the secrets of toxicology
+for his own ends, which were anything but disinterested.
+
+Wearied of the dull routine of the office work, Vandeloup was taking
+a walk in the meadows which surrounded the Pactolus, when he saw Dr
+Gollipeck shuffling along the dusty white road from the railway station.
+
+‘Good day, Monsieur le Medecin,’ said Vandeloup, gaily, as he came up to
+the old man; ‘are you going to see our mutual friend?’
+
+Gollipeck, ever sparing of words, nodded in reply, and trudged on in
+silence, but the Frenchmen, being used to the eccentricities of his
+companion, was in nowise offended at his silence, but went on talking in
+an animated manner.
+
+‘Ah, my dear friend,’ he said, pushing his straw hat back on his fair
+head; ‘how goes on the great work?’
+
+‘Capitally,’ returned the doctor, with a complacent smile; ‘just
+finished “Catherine de Medici”--wonderful woman, sir--quite a mistress
+of the art of poisoning.’
+
+‘Humph,’ returned Vandeloup, thoughtfully, lighting a cigarette, ‘I do
+not agree with you there; it was her so-called astrologer, Ruggieri,
+who prepared all her potions. Catherine certainly had the power, but
+Ruggieri possessed the science--a very fair division of labour for
+getting rid of people, I must say--but what have you got there?’ nodding
+towards a large book which Gollipeck carried under his arm.
+
+‘For you,’ answered the other, taking the book slowly from under his
+arm, and thereby causing another button to fly off, ‘quite new,--work on
+toxicology.’
+
+‘Thank you,’ said Vandeloup, taking the heavy volume and looking at the
+title; ‘French, I see! I’m sure it will be pleasant reading.’
+
+The title of the book was ‘Les Empoisonneurs d’Aujourd’hui, par MM.
+Prevol et Lebrun’, and it had only been published the previous year; so
+as he turned over the leaves carelessly, M. Vandeloup caught sight of
+a name which he knew. He smiled a little, and closing the book put it
+under his arm, while he turned smilingly towards his companion, whom he
+found looking keenly at him.
+
+‘I shall enjoy this book immensely,’ he said, touching the volume. Dr
+Gollipeck nodded and chuckled in a hoarse rattling kind of way.
+
+‘So I should think,’ he answered, with another sharp look, ‘you are a
+very clever young man, my friend.’
+
+Vandeloup acknowledged the compliment with a bow, and wondered mentally
+what this old man meant. Gaston, however, was never without an answer,
+so he turned to Gollipeck again with a nonchalant smile on his handsome
+lips.
+
+‘So kind of you to think well of me,’ he said, coolly flicking the ash
+off the end of his cigarette with his little finger; ‘but why do you pay
+me such a compliment?’
+
+Gollipeck answered the question by asking another.
+
+‘Why are you so fond of toxicology?’ he said, abruptly, shuffling his
+feet in the long dry grass in which they were now walking in order to
+rub the dust off his ungainly, ill-blacked shoes.
+
+Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.
+
+‘To pass the time,’ he said, carelessly, ‘that is all; even office work,
+exciting as it is, becomes wearisome, so I must take up some subject to
+amuse myself.’
+
+‘Curious taste for a young man,’ remarked the doctor, dryly.
+
+‘Nature,’ said M. Vandeloup, ‘does not form men all on the same pattern,
+and my taste for toxicology has at least the charm of novelty.’
+
+Gollipeck looked at the young man again in a sharp manner.
+
+‘I hope you’ll enjoy the book,’ he said, abruptly, and vanished into the
+house.
+
+When he was gone, the mocking smile so habitual to Vandeloup’s
+countenance faded away, and his face assumed a thoughtful expression. He
+opened the book, and turned over the leaves rapidly, but without finding
+what he was in search of. With an uneasy laugh he shut the volume with a
+snap, and put it under his arm again.
+
+‘He’s an enigma,’ he thought, referring to the doctor; ‘but he can’t
+suspect anything. The case may be in this book, but I doubt if even this
+man with the barbarous name can connect Gaston Vandeloup, of Ballarat,
+with Octave Braulard, of Paris.’
+
+His face reassumed its usual gay look, and throwing away the half-smoked
+cigarette, he walked into the house and found Madame Midas seated in her
+arm-chair near the window looking pale and ill, while Archie was walking
+up and down in an excited manner, and talking volubly in broad Scotch.
+As to Dr Gollipeck, that eccentric individual was standing in front of
+the fire, looking even more dilapidated than usual, and drying his red
+bandanna handkerchief in an abstract manner. Selina was in another room
+getting a drink for Madame, and as Vandeloup entered she came back with
+it.
+
+‘Good day, Madame,’ said the Frenchman, advancing to the table, and
+putting his hat and the book down on it. ‘How are you today?’
+
+‘Better, much better, thank you,’ said Madame, with a faint smile; ‘the
+doctor assures me I shall be quite well in a week.’
+
+‘With perfect rest and quiet, of course,’ interposed Gollipeck, sitting
+down and spreading his handkerchief over his knees.
+
+‘Which Madame does not seem likely to get,’ observed Vandeloup, dryly,
+with a glance at McIntosh, who was still pacing up and down the room
+with an expression of wrath on his severe face.
+
+‘Ou, ay,’ said that gentleman, stopping in front of Vandeloup, with a
+fine expression of scorn. ‘I ken weel ‘tis me ye are glowerin’ at--div
+ye no’ ken what’s the matter wi’ me?’
+
+‘Not being in your confidence,’ replied Gaston, smoothly, taking a seat,
+‘I can hardly say that I do.’
+
+‘It’s just that Peter o’ yours,’ said Archie, with a snort; ‘a puir
+weecked unbaptised child o’ Satan.’
+
+‘Archie!’ interposed Madame, with some severity.
+
+‘Your pardon’s begged, mem,’ said Archie, sourly turning to her; ‘but as
+for that Peter body, the Lord keep me tongue fra’ swearin’, an’ my hand
+from itching to gie him ain on the lug, when I think o’ him.’
+
+‘What’s he been doing?’ asked Vandeloup, coolly. ‘I am quite prepared to
+hear anything about him in his present state.’
+
+‘It’s just this,’ burst forth Archie, wrathfully. ‘I went intil the toun
+to the hotel, to tell the body he must come back tae the mine, and I
+find him no in a fit state for a Christian to speak to.’
+
+‘Therefore,’ interposed Vandeloup, in his even voice, without lifting
+his eyes, ‘it was a pity you did speak to him.’
+
+‘I gang t’ the room,’ went on Archie excitedly, without paying any
+attention to Vandeloup’s remark, ‘an’ the deil flew on me wi’ a dirk,
+and wud hae split my weasand, but I hed the sense to bang the door to,
+and turn the key in the lock. D’y ca’ that conduct for a ceevilized
+body?’
+
+‘The fact is, M. Vandeloup,’ said Madame, quietly, ‘Archie is so annoyed
+at this conduct that he does not want Lemaire to come back to work.’
+
+‘Ma certie, I should just think so,’ cried McIntosh, rubbing his head
+with his handkerchief. ‘Fancy an imp of Beelzebub like yon in the bowels
+o’ the earth. Losh! but it macks my bluid rin cauld when I think o’ the
+bluidthirsty pagan.’
+
+To Vandeloup, this information was not unpleasant. He was anxious to get
+rid of Pierre, who was such an incubus, and now saw that he could send
+him away without appearing to wish to get rid of him. But as he was a
+diplomatic young man he did not allow his satisfaction to appear on his
+face.
+
+‘Aren’t you rather hard on him?’ he said, coolly, leaning back in his
+chair; ‘he is simply drunk, and will be all right soon.’
+
+‘I tell ye I’ll no have him back,’ said Archie, firmly; ‘he’s ain o’
+they foreign bodies full of revolutions an’ confusion o’ tongues, and
+I’d no feel safe i’ the mine if I kenned that deil was doon below wi’
+his dirk.’
+
+‘I really think he ought to go,’ said Madame, looking rather anxiously
+at Vandeloup, ‘unless, M. Vandeloup, you do not want to part with him.’
+
+‘Oh, I don’t want him,’ said Vandeloup, hastily; ‘as I told you, he
+was only one of the sailors on board the ship I was wrecked in, and he
+followed me up here because I was the only friend he had, but now he has
+got money--or, at least, his wages must come to a good amount.’
+
+‘Forty pounds,’ interposed Archie.
+
+‘So I think the best thing he can do is to go to Melbourne, and see if
+he can get back to France.’
+
+‘And you, M. Vandeloup?’ asked Dr Gollipeck, who had been listening to
+the young Frenchman’s remarks with great interest; ‘do you not wish to
+go to France?’
+
+Vandeloup rose coolly from his chair, and, picking up his book and hat,
+turned to the doctor.
+
+‘My dear Monsieur,’ he said, leaning up against the wall in a graceful
+manner, ‘I left France to see the world, so until I have seen it I don’t
+think it would be worthwhile to return.’
+
+‘Never go back when you have once put your hand to the plough,’ observed
+Selina, opportunely, upon which Vandeloup bowed to her.
+
+‘Mademoiselle,’ he said, quietly, with a charming smile, ‘has put the
+matter into the shell of a nut; Australia is my plough, and I do not
+take my hand away until I have finished with it.’
+
+‘But that deil o’ a Peter,’ said Archie, impatiently.
+
+‘If you will permit me, Madame,’ said Vandeloup, ‘I will write out a
+cheque for the amount of money due to him, and you will sign it. I will
+go into Ballarat to-morrow, and get him away to Melbourne. I propose
+to buy him a box and some clothes, as he certainly is not capable of
+getting them himself.’
+
+‘You have a kind heart, M. Vandeloup,’ said Madame, as she assented with
+a nod.
+
+A stifled laugh came from the Doctor, but as he was such an extremely
+eccentric individual no one minded him.
+
+‘Come, Monsieur,’ said Vandeloup, going to the door, ‘let us be off
+to the office and see how much is due to my friend,’ and with a bow to
+Madame, he went out.
+
+‘A braw sort o’ freend,’ muttered Archie, as he followed.
+
+‘Quite good enough for him,’ retorted Dr Gollipeck, who overheard him.
+
+Archie looked at him approvingly, nodded his head, and went out after
+the Frenchman, but Madame, being a woman and curious, asked the doctor
+what he meant.
+
+His reply was peculiar.
+
+‘Our friend,’ he said, putting his handkerchief in his pocket and
+seizing his greasy old hat, ‘our friend believes in the greatest
+number.’
+
+‘And what is the greatest number?’ asked Madame, innocently.
+
+‘Number one,’ retorted the Doctor, and took his leave abruptly, leaving
+two buttons and several pins on the floor as traces of his visit.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE BEST OF FRIENDS MUST PART
+
+
+Union is strength, and if Dr Gollipeck had only met Slivers and revealed
+his true opinion of Vandeloup to him, no doubt that clever young man
+would have found himself somewhat embarrassed, as a great deal of a
+man’s past history can be found out by the simple plan of putting two
+and two together. Fortunately, however, for Gaston, these two gentlemen
+never met, and Gollipeck came to the conclusion that he could see
+nothing to blame in Vandeloup’s conduct, though he certainly mistrusted
+him, and determined mentally to keep an eye on his movements. What led
+him to be suspicious was the curious resemblance the appearance of this
+young man had to that of a criminal described in the ‘Les Empoisonneurs
+d’Aujourd’hui’ as having been transported to New Caledonia for the crime
+of poisoning his mistress. Everything, however, was vague and uncertain;
+so Dr Gollipeck, when he arrived home, came to the above-named
+conclusion that he would watch Vandeloup, and then, dismissing him from
+his mind, went to work on his favourite subject.
+
+Meanwhile, M. Vandeloup slept the sleep of the just, and next morning,
+after making his inquiries after the health of Madame Midas--a thing
+he never neglected to do--he went into Ballarat in search of Pierre.
+On arriving at the Wattle Tree Hotel he was received by Miss Twexby in
+dignified silence, for that astute damsel was beginning to regard the
+fascinating Frenchman as a young man who talked a great deal and meant
+nothing.
+
+He was audacious enough to win her virgin heart and then break it, so
+Miss Twexby thought the wisest thing would be to keep him at a distance.
+So Vandeloup’s bright smiles and merry jokes failed to call forth any
+response from the fair Martha, who sat silently in the bar, looking like
+a crabbed sphinx.
+
+‘Is my friend Pierre in?’ asked Vandeloup, leaning across the counter,
+and looking lovingly at Miss Twexby.
+
+That lady intimated coldly that he was in, and had been for the last two
+weeks; also that she was sick of him, and she’d thank M. Vandeloup to
+clear him out--all of which amused Vandeloup mightily, though he still
+continued to smile coolly on the sour-faced damsel before him.
+
+‘Would you mind going and telling him I want to see him?’ he asked,
+lounging to the door.
+
+‘Me!’ shrieked Martha, in a shrill voice, shooting up from behind the
+counter like an infuriated jack-in-the-box. ‘No, I shan’t. Why, the last
+time I saw him he nearly cut me like a ham sandwich with that knife of
+his. I am not,’ pursued Miss Twexby, furiously, ‘a loaf of bread to be
+cut, neither am I a pin-cushion to have things stuck into me; so if you
+want to be a corpse, you’d better go up yourself.’
+
+‘I hardly think he’ll touch me,’ replied Vandeloup, coolly, going
+towards the door which led to Pierre’s bedroom. ‘You’ve had a lot of
+trouble with him, I’m afraid; but he’s going down to Melbourne tonight,
+so it will be all right.’
+
+‘And the bill?’ queried Miss Twexby, anxiously.
+
+‘I will pay it,’ said Vandeloup, at which she was going to say he was
+very generous, but suppressed the compliment when he added, ‘out of his
+own money.’
+
+Gaston, however, failed to persuade Pierre to accompany him round to buy
+an outfit. For the dumb man lay on his bed, and obstinately refused to
+move out of the room. He, however, acquiesced sullenly when his friend
+told him he was going to Melbourne, so Vandeloup left the room, having
+first secured Pierre’s knife, and locked the door after him. He gave
+the knife to Miss Twexby, with injunctions to her to keep it safe, then
+sallied forth to buy his shipwrecked friend a box and some clothes.
+
+He spent about ten pounds in buying an outfit for the dumb man, hired a
+cab to call at the ‘Wattle Tree’ Hotel at seven o’clock to take the box
+and its owner to the station. And then feeling he had done his duty
+and deserved some recompense, he had a nice little luncheon and a small
+bottle of wine for which he paid out of Pierre’s money. When he finished
+he bought a choice cigar, had a glass of Chartreuse, and after resting
+in the commercial room for a time he went out for a walk, intending to
+call on Slivers and Dr Gollipeck, and in fact do anything to kill time
+until it would be necessary for him to go to Pierre and take him to the
+railway station.
+
+He walked slowly up Sturt Street, and as the afternoon was so warm,
+thought he would go up to Lake Wendouree, which is at the top of
+the town, and see if it was any cooler by the water. The day was
+oppressively hot, but not with the bright, cheery warmth of a summer’s
+day, for the sun was hidden behind great masses of angry-looking clouds,
+and it seemed as if a thunderstorm would soon break over the city. Even
+Vandeloup, full of life and animation as he was, felt weighed down by
+the heaviness of the atmosphere, and feeling quite exhausted when he
+arrived at the lake, he was glad enough to sit down on one of the seats
+for a rest.
+
+The lake under the black sky was a dull leaden hue, and as there was
+no wind the water was perfectly still. Even the trees all round it were
+motionless, as there came no breeze to stir their leaves, and the only
+sounds that could be heard were the dull croaking of the frogs amid the
+water grasses, and the shrill cries of children playing on the green
+turf. Every now and then a steamer would skim across the surface of the
+water in an airy manner, looking more like a child’s clockwork toy than
+anything else, and Vandeloup, when he saw one of these arrive at the
+little pier, almost expected to see a man put in a huge key to the
+paddle wheels and wind it up again.
+
+On one of the seats Vandeloup espied a little figure in white, and
+seeing that it was Kitty, he strolled up to her in a leisurely manner.
+She was looking at the ground when he came up, and was prodding holes in
+the spongy turf with her umbrella, but glanced up carelessly as he came
+near. Then she sprang up with a cry of joy, and throwing her arms around
+his neck, she kissed him twice.
+
+‘I haven’t seen you for ages,’ said Kitty, putting her arm in his as
+they sat down. ‘I just came up here for a week, and did not think I’d
+see you.’
+
+‘The meeting was quite accidental, I know,’ replied Gaston, leaning back
+lazily; ‘but none the less pleasant on that account.’
+
+‘Oh, no,’ said Kitty, gravely shaking her head; ‘unexpected meetings
+are always pleasanter than those arranged, for there’s never any
+disappointment about them.’
+
+‘Oh, that’s your experience, is it?’ answered her lover, with an amused
+smile, pulling out his cigarette case. ‘Well, suppose you reward me for
+my accidental presence here, and light a cigarette for me.’
+
+Kitty was of course delighted, and took the case while M. Vandeloup
+leaned back in the seat, his hands behind his head, and stared
+reflectively at the leaden-coloured sky. Kitty took out a cigarette from
+the case, placed it between her pretty lips, and having obtained a match
+from one of her lover’s pockets, proceeded to light it, which was not
+done without a great deal of choking and pretty confusion. At length she
+managed it, and bending over Gaston, placed it in his mouth, and gave
+him a kiss at the same time.
+
+‘If pa knew I did this, he’d expire with horror,’ she said, sagely
+nodding her head.
+
+‘Wouldn’t be much loss if he did,’ replied Vandeloup, lazily, glancing
+at her pretty face from under his eyelashes; ‘your father has a great
+many faults, dear.’
+
+‘Oh, “The Elect” think him perfect,’ said Kitty, wisely.
+
+‘From their point of view, perhaps he is,’ returned Gaston, with a faint
+sneer; ‘but he’s not a man given to exuberant mirth.’
+
+‘Well, he is rather dismal,’ assented Kitty, doubtfully.
+
+‘Wouldn’t you like to leave him and lead a jollier life?’ asked
+Vandeloup, artfully, ‘in Melbourne, for instance.’
+
+Kitty looked at him half afraid.
+
+‘I--I don’t know,’ she faltered, looking down.
+
+‘But I do, Bebe,’ whispered Gaston, putting his arm round her waist;
+‘you would like to come with me.’
+
+‘Why? Are you going?’ cried Kitty, in dismay.
+
+Vandeloup nodded.
+
+‘I think I spoke about this before,’ he said, idly brushing some
+cigarette ash off his waistcoat.
+
+‘Yes,’ returned Kitty, ‘but I thought you did not mean it.’
+
+‘I never say anything I do not mean,’ answered Vandeloup, with the ready
+lie on his lips in a moment; ‘and I have got letters from France with
+money, so I am going to leave the Pactolus.’
+
+‘And me?’ said Kitty, tearfully.
+
+‘That depends upon yourself, Bebe,’ he said rapidly, pressing her
+burning cheek against his own; ‘your father would never consent to my
+marriage, and I can’t take you away from Ballarat without suspicions,
+so--’
+
+‘Yes?’ said Kitty, eagerly, looking at him.
+
+‘You must run away,’ he whispered, with a caressing smile.
+
+‘Alone?’
+
+‘For a time, yes,’ he answered, throwing away his cigarette;
+‘listen--next week you must meet me here, and I will give you money to
+keep you in Melbourne for some time; then you must leave Ballarat at
+once and wait for me at the Buttercup Hotel in Gertrude Street, Carlton;
+you understand?’
+
+‘Yes,’ faltered Kitty, nervously; ‘I--I understand.’
+
+‘And you will come?’ he asked anxiously, looking keenly at her, and
+pressing the little hand he held in his own. Just as she was going to
+answer, as if warning her of the fatal step she was about to take, a low
+roll of thunder broke on their ears, and Kitty shrank back appalled from
+her lover’s embrace.
+
+‘No! no! no!’ she almost shrieked, hysterically, trying to tear herself
+away from his arms, ‘I cannot; God is speaking.’
+
+‘Bah!’ sneered Vandeloup, with an evil look on his handsome face, ‘he
+speaks too indistinctly for us to guess what he means; what are you
+afraid of? I will join you in Melbourne in two or three weeks, and then
+we will be married.’
+
+‘But my father,’ she whispered, clasping her hot hands convulsively.
+
+‘Well, what of him?’ asked Vandeloup, coolly; ‘he is so wrapped up in
+his religion that he will not miss you; he will never find out where you
+are in Melbourne, and by the time he does you will be my wife. Come,’
+he said, ardently, whispering the temptation in her ear, as if he was
+afraid of being heard, ‘you must consent; say yes, Bebe; say yes.’
+
+She felt his hot breath on her cheek, and felt rather than saw the
+scintillations of his wonderful eyes, which sent a thrill through her;
+so, utterly exhausted and worn out by the overpowering nervous force
+possessed by this man, she surrendered.
+
+‘Yes,’ she whispered, clinging to him with dry lips and a beating heart;
+‘I will come!’ Then her overstrained nature gave way, and with a burst
+of tears she threw herself on his breast.
+
+Gaston let her sob quietly for some time, satisfied with having gained
+his end, and knowing that she would soon recover. At last Kitty grew
+calmer, and drying her eyes, she rose to her feet wan and haggard, as if
+she was worn out for the want of sleep, and not by any manner of means
+looking like a girl who was in love. This appearance was caused by the
+revolt of her religious training against doing what she knew was wrong.
+In her breast a natural instinct had been fighting against an artificial
+one; and as Nature is always stronger than precept, Nature had
+conquered.
+
+‘My dear Bebe,’ said Vandeloup, rising also, and kissing her white
+cheek, ‘you must go home now, and get a little sleep; it will do you
+good.’
+
+‘But you?’ asked Kitty, in a low voice, as they walked slowly along.
+
+‘Oh, I,’ said M. Vandeloup, airily; ‘I am going to the Wattle Tree Hotel
+to see my friend Pierre off to Melbourne.’
+
+Then he exerted himself to amuse Kitty as they walked down to town, and
+succeeded so well that by the time they reached Lydiard Street, where
+Kitty left him to go up to Black Hill, she was laughing as merrily as
+possible. They parted at the railway crossing, and Kitty went gaily up
+the white dusty road, while M. Vandeloup strolled leisurely along the
+street on his way to the Wattle Tree Hotel.
+
+When he arrived he found that Pierre’s box had come, and was placed
+outside his door, as no one had been brave enough to venture inside,
+although Miss Twexby assured them he was unarmed--showing the knife as a
+proof.
+
+Gaston, however, dragged the box into the room, and having made Pierre
+dress himself in his new clothes, he packed all the rest in a box,
+corded it, and put a ticket on it with his name and destination,
+then gave the dumb man the balance of his wages. It was now about six
+o’clock, so Vandeloup went down to dinner; then putting Pierre and his
+box into the cab, stepped in himself and drove off.
+
+The promise of rain in the afternoon was now fulfilled, and it was
+pouring in torrents. The gutters were rivers, and every now and then
+through the driving rain came the bluish dart of a lightning flash.
+
+‘Bah!’ said Vandeloup, with a shiver, as they got out on the station
+platform, ‘what a devil of a night.’
+
+He made the cab wait for him, and, having got Pierre’s ticket, put him
+in a second-class carriage and saw that his box was safely placed in the
+luggage-van. The station was crowded with people going and others coming
+to say goodbye; the rain was beating on the high-arched tin roof, and
+the engine at the end of the long train was fretting and fuming like a
+living thing impatient to be gone.
+
+‘You are now on your own responsibility, my friend,’ said Vandeloup to
+Pierre, as he stood at the window of the carriage; ‘for we must part,
+though long together have we been. Perhaps I will see you in Melbourne;
+if I do you will find I have not forgotten the past,’ and, with a
+significant look at the dumb man, Vandeloup lounged slowly away.
+
+The whistle blew shrilly, the last goodbyes were spoken, the guard
+shouted ‘All aboard for Melbourne,’ and shut all the doors, then, with
+another shriek and puff of white steam, the train, like a long, lithe
+serpent, glided into the rain and darkness with its human freight.
+
+‘At last I have rid myself of this dead weight,’ said Vandeloup, as he
+drove along the wet streets to Craig’s Hotel, where he intended to stay
+for the night, ‘and can now shape my own fortune. Pierre is gone, Bebe
+will follow, and now I must look after myself.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+M. VANDELOUP IS UNJUSTLY SUSPECTED
+
+
+‘It never rains but it pours’ is an excellent proverb, and a very true
+one, for it is remarkable how events of a similar nature follow closely
+on one another’s heels when the first that happened has set the ball
+a-rolling. Madame Midas believed to a certain extent in this, and
+she half expected that when Pierre went he would be followed by M.
+Vandeloup, but she certainly did not think that the disappearance of her
+husband would be followed by that of Kitty Marchurst. Yet such was the
+case, for Mr Marchurst, not seeing Kitty at family prayers, had sent in
+the servant to seek for her, and the scared domestic had returned with
+a startled face and a letter for her master. Marchurst read the
+tear-blotted little note, in which Kitty said she was going down to
+Melbourne to appear on the stage. Crushing it up in his hand, he went
+on with family prayers in his usual manner, and after dismissing his
+servants for the night, he went up to his daughter’s room, and found
+that she had left nearly everything behind, only taking a few needful
+things with her. Seeing her portrait on the wall he took it down and
+placed it in his pocket. Then, searching through her room, he found
+some ribbons and lace, a yellow-backed novel, which he handled with the
+utmost loathing, and a pair of gloves. Regarding these things as the
+instruments of Satan, by which his daughter had been led to destruction,
+he carried them downstairs to his dismal study and piled them in the
+empty fireplace. Placing his daughter’s portrait on top he put a light
+to the little pile of frivolities, and saw them slowly burn away. The
+novel curled and cracked in the scorching flame, but the filmy lace
+vanished like cobwebs, and the gloves crackled and shrank into mere
+wisps of black leather. And over all, through the flames, her face,
+bright and charming, looked out with laughing lips and merry eyes--so
+like her mother’s, and yet so unlike in its piquant grace--until that
+too fell into the hollow heart of the flames, and burned slowly away
+into a small pile of white ashes.
+
+Marchurst, leaving the dead ashes cold and grey in the dark fireplace,
+went to his writing table, and falling on his knees he passed the rest
+of the night in prayer.
+
+Meanwhile, the man who was the primary cause of all this trouble was
+working in the office of the Pactolus claim with a light heart and
+cool head. Gaston had really managed to get Kitty away in a very clever
+manner, inasmuch as he never appeared publicly to be concerned in it,
+but directed the whole business secretly. He had given Kitty sufficient
+money to keep her for some months in Melbourne, as he was in doubt when
+he could leave the Pactolus without being suspected of being concerned
+in her disappearance. He also told her what day to leave, and all that
+day stayed at the mine working at his accounts, and afterwards spent the
+evening very pleasantly with Madame Midas. Next day McIntosh went into
+Ballarat on business, and on returning from the city, where he had heard
+all about it--rumour, of course, magnifying the whole affair greatly--he
+saw Vandeloup come out of the office, and drew up in the trap beside the
+young man.
+
+‘Aha, Monsieur,’ said Vandeloup, gaily, rolling a cigarette in his
+slender fingers, and shooting a keen glance at Archie; ‘you have had a
+pleasant day.’
+
+‘Maybe yes, maybe no,’ returned McIntosh, cautiously, fumbling in the
+bag; ‘there’s naething muckle in the toun, but--deil tack the bag,’
+he continued, tetchily shaking it. ‘I’ve gotten a letter or so fra’
+France.’
+
+‘For me?’ cried Vandeloup, eagerly, holding out his hands.
+
+‘An’ for who else would it be?’ grumbled Archie, giving the letter to
+him--a thin, foreign looking envelope with the Parisian post mark on it;
+‘did ye think it was for that black-avised freend o’ yours?’
+
+‘Hardly!’ returned Vandeloup, glancing at the letter with satisfaction,
+and putting it in his pocket. ‘Pierre couldn’t write himself, and I
+doubt very much if he had any friends who could--not that I knew his
+friends,’ he said, hastily catching sight of McIntosh’s severe face bent
+inquiringly on him, ‘but like always draws to like.’
+
+Archie’s only answer to this was a grunt.
+
+‘Are ye no gangin’ tae read yon?’ he asked sourly.
+
+‘Not at present,’ replied Vandeloup, blowing a thin wreath of blue
+smoke, ‘by-and-bye will do. Scandal and oysters should both be fresh to
+be enjoyable, but letters--ah, bah,’ with a shrug, ‘they can wait. Come,
+tell me the news; anything going on?’
+
+‘Weel,’ said McIntosh, with great gusto, deliberately flicking a fly off
+the horse’s back with a whip, ‘she’s ta’en the bit intil her mouth and
+gane wrang, as I said she would.’
+
+‘To what special “she” are you alluding to?’ asked Vandeloup, lazily
+smoothing his moustache; ‘so many of them go wrong, you see, one likes
+to be particular. The lady’s name is--?’
+
+‘Katherine Marchurst, no less,’ burst forth Archie, in triumph; ‘she’s
+rin awa’ to be a play-actor.’
+
+‘What? that child?’ said Vandeloup, with an admirable expression of
+surprise; ‘nonsense! It cannot be true.’
+
+‘D’ye think I would tell a lee?’ said Archie, wrathfully, glowering
+down on the tall figure pacing leisurely along. ‘God forbid that my lips
+should fa’ tae sic iniquity. It’s true, I tell ye; the lass has rin awa’
+an’ left her faither--a godly mon, tho’ I’m no of his way of thinkin--to
+curse the day he had sic a bairn born until him. Ah, ‘tis sorrow and
+dule she hath brought tae his roof tree, an’ sorrow and dule wull be her
+portion at the hands o’ strangers,’ and with this scriptural ending
+Mr McIntosh sharply whipped up Rory, and went on towards the stable,
+leaving Vandeloup standing in the road.
+
+‘I don’t think he suspects, at all events,’ thought that young man,
+complacently. ‘As to Madame Midas--pouf! I can settle her suspicions
+easily; a little virtuous indignation is most effective as a blind;’
+and M. Vandeloup, with a gay laugh, strolled on towards the house in the
+gathering twilight.
+
+Suddenly he recollected the letter, which had escaped his thoughts, in
+his desire to see how McIntosh would take the disappearance of Kitty,
+so as there was still light to see, he leaned up against a fence, and,
+having lighted another cigarette, read it through carefully. It appeared
+to afford him considerable satisfaction, and he smiled as he put it in
+his pocket again.
+
+‘It seems pretty well forgotten, this trouble about Adele,’ he said,
+musingly, as he resumed his saunter; ‘I might be able to go back again
+in a few years, if not to Paris at least to Europe--one can be very
+happy in Monaco or Vienna, and run no risk of being found out; and,
+after all,’ he muttered, thoughtfully, fingering his moustache, ‘why
+not to Paris? The Republic has lasted too long already. Sooner or later
+there will be a change of Government, and then I can go back a free man,
+with a fortune of Australian gold. Emperor, King, or President, it’s all
+the same to me, as long as I am left alone.’
+
+He walked on slowly, thinking deeply all the time, and when he arrived
+at the door of Mrs Villiers’ house, this clever young man, with his
+accustomed promptitude and decision, had settled what he was going to
+do.
+
+‘Up to a certain point, of course,’ he said aloud, following his
+thoughts, ‘after that, chance must decide.’
+
+Madame Midas was very much grieved at the news of Kitty’s Escapade,
+particularly as she could not see what motive she had for running away,
+and, moreover, trembled to think of the temptations the innocent girl
+would be exposed to in the metropolis. After tea, when Archie had gone
+outside to smoke his pipe, and Selina was busy in the kitchen washing
+the dishes, she spoke to Vandeloup on the subject. The young Frenchman
+was seated at the piano in the darkness, striking a few random chords,
+while Madame was by the fire in the arm-chair. It was quite dark, with
+only the rosy glow of the fire shining through the room. Mrs Villiers
+felt uneasy; was it likely that Vandeloup could have any connection with
+Kitty’s disappearance? Impossible! he had given her his word of honour,
+and yet--it was very strange. Mrs Villiers was not, by any means,
+a timid woman, so she determined to ask Gaston right out, and get a
+decided answer from him, so as to set her mind at rest.
+
+‘M. Vandeloup,’ she said, in her clear voice, ‘will you kindly come here
+a moment?
+
+‘Certainly, Madame,’ said Gaston, rising with alacrity from the piano,
+and coming to the fireside; ‘is there anything I can do?’
+
+‘You have heard of Miss Marchurst’s disappearance?’ she asked, looking
+up at him.
+
+Vandeloup leaned his elbow on the mantelpiece, and looked down into the
+fire, so that the full blaze of it could strike his face. He knew Madame
+Midas prided herself on being a reader of character, and knowing he
+could command his features admirably, he thought it would be politic to
+let her see his face, and satisfy herself as to his innocence.
+
+‘Yes, Madame,’ he answered, in his calm, even tones, looking down
+inquiringly at the statuesque face of the woman addressing him;
+‘Monsieur,’ nodding towards the door, ‘told me, but I did not think it
+true.’
+
+‘I’m afraid it is,’ sighed Madame, shaking her head. ‘She is going on
+the stage, and her father will never forgive her.’
+
+‘Surely, Madame--’ began Vandeloup, eagerly.
+
+‘No,’ she replied, decisively, ‘he is not a hard man, but his way of
+looking at things through his peculiar religious ideas has warped his
+judgment--he will make no attempt to save her, and God knows what she
+will come to.’
+
+‘There are good women on the stage,’ said Vandeloup, at a loss for a
+reply.
+
+‘Certainly,’ returned Madame, calmly, ‘there are black and white sheep
+in every flock, but Kitty is so young and inexperienced, that she may
+become the prey of the first handsome scoundrel she meets.’
+
+Madame had intuitively guessed the whole situation, and Vandeloup could
+not help admiring her cleverness. Still his face remained the same, and
+his voice was as steady as ever as he answered--
+
+‘It is much to be regretted; but still we must hope for the best.’
+
+Was he guilty? Madame could not make up her mind, so determined to speak
+boldly.
+
+‘Do you remember that day I introduced her to you?’
+
+Vandeloup bowed.
+
+‘And you gave me your word of honour you would not try to turn her
+head,’ pursued Madame, looking at him; ‘have you kept your word?’
+
+‘Madame,’ said Vandeloup, gravely, ‘I give you my word of honour that
+I have always treated Mlle Kitty as a child and your friend. I did not
+know that she had gone until I was told, and whatever happens to her, I
+can safely say that it was not Gaston Vandeloup’s fault.’
+
+An admirable actor this man, not a feature of his face moved, not a
+single deviation from the calmness of his speech--not a quickening of
+the pulse, nor the rush of betraying blood to his fair face--no! Madame
+withdrew her eyes quite satisfied, M. Vandeloup was the soul of honour
+and was innocent of Kitty’s disgrace.
+
+‘Thank God!’ she said, reverently, as she looked away, for she would
+have been bitterly disappointed to have found her kindness to this man
+repaid by base treachery towards her friend; ‘I cannot tell you how
+relieved I feel.’
+
+M. Vandeloup withdrew his face into the darkness, and smiled in a
+devilish manner to himself. How these women believed--was there any lie
+too big for the sex to swallow? Evidently not--at least, so he thought.
+But now that Kitty was disposed of, he had to attend to his own private
+affairs, and put his hand in his pocket for the letter.
+
+‘I wanted to speak to you on business, Madame,’ he said, taking out the
+letter; ‘the long-expected has come at last.’
+
+‘You have heard from Paris?’ asked Madame, in an eager voice.
+
+‘I have,’ answered the Frenchman, calmly; ‘I have now the letter in my
+hand, and as soon as Mlle Selina brings in the lights I will show it to
+you.’
+
+At this moment, as if in answer to his request, Selina appeared with the
+lamp, which she had lighted in the kitchen and now brought in to place
+on the table. When she did so, and had retired again, Vandeloup placed
+his letter in Madame’s hand, and asked her to read it.
+
+‘Oh, no, Monsieur,’ said Mrs Villiers, offering it back, ‘I do not wish
+to read your private correspondence.’
+
+Vandeloup had calculated on this, for, as a matter of fact, there was a
+good deal of private matter in the letter, particularly referring to his
+trip to New Caledonia, which he would not have allowed her to see. But
+he knew it would inspire her with confidence in him if he placed it
+wholly in her hands, and resolved to boldly venture to do so. The result
+was as he guessed; so, with a smile, he took it back again.
+
+‘There is nothing private in it, Madame,’ he said, opening the letter;
+‘I wanted you to see that I had not misrepresented myself--it is from my
+family lawyer, and he has sent me out a remittance of money, also some
+letters of introduction to my consul in Melbourne and others; in fact,’
+said M. Vandeloup, with a charming smile, putting the letter in his
+pocket, ‘it places me in my rightful position, and I shall assume it as
+soon as I have your permission.’
+
+‘But why my permission ?’ asked Madame, with a faint smile, already
+regretting bitterly that she was going to lose her pleasant companion.
+
+‘Madame,’ said Vandeloup, impressively, bending forward, ‘in the words
+of the Bible--when I was hungry you gave me food; when I was naked you
+gave me raiment. You took me on, Madame, an unknown waif, without money,
+friends, or a character; you believed in me when no one else did; you
+have been my guardian angel: and do you think that I can forget your
+goodness to me for the last six months? No! Madame,’ rising, ‘I have a
+heart, and while I live that heart will ever remember you with gratitude
+and love;’ and bending forward he took her hand and kissed it gallantly.
+
+‘You think too much of what I have done,’ said Madame, who was,
+nevertheless, pleased at this display of emotion, albeit, according to
+her English ideas, it seemed to savour too much of the footlights. ‘I
+only did to you what I would do to all men. I am glad, in this instance,
+to find my confidence has not been misplaced; when do you think of
+leaving us?’
+
+‘In about two or three weeks,’ answered Vandeloup, carelessly, ‘but not
+till you find another clerk; besides, Madame, do not think you have
+lost sight of me for ever; I will go down to Melbourne, settle all my
+affairs, and come up and see you again.’
+
+‘So you say,’ replied Mrs Villiers, sceptically smiling.
+
+‘Well,’ replied M. Vandeloup, with a shrug, ‘we will see--at all
+events, gratitude is such a rare virtue that there is decided novelty in
+possessing it.’
+
+‘M. Vandeloup,’ said Madame, suddenly, after they had been chatting for
+a few moments, ‘one thing you must do for me in Melbourne.’
+
+‘I will do anything you wish,’ said Vandeloup, gravely.
+
+‘Then,’ said Madame, earnestly, rising and looking him in the face, ‘you
+must find Kitty, and send her back to me.’
+
+‘Madame,’ said Vandeloup, solemnly, ‘it will be the purpose of my life
+to restore her to your arms.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE DEVIL’S LEAD
+
+
+There was great dismay at the Pactolus Mine when it became known that
+Vandeloup was going to leave. During his short stay he had made himself
+extremely popular with the men, as he always had a bright smile and a
+kind word for everyone, so they all felt like losing a personal friend.
+The only two who were unfeigningly glad at Vandeloup’s departure were
+Selina and McIntosh, for these two faithful hearts had seen with dismay
+the influence the Frenchman was gradually gaining over Madame Midas.
+As long as Villiers lived they felt safe, but now that he had so
+mysteriously disappeared, and was to all appearances dead, they dreaded
+lest their mistress, in a moment of infatuation, should marry her clerk.
+They need not, however, have been afraid, for much as Mrs Villiers liked
+the young Frenchman, such an idea had never entered her head, and she
+was far too clever a woman ever to tempt matrimony a second time, seeing
+how dearly it had cost her.
+
+Madame Midas had made great efforts to find Kitty, but without success;
+and, in spite of all inquiries and advertisements in the papers, nothing
+could be discovered regarding the missing girl.
+
+At last the time drew near for Vandeloup’s departure, when all the
+sensation of Kitty’s escapade and Villiers’ disappearance was swallowed
+up in a new event, which filled Ballarat with wonder. It began in
+a whisper, and grew into such a roar of astonishment that not only
+Ballarat, but all Victoria, knew that the far-famed Devil’s Lead
+had been discovered in the Pactolus claim. Yes, after years of weary
+waiting, after money had been swallowed up in apparently useless work,
+after sceptics had sneered and friends laughed, Madame Midas obtained
+her reward. The Devil’s Lead was discovered, and she was now a
+millionaire.
+
+For some time past McIntosh had not been satisfied with the character of
+the ground in which he had been working, so abandoning the shaft he was
+then in, he had opened up another gallery to the west, at right angles
+from the place where the famous nugget had been found. The wash was poor
+at first, but McIntosh persevered, having an instinct that he was on the
+right track. A few weeks’ work proved that he was right, for the wash
+soon became richer; and as they went farther on towards the west,
+following the gutter, there was no doubt that the long-lost Devil’s Lead
+had been struck. The regular return had formerly been five ounces to the
+machine, but now the washing up invariably gave twenty ounces, and small
+nuggets of water-worn gold were continually found in the three machines.
+The main drive following the lead still continued dipping westward, and
+McIntosh now commenced blocking and putting in side galleries, expecting
+when this was done he would thoroughly prove the Devil’s Lead, for he
+was quite satisfied he was on it. Even now the yield was three hundred
+and sixty ounces a week, and after deducting working expenses, this gave
+Madame Midas a weekly income of one thousand one hundred pounds, so she
+now began to see what a wealthy woman she was likely to be. Everyone
+unfeigningly rejoiced at her good fortune, and said that she deserved
+it. Many thought that now she was so rich Villiers would come back
+again, but he did not put in an appearance, and it was generally
+concluded he had left the colony.
+
+Vandeloup congratulated Madame Midas on her luck when he was going away,
+and privately determined that he would not lose sight of her, as, being
+a wealthy woman, and having a liking for him, she would be of great use.
+He took his farewell gracefully, and went away, carrying the good wishes
+of all the miners; but McIntosh and Selina, still holding to their
+former opinion, were secretly pleased at his departure. Madame Midas
+made him a present of a hundred pounds, and, though he refused it,
+saying that he had money from France, she asked him as a personal favour
+to take it; so M. Vandeloup, always gallant to ladies, could not refuse.
+He went in to Ballarat, and put up at the Wattle Tree Hotel, intending
+to start for the metropolis next morning; but on his way, in order to
+prepare Kitty for his coming, sent a telegram for her, telling her the
+train he would arrive by, in order that she might be at the station to
+meet him.
+
+After his dinner he suddenly recollected that he still had the volume
+which Dr Gollipeck had lent him, so, calling a cab, he drove to the
+residence of that eccentric individual to return it.
+
+When the servant announced M. Vandeloup, she pushed him in and suddenly
+closed the door after her, as though she was afraid of some of the
+doctor’s ideas getting away.
+
+‘Good evening, doctor,’ said Vandeloup, laying the book down on the
+table at which Gollipeck was seated; ‘I’ve come to return you this and
+say good-bye.’
+
+‘Aha, going away?’ asked Gollipeck, leaning back in his chair, and
+looked sharply at the young man through his spectacles, ‘right--see the
+world--you’re clever--won’t go far wrong--no!’
+
+‘It doesn’t matter much if I do,’ replied Vandeloup, shrugging his
+shoulders, and taking a chair, ‘nobody will bother much about me.’
+
+‘Eh!’ queried the doctor, sharply, sitting up.
+‘Paris--friends--relations.’
+
+‘My only relation is an aunt with a large family; she’s got quite enough
+to do looking after them, without bothering about me,’ retorted M.
+Vandeloup; ‘as to friends--I haven’t got one.’
+
+‘Oh!’ from Gollipeck, with a cynical smile, ‘I see; let us
+say--acquaintances.’
+
+‘Won’t make any difference,’ replied Vandeloup, airily; ‘I turned my
+acquaintances into friends long ago, and then borrowed money off
+them; result: my social circle is nil. Friends,’ went on M. Vandeloup,
+reflectively, ‘are excellent as friends, but damnable as bankers.’
+
+Gollipeck chuckled, and rubbed his hands, for this cynicism pleased him.
+Suddenly his eye caught the book which the young man had returned.
+
+‘You read this?’ he said, laying his hand on it; ‘good, eh?’
+
+‘Very good, indeed,’ returned M. Vandeloup, smoothly; ‘so kind of you to
+have lent it to me--all those cases quoted were known to me.’
+
+‘The case of Adele Blondet, for instance, eh?’ asked the old man
+sharply.
+
+‘Yes, I was present at the trial,’ replied Vandeloup, quietly; ‘the
+prisoner Octave Braulard was convicted, condemned to death, reprieved,
+and sent to New Caledonia.’
+
+‘Where he now is,’ said Gollipeck, quickly, looking at him.
+
+‘I presume so,’ replied Vandeloup, lazily. ‘After the trial I never
+bothered my head about him.’
+
+‘He poisoned his mistress, Adele Blondet,’ said the doctor.
+
+‘Yes,’ answered Vandeloup, leaning forward and looking at Gollipeck,
+‘he found she was in love with an Englishman, and poisoned her--you will
+find it all in the book.’
+
+‘It does not mention the Englishman,’ said the doctor, thoughtfully
+tapping the table with his hand.
+
+‘Nevertheless he was implicated in it, but went away from Paris the day
+Braulard was arrested,’ answered Vandeloup. ‘The police tried to find
+him, but could not; if they had, it might have made some difference to
+the prisoner.’
+
+‘And the name of this Englishman?’
+
+‘Let me see,’ said Vandeloup, looking up reflectively; ‘I almost forget
+it--Kestroke or Kestrike, some name like that. He must have been a very
+clever man to have escaped the French police.’
+
+‘Ah, hum!’ said the doctor, rubbing his nose, ‘very interesting indeed;
+strange case!’
+
+‘Very,’ assented M. Vandeloup, as he arose to go, ‘I must say good-bye
+now, doctor; but I am coming up to Ballarat on a visit shortly.’
+
+‘Ah, hum! of course,’ replied Gollipeck, also rising, ‘and we can have
+another talk over this book.’
+
+‘That or any book you like,’ said Vandeloup, with a glance of surprise;
+‘but I don’t see why you are so much taken up with that volume; it is
+not a work of genius.’
+
+‘Well, no,’ answered Gollipeck, looking at him; ‘still, it contains some
+excellent cases of modern poisoning.’
+
+‘So I saw when I read it,’ returned Vandeloup, indifferently.
+‘Good-bye,’ holding out his hand, ‘or rather I should say au revoir.’
+
+‘Wine?’ queried the Doctor, hospitably.
+
+Vandeloup shook his head, and walked out of the room with a gay smile,
+humming a tune. He strolled slowly down Lydiard Street, turning over in
+his mind what the doctor had said to him.
+
+‘He is suspicious,’ muttered the young man to himself, thoughtfully,
+‘although he has nothing to go on in connecting me with the case. Should
+I use the poison here I must be careful, for that man will be my worst
+enemy.’
+
+He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turning round saw Barty Jarper
+before him. That fashionable young man was in evening dress, and
+represented such an extent of shirt front and white waistcoat,--not to
+mention a tall collar, on the top of which his little head was perched
+like a cocoanut on a stick,--that he was positively resplendent.
+
+‘Where are you going to?’ asked the gorgeous Barty, smoothing his
+incipient moustache.
+
+‘Well, I really don’t know,’ answered Vandeloup, lighting a cigarette.
+‘I am leaving for Melbourne to-morrow morning, but to-night I have
+nothing to do. You, I see, are engaged,’ with a glance at the evening
+dress.
+
+‘Yes,’ returned Barty, in a bored voice; ‘musical party on,--they want
+me to sing.’
+
+Vandeloup had heard Barty’s vocal performance, and could not forbear
+a smile as he thought of the young man’s three songs with the same
+accompaniment to each. Suppressing, however, his inclination to laugh,
+he asked Barty to have a drink, which invitation was promptly accepted,
+and they walked in search of a hotel. On the way, they passed Slivers’
+house, and here Vandeloup paused.
+
+‘This was the first house I entered here,’ he said to Barty, ‘and I must
+go in and say good-bye to my one-armed friend with the cockatoo.’
+
+Mr Jarper, however, drew back.
+
+‘I don’t like him,’ he said bluntly, ‘he’s an old devil.’
+
+‘Oh, it’s always as well to accustom oneself to the society of devils,’
+retorted Vandeloup, coolly, ‘we may have to live with them constantly
+some day.’
+
+Barty laughed at this, and putting his arm in that of Vandeloup’s, they
+went in.
+
+Slivers’ door stood ajar in its usual hospitable manner, but all within
+was dark.
+
+‘He must be out,’ said Barty, as they stood in the dark passage.
+
+‘No,’ replied Vandeloup, feeling for a match, ‘someone is talking in the
+office.’
+
+‘It’s that parrot,’ said Barty, with a laugh, as they heard Billy
+rapidly running over his vocabulary; ‘let’s go in.’
+
+He pushed open the door, and was about to step into the room, when
+catching sight of something on the floor, he recoiled with a cry, and
+caught Vandeloup by the arm.
+
+‘What’s the matter?’ asked the Frenchman, hastily.
+
+‘He’s dead,’ returned Barty, with a sort of gasp; ‘see, he’s lying on
+the floor dead!’
+
+And so he was! The oldest inhabitant of Ballarat had joined the great
+majority, and, as it was afterwards discovered, his death was caused by
+the breaking of a blood-vessel. The cause of it was not clear, but the
+fact was, that hearing of the discovery of the Devil’s Lead, and knowing
+that it was lost to him for ever, Slivers had fallen into such a fit of
+rage, that he burst a blood-vessel and died in his office with no one by
+him.
+
+The light of the street lamp shone through the dusty windows into the
+dark room, and in the centre of the yellow splash lay the dead man,
+with his one eye wide open, staring at the ceiling, while perched on his
+wooden leg, which was sticking straight out, sat the parrot, swearing.
+It was a most repulsive sight, and Barty, with a shudder of disgust,
+tried to drag his companion away, but M. Vandeloup refused to go, and
+searched his pockets for a match to see more clearly what the body was
+like.
+
+‘Pickles,’ cried Billy, from his perch on the dead man’s wooden leg;
+‘oh, my precious mother,--devil take him.’
+
+‘My faith,’ said M. Vandeloup, striking a match, ‘the devil has taken
+him,’ and leaving Barty shivering and trembling at the door, he advanced
+into the room and stood looking at the body. Billy at his approach
+hopped off the leg and waddled up to the dead man’s shoulder, where
+he sat cursing volubly, and every now and then going into shrieks of
+demoniacal laughter. Barty closed his ears to the devilish mirth, and
+saw M. Vandeloup standing over the corpse, with the faint light of the
+match flickering in his hand.
+
+‘Do you know what this is?’ he asked, turning to Barty.
+
+The other looked at him inquiringly.
+
+‘It is the comedy of death,’ said the Frenchman, throwing down the match
+and going to the door.
+
+They both went out to seek assistance, and left the dark room with the
+dead man lying in the pool of yellow light, and the parrot perched on
+the body, muttering to itself. It was a strange mingling of the horrible
+and grotesque, and the whole scene was hit off in the phrase applied to
+it by Vandeloup. It was, indeed, ‘The Comedy of Death’!
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+TEMPUS FUGIT
+
+
+A whole year had elapsed since the arrival of Vandeloup in Melbourne,
+and during that time many things had happened. Unfortunately, in spite
+of his knowledge of human nature, and the fact that he started with a
+good sum of money, Gaston had not made his fortune. This was due to the
+fact that he was indisposed to work when his banking account was at all
+decent; so he had lived like a prince on his capital, and trusted to his
+luck furnishing him with more when it was done.
+
+Kitty had joined him in Melbourne as arranged, and Gaston had
+established her in a place in Richmond. It was not a regular
+boarding-house, but the lady who owned it, Mrs Pulchop by name, was in
+the habit of letting apartments on reasonable terms; so Vandeloup had
+taken up his abode there with Kitty, who passed as his wife.
+
+But though he paid her all the deference and respect due to a wife, and
+though she wore a marriage ring, yet, as a matter of fact, they were not
+married. Kitty had implored her lover to have the ceremony performed as
+soon as he joined her; but as the idea was not to M. Vandeloup’s taste,
+he had put her off, laughingly at first, then afterwards, when he began
+to weary of her, he said he could not marry her for at least a year. The
+reason he assigned for this was the convenient one of family affairs;
+but, in reality, he foresaw he would get tired of her in that time,
+and did not want to tie himself so that he could not leave her when he
+wished. At first, the girl had rebelled against this delay, for she was
+strongly biased by her religious training, and looked with horror on the
+state of wickedness in which she was living. But Gaston laughed at her
+scruples, and as time went on, her finer feelings became blunted, and
+she accepted the position to which she was reduced in an apathetic
+manner.
+
+Sometimes she had wild thoughts of running away, but she still loved him
+too well to do so; and besides, there was no one to whom she could go,
+as she well knew her father would refuse to receive her. The anomalous
+position which she occupied, however, had an effect on her spirits, and
+from being a bright and happy girl, she became irritable and fretful.
+She refused to go out anywhere, and when she went into town, either
+avoided the principal streets, or wore a heavy veil, so afraid was she
+of being recognised by anyone from Ballarat and questioned as to how she
+lived. All this was very disagreeable to M. Vandeloup, who had a horror
+of being bored, and not finding Kitty’s society pleasant enough, he
+gradually ceased to care for her, and was now only watching for an
+opportunity to get rid of her without any trouble. He was a member of
+the Bachelor’s Club, a society of young men which had a bad reputation
+in Melbourne, and finding Kitty was so lachrymose, he took a room at the
+Club, and began to stay away four or five days at a time. So Kitty
+was left to herself, and grew sad and tearful, as she reflected on the
+consequence of her fatal passion for this man. Mrs Pulchop was vastly
+indignant at Vandeloup neglecting his wife, for, of course, she never
+thought she was anything else to the young man, and did all in her
+power to cheer the girl up, which, however, was not much, as Mrs Pulchop
+herself was decidedly of a funereal disposition.
+
+Meanwhile, Gaston was leading a very gay life in Melbourne. His good
+looks and clever tongue had made him a lot of friends, and he was very
+popular both in drawing-room and club. The men voted him a jolly sort
+of fellow and a regular swagger man, while the ladies said that he
+was heavenly; for, true to his former tactics, Vandeloup always made
+particular friends of women, selecting, of course, those whom he thought
+would be likely to be of use to him. Being such a favourite entailed
+going out a great deal, and as no one can pose as a man of fashion
+without money, M. Vandeloup soon found that his capital was rapidly
+melting away. He then went in for gambling, and the members of The
+Bachelors, being nearly all rich young men, Gaston’s dexterity at ecarte
+and baccarat was very useful to him, and considerably augmented his
+income.
+
+Still, card-playing is a somewhat precarious source from which to derive
+an income, so Vandeloup soon found himself pretty hard up, and was at
+his wit’s end how to raise money. His gay life cost him a good deal,
+and Kitty, of course, was a source of expense, although, poor girl, she
+never went anywhere; but there was a secret drain on his purse of which
+no one ever dreamed. This was none other than Pierre Lemaire, who,
+having spent all the money he got at the Pactolus, came and worried
+Vandeloup for more. That astute young man would willingly have refused
+him, but, unfortunately, Pierre knew too much of his past life for him
+to do so, therefore he had to submit to the dumb man’s extortions with
+the best grace he could. So what with Kitty’s changed manner, Pierre
+wanting money, and his own lack of coin, M. Vandeloup was in anything
+but an enviable position, and began to think it was time his luck--if he
+ever had any--should step in. He thought of running up to Ballarat and
+seeing Madame Midas, whom he knew would lend him some money, but he had
+a certain idea in his head with regard to that lady, so wished to retain
+her good opinion, and determined not to apply to her until all other
+plans for obtaining money failed. Meanwhile, he went everywhere, was
+universally admired and petted, and no one who saw him in society with
+his bright smile and nonchalant manner, would have imagined what crafty
+schemes there were in that handsome head.
+
+Madame Midas was still up at Ballarat and occupying the same cottage,
+although she was now so wealthy she could have inhabited a palace, had
+she been so minded. But prosperity had not spoiled Mrs Villiers. She
+still managed her own affairs, and did a great deal of good with her
+money,--expending large sums for charitable purposes, because she really
+wished to do good, and not, like so many rich people, for the purpose of
+advertising herself.
+
+The Pactolus was now a perfect fortune, and Madame Midas being the sole
+owner, her wealth was thought to be enormous, as every month a fresh
+deluge of gold rolled into her coffers from the inexhaustible Devil’s
+Lead. McIntosh, of course, still managed the mine, and took great pride
+in his success, especially after so many people had scoffed at it.
+
+Various other mines had started in the vicinity, and had been floated on
+the Melbourne market, where they kept rising and falling in unison with
+the monthly yield of the Pactolus. The Devil’s Lead was rather unequal,
+as sometimes the ground would be rich, while another time it would turn
+out comparatively poor. People said it was patchy, and some day would
+run out altogether, but it did not show any signs of exhaustion,
+and even if it had, Madame Midas was now so wealthy that it mattered
+comparatively little. When the monthly yield was small, the mines round
+about would fall in the share market to a few shillings, but if it was
+large, they would rush up again to as many pounds, so that the brokers
+managed to do pretty well out of the fluctuations of the stock.
+
+One thing astonished Madame Midas very much, and that was the continuous
+absence of her husband. She did not believe he was dead, and fully
+expected to see him turn up some time; but as the months passed on, and
+he did not appear, she became uneasy. The idea of his lurking round was
+a constant nightmare to her, and at last she placed the matter in the
+hands of the police, with instructions to try to ascertain what became
+of him.
+
+The police did everything in their power to discover Villiers’
+whereabouts, but without success. Unfortunately, Slivers, who might have
+helped them, being so well acquainted with the missing man’s habits, was
+dead; and, after trying for about three months to find some traces
+of Villiers, the police gave up the search in despair. Madame Midas,
+therefore, came to the conclusion that he was either dead or had left
+the colony, and though half doubtful, yet hoped that she had now seen
+the last of him.
+
+She had invested her money largely in land, and thus being above the
+reach of poverty for the rest of her life, she determined to take up
+her abode in Melbourne for a few months, prior to going to England on a
+visit. With this resolution, she gave up her cottage to Archie, who was
+to live in it, and still manage the mine, and made preparations to come
+down to Melbourne with Selina Sprotts.
+
+Vandeloup heard of this resolution, and secretly rejoiced at it, for he
+thought that seeing she liked him so much, now that her husband was to
+all appearances dead, she might marry him, and it was to this end he had
+kept up his acquaintance with her. He never thought of the girl he had
+betrayed, pining away in a dull lodging. No, M. Vandeloup, untroubled by
+the voice of conscience, serenely waited the coming of Madame Midas, and
+determined, if he could possibly arrange it, to marry her. He was the
+spider, and Madame Midas the fly; but as the spider knew the fly he had
+to inveigle into his web was a very crafty one, he determined to act
+with great caution; so, having ascertained when Madame Midas would be in
+Melbourne, he awaited her arrival before doing anything, and trusted in
+some way to get rid of Kitty before she came. It was a difficult game,
+for M. Vandeloup knew that should Kitty find out his intention she would
+at once go to Mrs Villiers, and then Madame would discover his baseness
+in ruining the girl. M. Vandeloup, however, surveyed the whole situation
+calmly, and was not ill-pleased at the position of affairs. Life was
+beginning to bore him in Melbourne, and he wanted to be amused. Here was
+a comedy worthy of Moliere--a jealous woman, a rich lady, and a handsome
+man.
+
+‘My faith,’ said M. Vandeloup, smiling to himself as he thought of the
+situation, ‘it’s a capital comedy, certainly; but I must take care it
+doesn’t end as a tragedy.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+DISENCHANTMENT
+
+
+It is said that ‘creaking doors hang the longest,’ and Mrs Pulchop, of
+Carthage Cottage, Richmond, was an excellent illustration of the truth
+of this saying. Thin, pale, with light bleached-looking hair,
+and eyebrows and eyelashes to match, she looked so shadowy and
+unsubstantial, than an impression was conveyed to the onlooker that
+a breath might blow her away. She was often heard to declare, when
+anything extra-ordinary happened, that one might ‘knock her down with
+a feather’, which, as a matter of fact, was by no means a stretch of
+fancy, provided the feather was a strong one and Mrs Pulchop was taken
+unawares. She was continually alluding to her ‘constitootion’, as if
+she had an interest in politics, but in reality she was referring to her
+state of health, which was invariably bad. According to her own showing,
+there was not a single disease under the sun with which she had not been
+afflicted, and she could have written a whole book on the subject of
+medicine, and put herself in, in every instance, as an illustrative
+case.
+
+Mr Pulchop had long since departed this life, being considerably
+assisted in his exit from this wicked world by the quantity of
+patent medicines his wife compelled him to take to cure him, which
+unfortunately, however, had the opposite effect.
+
+Mrs Pulchop said he had been a handsome man, but according to the
+portrait she had of him he resembled a bull-dog more than anything else
+in nature. The young Pulchops, of which there were two, both of the
+female sex, took after their father in appearance and their mother in
+temperament, and from the time they could talk and crawl knew as much
+about drops, poultices, bandages, and draughts as many a hospital nurse
+of mature age.
+
+One day Vandeloup sent a telegram to Kitty saying he would be home to
+dinner, and as he always required something extra in the way of cooking,
+Kitty went to interview Mrs Pulchop on the subject. She found that
+lady wrapped up in a heavy shawl, turning herself into a tea-kettle by
+drinking hot water, the idea being, as she assured Kitty, to rouse up
+her liver. Miss Topsy Pulchop was tying a bandage round her face, as she
+felt a toothache coming on, while Miss Anna Pulchop was unfortunately
+quite well, and her occupation being gone, was seated disconsolately at
+the window trying to imagine she felt pains in her back.
+
+‘Ah!’ groaned Mrs Pulchop, in a squeaky voice, sipping her hot
+water; ‘you don’t know, my dear, what it is to be aworrited by your
+liver--tortures and inquisitions ain’t in it, my love.’
+
+Kitty said she was very sorry, and asked her if nothing would relieve
+her sufferings, but Mrs Pulchop shook her head triumphantly.
+
+‘My sweet young thing,’ said the patient, with great gusto, ‘I’ve tried
+everything under the sun to make it right, but they ain’t no good;
+it’s always expanding and a contracting of itself unbeknown to me, and
+throwing the bile into the stomach, which ain’t its proper place.’
+
+‘It does sound rather nasty,’ assented Kitty; ‘and Topsy seems to be
+ill, too.’
+
+‘Toothache,’ growled Topsy, who had a deep, bass voice, and being
+modelled on the canine lines of her late lamented father, the growl
+suited her admirably. ‘I had two out last week, and now this one’s
+started.’
+
+‘Try a roasted fig, Topsy dear,’ suggested her mother, who, now, having
+finished her hot water, looked longingly at the kettle for more.
+
+‘Toothache,’ growled Topsy, in reply, ‘not gumboil;’ the remedy
+suggested by Mrs Pulchop being for the latter of these ills.
+
+‘You are quite well, at any rate,’ said Kitty to Anna, cheerfully.
+
+Anna, however, declined to be considered in good health. ‘I fancy my
+back is going to ache,’ she said, darkly placing her hand in the small
+of it. ‘I’ll have to put a linseed poultice on it tonight, to draw the
+cold out.’
+
+Then she groaned dismally, and her mother and sister, hearing the
+familiar sound, also groaned, so there was quite a chorus, and Kitty
+felt inclined to groan also, out of sympathy.
+
+‘M. Vandeloup is coming to dinner tonight,’ she said, timidly, to Mrs
+Pulchop.
+
+‘And a wonder it is, my sweet angel,’ said that lady, indignantly,
+rising and glancing at the pretty girl, now so pale and sad-looking,
+‘it’s once in a blue moon as he comes ‘ome, a--leaving you to mope at
+home like a broken-hearted kitten in a coal box. Ah, if he only had a
+liver, that would teach him manners.’
+
+Groans of assent from the Misses Pulchops, who both had livers and were
+always fighting with them.
+
+‘And what, my neglected cherub,’ asked Mrs Pulchop, going to a
+looking-glass which always hung in the kitchen, for the three to examine
+their tongues in, ‘what shall I give you for dinner?’
+
+Kitty suggested a fowl, macaroni cheese, and fruit for dessert, which
+bill of fare had such an effect on the family that they all groaned in
+unison.
+
+‘Macaroni cheese,’ growled Topsy, speaking from the very depth of the
+cork soles she wore to keep her feet dry; ‘there’s nothing more bilious.
+I couldn’t look at it.’
+
+‘Ah,’ observed Mrs Pulchop, ‘you’re only a weak gal, and men is that
+obstinate they’d swaller bricks like ostriges sooner nor give in as it
+hurt ‘em. You shall ‘ave a nice dinner, Mrs Vanloops, tho’ I can’t deny
+but what it ull be bilious.’
+
+Thus warned, Kitty retired into her own room and made herself nice for
+Gaston to look on when he came.
+
+Poor thing, it was so rarely now that he came home to dinner, that a
+visit from him was regarded by her in the light of a treat. She dressed
+herself in a pretty white dress and tied a blue sash round her waist,
+so that she might look the same to him as when he first saw her. But
+her face was now worn and white, and as she looked at her pallor in the
+glass she wished she had some rouge to bring a touch of colour to her
+cheeks. She tried to smile in her own merry way at the wan reflection
+she beheld, but the effort was a failure, and she burst into tears.
+
+At six o’clock everything was ready for dinner, and having seen that all
+was in good order, Kitty walked outside to watch for Gaston.
+
+There was a faint, warm, light outside, and the sky was of a pale
+opaline tint, while the breeze blowing across the garden brought the
+perfume of the flowers to her, putting Kitty in mind of Mrs Villiers’
+garden at Ballarat. Oh, those innocent days! would they never come
+again? Alas! she knew that they would not--the subtle feeling of youth
+had left her for ever; and this girl, leaning up against the house with
+her golden head resting on her arm, knew that the change had come over
+her which turns all from youth to age.
+
+Suddenly she heard the rattle of wheels, and rousing herself from her
+reverie, she saw a hansom cab at the gate, and M. Vandeloup standing on
+the pavement paying the driver. She also heard her lover tell the cabman
+to call for him at eight o’clock, and her heart sank within her as she
+thought that he would be gone again in two hours. The cab drove off,
+and she stood cold and silent on the verandah waiting for Gaston,
+who sauntered slowly up the walk with one hand in the pocket of his
+trousers. He was in evening dress, and the night being warm he did not
+wear an overcoat, so looked tall and slim in his dark clothes as he came
+up the path swinging his cane gaily to and fro.
+
+‘Well, Bebe,’ he said, brightly, as he bent down and kissed her, ‘here I
+am, you see; I hope you’ve got a nice dinner for me?’
+
+‘Oh, yes,’ answered Kitty, trying to smile, and walking before him into
+the house; ‘I told Mrs Pulchop, and she has made special preparations.’
+
+‘How is that walking hospital?’ asked Vandeloup, carelessly taking off
+his hat; ‘I suppose she is ill as usual.’
+
+‘So she says,’ replied Kitty, with a laugh, as he put his arm in hers
+and walked into the room; ‘she is always ill.’
+
+‘Why, Bebe, how charming you look tonight,’ said Vandeloup, holding her
+at arm’s length; ‘quite like your old self.’
+
+And indeed she looked very pretty, for the excitement of seeing him had
+brightened her eyes and flushed her cheeks, and standing in the warm
+light of the lamp, with her golden hair floating round her head, she
+looked like a lovely picture.
+
+‘You are not going away very soon?’ she whispered to Gaston, coming
+close to him, and putting her hand on his shoulder; ‘I see so little of
+you now.’
+
+‘My dear child, I can’t help it,’ he said, carelessly removing her hand
+and walking over to the dinner table; ‘I have an engagement in town
+tonight.’
+
+‘Ah, you no longer care for me,’ said Kitty, with a stifled sob.
+
+Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.
+
+‘If you are going to make a scene,’ he said, coldly, ‘please postpone
+it. I don’t want my appetite taken away; would you kindly see if the
+dinner is ready?’
+
+Kitty dried her eyes and rang the bell, upon which Mrs Pulchop glided
+into the room, still wrapped in her heavy shawl.
+
+‘It ain’t quite ready yet, sir,’ she said, in answer to Gaston’s
+question; ‘Topsy ‘aving been bad with the toothache, which you can’t
+expect people to cook dinners as is ill!’
+
+‘Why don’t you send her to the hospital?’ said Vandeloup, with a yawn,
+looking at his watch.
+
+‘Never,’ retorted Mrs Pulchop, in a decisively shrill voice; ‘their
+medicines ain’t pure, and they leaves you at the mercy of doctors to be
+practised on like a pianer. Topsy may go to the cemetery like her poor
+dear father, but never to an inquisition of a hospital;’ and with this
+Mrs Pulchop faded out of the room, for her peculiar mode of egress could
+hardly be called walking out.
+
+At last dinner made its appearance, and Kitty recovering her spirits,
+they had a very pleasant meal together, and then Gaston sat over his
+coffee with a cigarette, talking to Kitty.
+
+He never was without a cigarette in his mouth, and his fingers were
+all stained a yellowish brown by the nicotine. Kitty lay back in a big
+arm-chair listening to his idle talk and admiring him as he sat at the
+dinner table.
+
+‘Can’t you stay tonight?’ she said, looking imploringly at him.
+
+Vandeloup shook his head gently.
+
+‘I have an engagement, as I told you before,’ he said, lazily; ‘besides,
+evenings at home are so dreary.’
+
+‘I will be here,’ said Kitty, reproachfully.
+
+‘That will, of course, make a difference,’ answered Gaston, with a faint
+sneer; ‘but you know,’ shrugging his shoulders, ‘I do not cultivate the
+domestic virtues.’
+
+‘What will you do when we are married?’ said Kitty, with an uneasy
+laugh.
+
+‘Enough for the day is the evil thereof,’ replied M. Vandeloup, with a
+gay smile.
+
+‘What do you mean?’ asked the girl, with a sudden start.
+
+Vandeloup arose from his seat, and lighting another cigarette he lounged
+over to the fireplace, and leaned against the mantelpiece with his hands
+in his pockets.
+
+‘I mean that when we are married it will be time enough to talk about
+such things,’ he answered, looking at her through his eyelashes.
+
+‘Then we will talk about them very shortly,’ said Kitty, with an angry
+laugh, as her hands clenched the arms of the chair tightly; ‘for the
+year is nearly up, and you promised to marry me at the end of it.’
+
+‘How many things do we intend to do that are never carried out?’ said
+Gaston, gently. ‘Do you mean that you will break your promise?’ she
+asked, with a scared face.
+
+Vandeloup removed the cigarette from his mouth, and, leaning one elbow
+on the mantelpiece, looked at her with a smile.
+
+‘My dear,’ he said, quietly, ‘things are not going well with me at
+present, and I want money badly.’
+
+‘Well?’ asked Kitty in a whisper, her heart beating loudly.
+
+‘You are not rich,’ said her lover, ‘so why should we two paupers get
+married, only to plunge ourselves into misery?’
+
+‘Then you refuse to marry me?’ she said, rising to her feet.
+
+He bowed his head gently.
+
+‘At present, yes,’ he answered, and replaced the cigarette between his
+lips.
+
+Kitty stood for a moment as if turned to stone, and then throwing up
+her hands with a gesture of despair, fell back into the chair, and burst
+into a flood of tears. Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders in a resigned
+sort of manner, and glanced at his watch to see when it would be time
+for him to go. Meanwhile he smoked quietly on, and Kitty, after sobbing
+for some time, dried her eyes, and sat up in the chair again.
+
+‘How long is this going to last?’ she asked, in a hard voice.
+
+‘Till I get rich!’
+
+‘That may be a long time?’
+
+‘It may.’
+
+‘Perhaps never?’
+
+‘Perhaps!’
+
+‘And then I will never be your wife?’
+
+‘Unfortunately, no.’
+
+‘You coward!’ burst forth Kitty, rising from her seat, and crossing over
+to him; ‘you made me leave my home with your false promises, and now you
+refuse to make me the only reparation that is in your power.’
+
+‘Circumstances are against any virtuous intentions I may entertain,’
+retorted Vandeloup, coolly.
+
+Kitty looked at him for a moment, then ran over to a desk near the
+window, and took from thence a small bottle of white glass with two
+red bands round it. She let the lid of the desk fall with a bang, then
+crossed to Vandeloup, holding the bottle up before him.
+
+‘Do you know what this is?’ she asked, in a harsh voice.
+
+‘The poison I made in Ballarat,’ he answered, coolly, blowing a wreath
+of smoke; ‘how did you get hold of it?’
+
+‘I found it in your private desk,’ she said, coldly.
+
+‘That was wrong, my dear,’ he answered, gently, ‘you should never betray
+confidences--I left the desk in your charge, and it should have been
+sacred to you.’
+
+‘Out of your own mouth are you condemned,’ said the girl, quickly; ‘you
+have betrayed my confidence and ruined me, so if you do not fix a day
+for our marriage, I swear I will drink this and die at your feet.’
+
+‘How melodramatic you are, Bebe,’ said Vandeloup, coolly; ‘you put me in
+mind of Croisette in “Le Sphinx”.’
+
+‘You don’t believe I will do it.’
+
+‘No! I do not.’
+
+‘Then see.’ She took the stopper out of the bottle and held it to her
+lips. Vandeloup did not stir, but, still smoking, stood looking at her
+with a smile. His utter callousness was too much for her, and replacing
+the stopper again, she slipped the bottle into her pocket and let her
+hands fall idly by her side.
+
+‘I thought you would not do it,’ replied Gaston, smoothly, looking at
+his watch; ‘you must really excuse me, I hear the cab wheels outside.’
+
+Kitty, however, placed herself in front of him as he moved towards the
+door.
+
+‘Listen to me,’ she said, in a harsh voice, with white face and flaming
+eyes; ‘to-night I leave this house for ever.’
+
+He bowed his head.
+
+‘As it pleases you,’ he replied, simply.
+
+‘My God!’ she cried, ‘have you no love for me now?’
+
+‘No,’ he answered, coldly and brutally, ‘I am tired of you.’
+
+She fell on her knees and clutched his hand.
+
+‘Dear Gaston! dear Gaston!’ she cried, covering it with kisses, ‘think
+how young I am, how my life is ruined, and by you. I gave up everything
+for your sake--home, father, and friends--you will not cast me off
+like this after all I have sacrificed for you? Oh, for God’s sake,
+speak--speak!’
+
+‘My dear,’ said Vandeloup, gravely, looking down at the kneeling figure
+with the streaming eyes and clenched hands, ‘as long as you choose to
+stay here I will be your friend--I cannot afford to marry you, but
+while you are with me our lives will be as they have been; good-bye
+at present,’ touching her forehead coldly with his lips, ‘I will call
+to-morrow afternoon to see how you are, and I trust this will be the
+last of such scenes.’
+
+He drew his hand away from hers, and she sat on the floor dull and
+silent, with her eyes fixed on the ground and an aching in her heart.
+Vandeloup went into the hall, put on his hat, then lighting another
+cigarette and taking his stick, walked gaily out of the house, humming
+an air from ‘La Belle Helene’. The cab was waiting for him at the door,
+and telling the man to drive to the Bachelors’ Club, he entered the
+cab and rattled away down the street without a thought for the
+broken-hearted woman he left behind.
+
+Kitty sat on the floor with her folded hands lying carelessly on her lap
+and her eyes staring idly at the carpet. This, then, was the end of all
+her hopes and joys--she was cast aside carelessly by this man now that
+he wearied of her. Love’s young dream had been sweet indeed; but, ah!
+how bitter was the awakening. Her castles in the air had all melted into
+clouds, and here in the very flower of her youth she felt that her life
+was ruined, and she was as one wandering in a sterile waste, with a
+black and starless sky overhead. She clasped her hands with a sensation
+of pain, and a rose at her breast fell down withered and dead. She took
+it up with listless fingers, and with the quiver of her hand the leaves
+fell off and were scattered over her white dress in a pink shower. It
+was an allegory of her life, she thought. Once it had been as fresh and
+full of fragrance as this dead rose; then it had withered, and now she
+saw all her hopes and beliefs falling off one by one like the faded
+petals. Ah, there is no despair like that of youth; and Kitty, sitting
+on the floor with hot dry eyes and a pain in her heart, felt that the
+sun of her life had set for ever.
+
+**
+
+So still the night was. No moon as yet, but an innumerable blaze of
+stars set like diamonds in the dark blue sky. A smoky yellowish haze
+hung over the city, but down in the garden amid the flowers all was cool
+and fragrant. The house was quite dark, and a tall mulberry tree on one
+side of it was black against the clear sky. Suddenly the door opened,
+and a figure came out and closed the door softly after it. Down the
+path it came, and standing in the middle of the garden, raised a white
+tear-stained face to the dark sky. A dog barked in the distance, and
+then a fresh cold breeze came sweeping through the trees and stirring
+the still perfumes of the flowers. The figure threw its hands out
+towards the house with a gesture of despair, then gliding down the path
+it went out of the gate and stole quietly down the lonely street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+M. VANDELOUP HEARS SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE
+
+
+As he drove rapidly into town Gaston’s thoughts were anything but
+pleasant. Not that he was thinking about Kitty, for he regarded the
+scene he had with her as merely an outburst of hysterical passion, and
+did not dream she would take any serious step. He forgot all about her
+when he left the house, and, lying back in the cab smoking one of his
+everlasting cigarettes, pondered about his position. The fact was he
+was very hard up for money, and did not know where to turn for more. His
+luck at cards was so great that even the Bachelors, used as they were
+to losing large sums, began to murmur among themselves that M. Vandeloup
+was too clever, and as that young gentleman by no means desired to lose
+his popularity he stopped playing cards altogether, and so effectually
+silenced everyone. So this mode of making money was gone, and until
+Madame Midas arrived in town Vandeloup did not see how he was going
+to keep on living in his former style. But as he never denied himself
+anything while he had the money, he ordered the cabman to drive to
+Paton’s, the florist in Swanston Street, and there purchased a dainty
+bunch of flowers for his button hole. From thence he drove to his club,
+and there found a number of young fellows, including Mr Barty Jarper,
+all going to the Princess Theatre to see ‘The Mikado’. Barty rushed
+forward when Vandeloup appeared and noisily insisted he should come
+with them. The men had been dining, and were exhilarated with wine, so
+Vandeloup, not caring to appear at the theatre with such a noisy
+lot, excused himself. Barty and his friends, therefore, went off by
+themselves, and left Vandeloup alone. He picked up the evening paper
+and glanced over it with a yawn, when a name caught his eye which he had
+frequently noticed before.
+
+‘I say,’ he said to a tall, fair young fellow who had just entered, ‘who
+is this Meddlechip the paper is full of?’
+
+‘Don’t you know?’ said the other, in surprise; ‘he’s one of our richest
+men, and very generous with his money.’
+
+‘Oh, I see! buys popularity,’ replied Vandeloup, coolly; ‘how is it I’ve
+never met him?’
+
+‘He’s been to China or Chile--or--something commencing with a C,’
+returned the young man, vaguely; ‘he only came back to Melbourne last
+week; you are sure to meet him sooner or later.’
+
+‘Thanks, I’m not very anxious,’ replied Vandeloup, with a yawn; ‘money
+in my eyes does not compensate for being bored; where are you going
+to-night?’
+
+‘“Mikado”,’ answered the other, whose name was Bellthorp; ‘Jarper asked
+me to go up there; he’s got a box.’
+
+‘How does he manage to pay for all these things?’ asked Vandeloup,
+rising; ‘he’s only in a bank, and does not get much money.’
+
+‘My dear fellow,’ said Bellthorp, putting his arm in that of
+Vandeloup’s, ‘wherever he gets it, he always has it, so as long as he
+pays his way it’s none of our business; come and have a drink.’
+
+Vandeloup assented with a laugh, and they went to the bar.
+
+‘I’ve got a cab at the door,’ he said to Bellthorp, after they had
+finished their drinks, and were going downstairs; ‘come with me, and
+I’ll go up to the Princess also; Jarper asked me and I refused, but men
+as well as women are entitled to change their minds.’
+
+They got into the cab and drove up Collins Street to the Princess
+Theatre. After dismissing the cab, they went up stairs and found
+the first act was just over, and the bar was filled with a crowd of
+gentlemen, among whom Barty and his friends were conspicuous. On the one
+side the doors opened on to the wide stone balcony, where a number of
+ladies were seated, and on the other balcony a lot of men were smoking.
+Leaving Bellthorp with Jarper, Vandeloup ordered a brandy and soda and
+went out on the balcony to smoke.
+
+The bell rang to indicate the curtain was going to rise on the second
+act, and the bar and balconies gradually emptied themselves into the
+theatre. M. Vandeloup, however, still sat smoking, and occasionally
+drinking his brandy and soda, while he thought over his difficulties,
+and wondered how he could get out of them. It was a wonderfully hot
+night, and not even the dark blue of the moonless sky, studded with
+stars, could give any sensation of coolness. Round the balcony were
+several windows belonging to the dressing-rooms of the theatre, and the
+lights within shone through the vivid red of the blinds with which they
+were covered. The door leading into the bar was wide open, and within
+everything seemed hot, even under the cool, white glare of the electric
+lights, which shone in large oval-shaped globes hanging from the brass
+supports in clusters like those grapes known as ladies’ fingers. In
+front stretched the high balustrade of the balcony, and as Vandeloup
+leaned back in his chair he could see the white blaze of the electric
+lights rising above this, and then the luminous darkness of the summer’s
+night. Beyond a cluster of trees, with a path, lit by gas lamps, going
+through it, the lights of which shone like dull yellow stars. On the
+right arose the great block of Parliament-buildings, with the confused
+mass of the scaffolding, standing up black and dense against the sky. A
+pleasant murmur arose from the crowded pavement below, and through the
+incessant rattle of cabs and sharp, clear cries of the street boys,
+Gaston could hear the shrill tones of a violin playing the dreamy melody
+of the ‘One Summer’s Night in Munich’ valse, about which all Melbourne
+was then raving.
+
+He was so occupied with his own thoughts that he did not notice two
+gentlemen who came in from the bar, and taking seats a little distant
+from him, ordered drinks from the waiter who came to attend to them.
+They were both in evening dress, and had apparently left the opera in
+order to talk business, for they kept conversing eagerly, and their
+voices striking on Vandeloup’s ear he glanced round at them and then
+relapsed into his former inattentive position. Now, however, though
+apparently absorbed in his own thoughts, he was listening to every word
+they said, for he had caught the name of The Magpie Reef, a quartz mine,
+which had lately been floated on the market, the shares of which had
+run up to a pound, and then, as bad reports were circulated about
+it, dropped suddenly to four shillings. Vandeloup recognised one
+as Barraclough, a well-known stockbroker, but the other was a dark,
+wiry-looking man of medium height, whom he had never seen before.
+
+‘I tell you it’s a good thing,’ said Barraclough, vehemently laying his
+hand on the table; ‘Tollerby is the manager, and knows everything about
+it.’
+
+‘Gad, he ought to,’ retorted the other with a laugh, ‘if he’s the
+manager; but I don’t believe in it, dear boy, I never did; it started
+with a big splash, and was going to be a second Long Tunnel according to
+the prospectus; now the shares are only four shillings--pshaw!’
+
+‘Yes, but you forget the shares ran up to a pound,’ replied Barraclough,
+quickly; ‘and now they are so cheap we can snap them up all over the
+market, and then--’
+
+‘Well?’ asked the other, with interest.
+
+‘They will run up, old fellow--see?’ and the Broker rubbed his hands
+gleefully.
+
+‘How are you going to get up a “Boom” on them?’ asked the wiry man,
+sceptically; ‘the public won’t buy blindly, they must see something.’
+
+‘And so they shall,’ said Barraclough, eagerly; ‘Tollerby is sending
+down some of the stone.’
+
+‘From the Magpie Reef?’ asked the other, suspiciously.
+
+‘Of course,’ retorted the Broker, indignantly; ‘you did not think it
+was salted, did you? There is gold in the reef, but it is patchy. See,’
+pulling out a pocket-book, ‘I got this telegram from Tollerby at four
+o’clock to-day;’ he took a telegram from the pocket-book and handed it
+to his companion.
+
+‘Struck it rich--evidently pocket--thirty ounces to machine,’ read
+the other slowly; ‘gad! that looks well, why don’t you put it in the
+papers?’
+
+‘Because I don’t hold enough shares,’ replied the other, impatiently;
+‘don’t you understand? To-morrow I go on ‘Change and buy up all the
+shares at four shillings I can lay my hands on, then at the end of the
+week the samples of stone--very rich--come down. I publish this telegram
+from the manager, and the “Boom” starts.’
+
+‘How high do you think the shares will go?’ asked the wiry man,
+thoughtfully.
+
+Barraclough shrugged his shoulders, and replaced the telegram in his
+pocket-book.
+
+‘Two or three pounds, perhaps more,’ he replied, rising. ‘At all events,
+it’s a good thing, and if you go in with me, we’ll clear a good few
+thousand out of it.’
+
+‘Come and see me to-morrow morning,’ said the wiry man, also rising. ‘I
+think I’ll stand in.’
+
+Barraclough rubbed his hands gleefully, and then slipping his arm
+in that of his companion they left the balcony and went back to the
+theatre.
+
+Vandeloup felt every nerve in his body tingling. Here was a chance to
+make money. If he only had a few hundreds he could buy up all the Magpie
+shares he could get and reap the benefit of the rise. Five hundred
+pounds! If he could obtain that sum he could buy two thousand five
+hundred shares, and if they went to three pounds, he could clear nearly
+eight thousand. What an idea! It was ripe fruit tumbling off the tree
+without the trouble of plucking it. But five hundred pounds! He had not
+as many pence, and he did not know where to get it. If he could only
+borrow it from someone--but then he could offer no security. A sense of
+his own helplessness came on him as he saw this golden tide flowing
+past his door, and yet was unable to take advantage of it. Five hundred
+pounds! The sum kept buzzing in his head like a swarm of bees, and he
+threw himself down again in his chair to try and think where he could
+get it.
+
+A noise disturbed him, and he saw that the opera was over, and a crowd
+of gentlemen were thronging into the bar. Jarper was among them, and he
+thought he would speak to him on the subject. Yes, Barty was a clever
+little fellow, and seemed always able to get money. Perhaps he would
+be able to assist him. He stepped out of the balcony into the light and
+touched Barty on the shoulder as he stood amid his friends.
+
+‘Hullo! it’s you!’ cried Barty, turning round. ‘Where have you been, old
+chap?’
+
+‘Out on the balcony,’ answered Vandeloup, curtly.
+
+‘Come and have supper with us,’ said Barty, hospitably. ‘We are going to
+have some at Leslie’s.’
+
+‘Yes, do come,’ urged Bellthorp, putting his arm in that of Vandeloup’s;
+‘we’ll have no end of fun.’
+
+Vandeloup was just going to accept, as he thought on the way he could
+speak privately to Barty about this scheme he had, when he saw a stout
+gentleman at the end of the room taking a cup of coffee at the counter,
+and talking to another gentleman who was very tall and thin. The figure
+of the stout gentleman seemed familiar to Vandeloup, and at this moment
+he turned slowly round and looked down the room. Gaston gave a start
+when he saw his face, and then smiled in a gratified manner to himself.
+
+‘Who is that gentleman with the coffee?’ he asked Barty.
+
+‘Those stout and lean kine,’ said Barty, airily, ‘puts one in mind of
+Pharaoh’s dream, doesn’t it?’
+
+‘Yes, yes!’ retorted Gaston, impatiently; ‘but who are they?’
+
+‘The long one is Fell, the railway contractor,’ said Barty, glancing
+with some surprise at Vandeloup, ‘and the other is old Meddlechip, the
+millionaire.’
+
+‘Meddlechip,’ echoed Vandeloup, as if to himself; ‘my faith!’
+
+‘Yes,’ broke in Bellthorp, quickly; ‘the one we were speaking of at the
+club--do you know him?’
+
+‘I fancy I do,’ said Vandeloup, with a strange smile. ‘You must excuse
+me to your supper to-night.’
+
+‘No, we won’t,’ said Barty, firmly; ‘you must come.’
+
+‘Then I’ll look in later,’ said Vandeloup, who had not the slightest
+intention of going. ‘Will that do?’
+
+‘I suppose it will have to,’ said Bellthorp, in an injured tone; ‘but
+why can’t you come now?’
+
+‘I’ve got to see about some business,’ said Vandeloup.
+
+‘What, at this hour of the night?’ cried Jarper, in a voice of disgust.
+
+Vandeloup nodded, and lit a cigarette.
+
+‘Well, mind you come in later,’ said Barty, and then he and his friends
+left the bar, after making Vandeloup promise faithfully he would come.
+
+Gaston sauntered slowly up to the coffee bar, and asked for a cup in
+his usual musical voice, but when the stout gentleman heard him speak he
+turned pale and looked up. The thin one had gone off to talk to someone
+else, so when Vandeloup got his coffee he turned slowly round and looked
+straight at Meddlechip seated in the chair.
+
+‘Good evening, M. Kestrike,’ he said, quietly.
+
+Meddlechip, whose face was usually red and florid-looking, turned
+ghastly pale, and sprang to his feet.
+
+‘Octave Braulard!’ he gasped, placing his coffee cup on the counter.
+
+‘At your service,’ said Vandeloup, looking rapidly round to see that no
+one overheard the name, ‘but here I am Gaston Vandeloup.’
+
+Meddlechip passed his handkerchief over his face and moistened his dry
+lips with his tongue.
+
+‘How did you get here?’ he asked, in a strangled voice.
+
+‘It’s a long story,’ said M. Vandeloup, putting his coffee cup down and
+wiping his lips with his handkerchief; ‘suppose we go and have supper
+somewhere, and I’ll tell you all about it.’
+
+‘I don’t want any supper,’ said Meddlechip, sullenly, his face having
+regained its normal colour. ‘Possibly not, but I do,’ replied Vandeloup,
+sweetly, taking his arm; ‘come, let us go.’
+
+Meddlechip did not resist, but walked passively out of the bar with
+Vandeloup, much to the astonishment of the thin gentleman, who called
+out to him but without getting any answer.
+
+Meddlechip went to the cloak room and put on his coat and hat. Then
+he followed Vandeloup down the stairs and paused at the door while the
+Frenchman hailed a hansom. When it drove up, however, he stopped short
+at the edge of the pavement.
+
+‘I won’t go,’ he said, determinedly.
+
+Vandeloup looked at him with a peculiar gleam in his dark eyes, and
+bowed.
+
+‘Let me persuade you, Monsieur,’ he said, blandly, holding the door of
+the cab open.
+
+Meddlechip glanced at him, and then, with a sigh of resignation, entered
+the cab, followed by Vandeloup.
+
+‘Where to, sir?’ asked the cabman, through the trap.
+
+‘To Leslie’s Supper Rooms,’ replied the Frenchman, and the cab drove
+off.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE CASE OF ADELE BLONDET
+
+
+Leslie’s Supper Rooms in Bourke Street East were very well known--that
+is, among a certain class. Religious people and steady businessmen knew
+nothing about such a place except by reputation, and looked upon it,
+with horror, as a haunt of vice and dissipation.
+
+Though Leslie’s, in common with other places had to close at a certain
+hour, yet when the shutters were up, the door closed, and the lights
+extinguished in the front of the house, there was plenty of life and
+bustle going on at the back, where there were charmingly furnished
+little rooms for supper parties. Barty Jarper had engaged one of these
+apartments, and with about a dozen young men was having a good time of
+it when Vandeloup and Meddlechip drove up. After dismissing the cab and
+looking up and down the street to see that no policeman was in
+sight, Vandeloup knocked at the door in a peculiar manner, and it was
+immediately opened in a stealthy kind of way. Gaston gave his name,
+whereupon they were allowed to enter, and the door was closed after
+them in the same quiet manner, all of which was very distasteful to Mr
+Meddlechip, who, being a public man and a prominent citizen, felt that
+he was breaking the laws he had assisted to make. He looked round in
+some disgust at the crowds of waiters, and at the glimpses he caught
+every now and then of gentlemen in evening dress, and what annoyed him
+more than anything else--ladies in bright array. Oh! a dissipated place
+was Leslie’s, and even in the daytime had a rakish-looking appearance as
+if it had been up all night and knew a thing or two. Mr Meddlechip would
+have retreated from this den of iniquity if he could, but as he wanted
+to have a thorough explanation with Vandeloup, he meekly followed the
+Frenchman through a well-lighted passage, with statues on either side
+holding lamps, to a little room beautifully furnished, wherein a supper
+table was laid out. Here the waiter who conducted them took their hats
+and Meddlechip’s coat and hung them up, then waited respectfully for
+M. Vandeloup to give his orders. A portly looking waiter he was, with
+a white waistcoat, a white shirt, which bulged out in a most obtrusive
+manner, and a large white cravat, which was tied round an equally large
+white collar. When he walked he rolled along like a white-crested wave,
+and with his napkin under his arm, the heel of one foot in the hollow of
+the other, and his large red face, surmounted by a few straggling tufts
+of black hair, he was truly wonderful to behold.
+
+This magnificent creature, who answered to the name of Gurchy, received
+Vandeloup’s orders with a majestic bend of his head, then rolling up
+to Mr Meddlechip, he presented the bill of fare to that gentleman, who,
+however, refused it.
+
+‘I don’t want any supper,’ he said, curtly.
+
+Gurchy, though a waiter, was human, and looked astonished, while
+Vandeloup remonstrated in a suave manner.
+
+‘But, my dear sir,’ he said, leaning back in his chair, ‘you must have
+something to eat. I assure you,’ with a significant smile, ‘you will
+need it.’
+
+Meddlechip’s lips twitched a little as the Frenchman spoke, then, with
+an uneasy laugh, he ordered something, and drew his chair up to the
+table.
+
+‘And, waiter,’ said Vandeloup, softly, as Gurchy was rolling out of the
+door, ‘bring some wine, will you? Pommery, I think, is best,’ he added,
+turning to Meddlechip.
+
+‘What you like,’ returned that gentleman, impatiently, ‘I don’t care.’
+
+‘That’s a great mistake,’ replied Gaston, coolly; ‘bad wine plays the
+deuce with one’s digestion--two bottles of Pommery, waiter.’
+
+Gurchy nodded, that is to say his head disappeared for a moment in the
+foam of his collar, then re-appeared again as he slowly rolled out of
+the door and vanished.
+
+‘Now, then, sir,’ said Meddlechip, sharply, rising from his seat and
+closing the door, ‘what did you bring me here for?’
+
+M. Vandeloup raised his eyebrows in surprise.
+
+‘How energetic you are, my dear Kestrike,’ he said, smoothly, lying down
+on the sofa, and contemplating his shoes with great satisfaction; ‘just
+the same noisy, jolly fellow as of yore.’
+
+‘Damn you!’ said the other, fiercely, at which Gaston laughed.
+
+‘You had better leave that to God,’ he answered, mockingly; ‘he
+understands more about it than you do.’
+
+‘Oh, I know you of old,’ said Meddlechip, walking up and down excitedly;
+‘I know you of old, with your sneers and your coolness, but it won’t do
+here,’ stopping opposite the sofa, and glaring down at Vandeloup; ‘it
+won’t do here!’
+
+‘So you’ve said twice,’ replied M. Vandeloup, with a yawn. ‘How do you
+want me to conduct myself? Do tell me; I am always open to improvement.’
+
+‘You must leave Australia,’ said Meddlechip, sharply, and breathing
+hard.
+
+‘If I refuse?’ asked M. Vandeloup, lazily, smiling to himself.
+
+‘I will denounce you as a convict escaped from New Caledonia!’ hissed
+the other, putting his hands in his pockets, and bending forward.
+
+‘Indeed,’ said Gaston, with a charming smile, ‘I don’t think you will go
+so far as that, my friend.’
+
+‘I swear,’ said Meddlechip, loudly, raising his hand, ‘I swear--’
+
+‘Oh, fie!’ observed M. Vandeloup, in a shocked tone; ‘an old man like
+you should not swear; it’s very wrong, I assure you; besides,’ with a
+disparaging glance, ‘you are not suited to melodrama.’
+
+Meddlechip evidently saw it was no good trying to fight against the
+consummate coolness of this young man, so with a great effort resolved
+to adapt himself to the exigencies of the case, and fight his adversary
+with his own weapons.
+
+‘Well,’ he said at length, resuming his seat at the table, and trying to
+speak calmly, though his flushed face and quivering lips showed what
+an effort it cost him; ‘let us have supper first, and we can talk
+afterwards.’
+
+‘Ah, that’s much better,’ remarked M. Vandeloup, sitting up to the
+table, and unrolling his napkin. ‘I assure you, my dear fellow, if you
+treat me well, I’m a very easy person to deal with.’
+
+The eyes of the two men met for a moment across the table, and
+Vandeloup’s had such a meaning look in them, that Meddlechip dropped his
+own with a shiver.
+
+The door opened, and the billowy waiter rolled up to the table, and
+having left a deposit of plates and food thereon, subsided once more out
+of the door, then rolled in again with the champagne. He drew the cork
+of one of the bottles, filled the glasses on the table, and then after
+giving a glance round to see that all was in order, suddenly found that
+it was ebb-tide, and rolled slowly out of the door, which he closed
+after him.
+
+Meddlechip ate his supper in silence, but drank a good deal of champagne
+to keep his courage up for the coming ordeal, which he knew he must go
+through. Vandeloup, on the other hand, ate and drank very little, as he
+talked gaily all the time about theatres, racing, boating, in fact of
+everything except the thing the other man wanted to hear.
+
+‘I never mix up business with pleasure, my dear fellow,’ said Gaston,
+amiably, guessing his companion’s thoughts; ‘when we have finished
+supper and are enjoying our cigars, I will tell you a little story.’
+
+‘I don’t want to hear it,’ retorted the other, harshly, having an
+intuitive idea what the story would be about.
+
+‘Possibly not,’ replied M. Vandeloup, smoothly; ‘nevertheless it is my
+wish that you should hear it.’
+
+Meddlechip looked as if he were inclined to resent this plain speaking,
+but after a pause evidently thought better of it, and went on tranquilly
+eating his supper.
+
+When they had finished Gaston rang the bell, and when the billow rolled
+in, ordered a fresh bottle of wine and some choice cigars of a brand
+well known at Leslie’s. Gurchy’s head disappeared in foam again, and did
+not emerge therefrom till he was out of the door.
+
+Try one of these,’ said M. Vandeloup, affably, to Meddlechip, when
+the billow had rolled in with the cigars and wine, ‘it’s an excellent
+brand.’
+
+‘I don’t care about smoking,’ answered Meddlechip.
+
+‘To please me,’ urged M. Vandeloup, persuasively; whereupon Meddlechip
+took one, and having lighted it puffed away evidently under protest,
+while the billow opened the new bottle of wine, freshened up the
+glasses, and then rolled majestically out of the door, like a tidal
+wave.
+
+‘Now then for the story,’ said M. Vandeloup, leaning back luxuriously on
+the sofa, and blowing a cloud of smoke.
+
+‘I don’t want to hear it,’ retorted the other, quickly; ‘name your terms
+and let us end the matter.’
+
+‘Pardon me,’ said M. Vandeloup, with a smile, ‘but I refuse to accept
+any terms till I have given you thoroughly to understand what I mean; so
+you must hear this little tale of Adele Blondet.’
+
+‘For God’s sake, no!’ cried the other, hoarsely, rising to his feet; ‘I
+tell you I am haunted by it; by day and by night, sleeping or waking, I
+see her face ever before me like an accusing angel.’
+
+‘Curious,’ murmured M. Vandeloup, ‘especially as she was not by any
+means an angel.’
+
+‘I thought it was done with,’ said Meddlechip, twisting his fingers
+together, while the large drops of perspiration stood on his forehead,
+‘but here you come like a spectre from the past and revive all the old
+horrors.’
+
+‘If you call Adele a horror,’ retorted Vandeloup, coolly, ‘I am
+certainly going to revive her, so you had best sit down and hear me to
+the end, for you certainly will not turn me from my purpose.’
+
+Meddlechip sank back into his chair with a groan, while his relentless
+enemy curled himself up on the sofa in a more comfortable position and
+began to talk.
+
+‘We will begin the story,’ said M. Vandeloup, in a conversational tone,
+with an airy wave of his delicate white hand, ‘in the good old-fashioned
+style of our fairy tales. Once upon a time--let us say three years
+ago--there lived in Paris a young man called Octave Braulard, who was
+well born and comfortably off. He had a fancy to be a doctor, and was
+studying for the medical profession when he became entangled with a
+woman. Mademoiselle Adele Blondet was a charmingly ugly actress, who was
+at that time the rage of Paris. She attracted all the men, not by
+her looks, but by her tongue. Octave Braulard,’ went on M. Vandeloup,
+complacently looking at himself, ‘was handsome, and she fell in love
+with him. She became his mistress, and caused a nine days’ wonder in
+Paris by remaining constant to him for six months. Then there came to
+Paris an English gentleman from Australia--name, Kestrike; position,
+independent; income, enormous. He had left Madame his wife in London,
+and came to our wicked Paris to amuse himself. He saw Adele Blondet, and
+was introduced to her by Braulard; result, Kestrike betrayed his friend
+Braulard by stealing from him his mistress. Why was this? Was Kestrike
+handsome? No. Was he fascinating? No. Was he rich? Yes. Therein lay
+the secret; Adele loved the purse, not the man. Braulard,’ said Gaston,
+rising from the sofa quickly and walking across the room, ‘felt his
+honour wounded. He remonstrated with Adele, no use; he offered to fight
+a duel with the perfidious Kestrike, no use; the thief was a coward.’
+
+‘No,’ cried Meddlechip, rising, ‘no coward.’
+
+‘I say, yes!’ said Vandeloup, crossing to him, and forcing him back
+in his chair; ‘he betrayed his friend and refused to give him the
+satisfaction of a gentleman. What did Braulard do? Rest quiet?
+No. Revenge his honour? Yes! One night,’ pursued Gaston, in a low
+concentrated voice, grasping Meddlechip’s wrist firmly, and looking at
+him with fiery eyes, ‘Braulard prepared a poison, a narcotic which was
+quick in its action, fatal in its results. He goes to the house of Adele
+Blondet at half-past twelve o’clock--the hour now,’ he said, rapidly
+swinging round and pointing to the clock on the mantelpiece, which
+had just struck the half-hour; ‘he found them at supper,’ releasing
+Meddlechip’s wrist and crossing to the sofa; ‘he sat opposite Kestrike,
+as he does now,’ leaning forward and glaring at Meddlechip, who shrank
+back in his chair. ‘Adele, at the head of the table, laughs and smiles;
+she looks at her old lover and sees murder in his face; she is ill and
+retires to her room. Kestrike follows her to see what is the matter.
+Braulard is left alone; he produces a bottle and pours its contents into
+a cup of coffee, waiting for Adele. Kestrike returns, saying Adele is
+ill; she wants a drink. He takes her the poisoned cup of coffee; she
+drinks it and falls’--with a long breath--‘asleep. Kestrike returns to
+the room, asks Braulard to leave the house. Braulard refuses. Kestrike
+is afraid, and would leave himself; he rises from the table; so does
+Braulard;’--here Gaston rose and crossed to Meddlechip, who was also on
+his feet--‘he goes to Kestrike, seizes his wrist, thus--drags him to
+the bedroom, and there on the bed lies Adele Blondet--dead--killed by the
+poison of one lover given her by the other--and the murderers look at
+one another--thus.’
+
+Meddlechip wrenched his hand from Vandeloup’s iron grip and fell back
+ghastly white in his chair, with a strangled cry, while the Frenchman
+stood over him with eyes gleaming with hatred.
+
+‘Kestrike,’ pursued Vandeloup, rapidly, ‘is little known in Paris--his
+name is an assumed one--he leaves France before the police can discover
+how he has poisoned Adele Blondet, and crosses to England--meets Madame,
+his wife, and returns to Australia, where he is called--Meddlechip.’
+
+The man in the chair threw up his hands as if to keep the other off, and
+uttered a stifled cry.
+
+‘He then goes to China,’ went on Gaston, bending nearer to the shrinking
+figure, ‘and returns after twelve months, where he meets Octave Braulard
+in the theatre--yes, the two murderers meet in Melbourne! How came
+Braulard here? Was it chance? No. Was it design? No. Was it Fate? Yes.’
+
+He hissed the words in Meddlechip’s ear, and the wretched man shrank
+away from him again.
+
+‘Braulard,’ pursued Vandeloup, in a calmer tone, ‘also left the house of
+Adele Blondet. She is found dead; one of her lovers cannot be found; the
+other, Braulard, is accused of the crime; he defies the police to prove
+it; she has been poisoned. Bah! there is no trace. Braulard will be
+free. Stop! who is this man called Prevol, who appears? He is a fellow
+student of Braulard’s, and knows the poison. Braulard is lost! Prevol
+examines the body, proves that poison has been given--by whom? Braulard,
+and none other. He is sentenced to death; but he is so handsome that
+Paris urges pardon. No; it is not according to the law. Still, spare his
+life? Yes. His life is spared. The galleys at Toulon? No. New Caledonia?
+Yes. He is sent there. But is Braulard a coward? No. Does he rest as a
+convict? No. He makes friends with another convict; they steal a boat,
+and fly from the island; they drift, and drift, for days and days; the
+sun rises, the sun sets--still they drift; their food is giving out, the
+water in the barrel is low--God! are they to die of thirst and famine?
+No. The sky is red--like blood--the sun is sinking; land is in the
+distance--they are saved!’ falling on his knees; ‘they are saved, thank
+God!’
+
+Meddlechip, who had recovered himself, wiped his face with his
+handkerchief, and sneered with his white lips at the theatrical way
+Gaston was behaving in. Vandeloup saw this, and, springing to his feet,
+crossed to the millionaire.
+
+‘Braulard,’ he continued, quickly, ‘lands on the coast of Queensland;
+he comes to Sydney--no work; to Melbourne--no work; he goes to
+Ball’rat--work there at a gold-mine. Braulard takes the name of
+Vandeloup and makes money; he comes to Melbourne, lives there a year,
+he is in want of money, he is in despair; at the theatre he overhears a
+plan which will give him money, but he needs capital--despair again, he
+will never get it. Aha! Fate once more intervenes--he sees M. Kestrike,
+now Meddlechip, he will ask him for the money, and the question is, will
+he get it? So the story is at an end.’ He ended with his usual smile,
+all his excitement having passed away, and lounging over to the
+supper-table lit a cigarette and sat down on the sofa.
+
+Meddlechip sat silently looking at the disordered supper-table and
+thinking deeply. The dishes were scattered about the white cloth, and
+some vividly red cherries had fallen down from the fruit dish in the
+centre, some salt was spilt near his elbow, the napkins, twisted
+into thin wisps, were lying among the dirty dishes, and the champagne
+glasses, half filled with the straw-coloured wine, were standing near
+the empty bottles. Meddlechip thought for a few moments, and then looked
+up suddenly in a cool, collected, business-like manner.
+
+‘As I understand you,’ he said, in a steady voice, ‘the case stands
+thus: you know a portion, or rather, I should say, an episode of my
+life, I would gladly forget. I did not commit the murder.’
+
+‘No, but you gave her the poison.’
+
+‘Innocently I did, I confess.’
+
+‘Bah! who will believe that?’ retorted M. Vandeloup, with a shrug; ‘but
+never mind this at present; let me hear what you intend to do.’
+
+‘You know a secret,’ said Meddlechip, nervously, ‘which is dangerous to
+me; you want to sell it; well, I will be the buyer--name your price.’
+
+‘Five hundred pounds,’ said Vandeloup, quietly.
+
+‘Is that all?’ asked the other, with a start of surprise; ‘I was
+prepared for five thousand.’
+
+‘I am not exorbitant in my demands,’ answered Vandeloup, smoothly; ‘and
+as I told you, I have a scheme on hand by which I may make a lot of
+money-five hundred pounds is sufficient to do what I want. If the scheme
+succeeds, I will be rich enough to do without any more money from you.’
+
+‘Yes; but if it fails?’ said Meddlechip, doubtfully.
+
+‘If it fails, I will be obliged to draw on you again,’ returned Gaston,
+candidly; ‘you can’t say, however, that I am behaving badly to you.’
+
+‘No,’ answered Meddlechip, looking at him. ‘I must say you are easier
+to deal with than I anticipated. Well, if I give you my cheque for five
+hundred--’
+
+‘Say six hundred,’ observed Vandeloup, rising and going to a small table
+in the corner of the room on which were pens and ink. ‘I want an extra
+hundred.’
+
+‘Six hundred then be it,’ answered Meddlechip, quietly, rising and going
+to his overcoat, from whence he took his cheque book. ‘For this amount
+you will be silent.’
+
+M. Vandeloup bowed gracefully.
+
+‘On my word of honour,’ he replied, gaily; ‘but, of course,’ with a
+sudden glance at Meddlechip, ‘you will treat me as a friend--ask me to
+your house, and introduce me to Madame, your wife.’
+
+‘I don’t see the necessity,’ returned Meddlechip, angrily, going over to
+the small table and sitting down.
+
+‘Pardon me, I do’ answered the Frenchman, with a dangerous gleam in his
+eyes.
+
+‘Well, well, I agree,’ said Meddlechip, testily, taking up a pen and
+opening his cheque book. ‘You, of course, can dictate your own terms.’
+
+‘I understand that perfectly,’ replied Vandeloup, delicately, lighting
+a cigarette, ‘and have done so. You can’t say they are hard, as I said
+before.’
+
+Meddlechip did not answer, but wrote out a cheque for six hundred
+pounds, and then handed it to Vandeloup, who received it with a bow and
+slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.
+
+‘With this,’ he said, touching his pocket, ‘I hope to make nearly ten
+thousand in a fortnight.’
+
+Meddlechip stared at him.
+
+‘I hope you will,’ he answered, gruffly, ‘all the better for my purse if
+you do.’
+
+‘That, of course, goes without saying,’ replied Vandeloup, lazily. ‘Have
+some more wine?’ touching the bell.
+
+‘No more, thank you,’ said Meddlechip, putting on his overcoat. ‘It’s
+time I was off.’
+
+‘By the way,’ said M. Vandeloup, coolly, ‘I have not any change in my
+pocket; you might settle for the supper.’
+
+Meddlechip burst out laughing.
+
+‘Confound your impudence,’ he said, quickly, ‘I thought you asked me to
+supper.’
+
+‘Oh, yes,’ replied Vandeloup, taking his hat and stick, ‘but I intended
+you to pay for it.’
+
+‘You were pretty certain of your game, then?’
+
+‘I always am,’ answered Vandeloup, as the door opened, and Gurchy rolled
+slowly into the room.
+
+Meddlechip paid the bill without making further objections, and then
+they both left Leslie’s with the same precautions as had attended their
+entry. They walked slowly down Bourke Street, and parted at the corner,
+Meddlechip going to Toorak, while Vandeloup got into a cab and told the
+man to drive to Richmond, then lit a cigarette and gave himself up to
+reflection as he drove along.
+
+‘I’ve done a good stroke of business tonight,’ he said, smiling, as he
+felt the cheque in his pocket, ‘and I’ll venture the whole lot on this
+Magpie reef. If it succeeds I will be rich; if it does not--well, there
+is always Meddlechip as my banker.’ Then his thoughts went back to
+Kitty, for the reason of his going home so late was that he wanted to
+find out in what frame of mind she was.
+
+‘She’ll never leave me,’ he said, with a laugh, as the cab drew up in
+front of Mrs Pulchop’s house; ‘if she does, so much the better for me.’
+
+He dismissed his cab, and let himself in with the latch key; then
+hanging up his hat in the hall he went straight to the bedroom and
+lit the gas. He then crossed to the bed, expecting to find Kitty sound
+asleep, but to his surprise the bed was untouched, and she was not
+there.
+
+‘Ah!’ he said, quietly, ‘so she has gone, after all. Poor little girl,
+I wonder where she is. I must really look after her to-morrow; at
+present,’ he said, pulling off his coat, with a yawn, ‘I think I’ll go
+to bed.’
+
+He went to bed, and laying his head on the pillow was soon fast asleep,
+without even a thought for the girl he had ruined.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+THE KEY OF THE STREET
+
+When Kitty left Mrs Pulchop’s residence she had no very definite idea as
+to what she was going to do with herself. Her sole thought was to get as
+far away from her former life as possible--to disappear in the crowd
+and never to be heard of again. Poor little soul, she never for a moment
+dreamed that it was a case of out of the frying pan into the fire, and
+that the world at large might prove more cruel to her than Vandeloup in
+particular. She had been cut to the heart by his harsh cold words, but
+notwithstanding he had spoken so bitterly she still loved him, and would
+have stayed beside him, but her jealous pride forbade her to do so. She
+who had been queen of his heart and the idol of his life could not bear
+to receive cold looks and careless words, and to be looked upon as an
+encumbrance and a trouble. So she thought if she left him altogether and
+never saw him again he would, perhaps, be sorry for her and cherish her
+memory tenderly for evermore. If she had only known Gaston’s true
+nature she would not thus have buoyed herself up with false hopes of his
+sorrow, but as she believed in him as implicitly as a woman in love with
+a man always does, in a spirit of self-abnegation she cut herself off
+from him, thinking it would be to his advantage if not to her own.
+
+She went into town and wandered about listlessly, not knowing where to
+go, till nearly twelve o’clock, and the streets were gradually emptying
+themselves of their crowds. The coffee stalls were at all the corners,
+with hungry-looking people of both sexes crowded round them, and here
+and there in door steps could be seen some outcasts resting in huddled
+heaps, while the policemen every now and then would come up and make
+them move on.
+
+Kitty was footsore and heart-weary, and felt inclined to cry, but
+was nevertheless resolved not to go back to her home in Richmond. She
+dragged herself along the lonely street, and round the corner came on
+a coffee stall with no one at it except one small boy whose head just
+reached up to the counter. Such a ragged boy as he was, with a broad
+comical-looking face--a shaggy head of red hair and a hat without any
+brim to it--his legs were bandy and his feet were encased in a pair
+of men’s boots several sizes too large for him. He had a bundle of
+newspapers under one arm and his other hand was in his pocket rattling
+some coppers together while he bargained with the coffee-stall keeper
+over a pie. The coffee stall had the name of Spilsby inscribed on it, so
+it is fair to suppose that the man therein was Spilsby himself. He had
+a long grey beard and a meek face, looking so like an old wether himself
+it appeared almost the act of a cannibal on his part to eat a mutton
+pie. A large placard at the back of the stall set forth the fact that
+‘Spilsby’s Specials’ were sold there for the sum of one penny, and it
+was over ‘Spilsby’s Specials’ the ragged boy was arguing.
+
+‘I tell you I ain’t agoin’ to eat fat,’ he said, in a hoarse voice, as
+if his throat was stuffed up with one of his own newspapers. ‘I want a
+special, I don’t want a hordinary.’
+
+‘This are a special, I tells you,’ retorted Spilsby, ungrammatically,
+pushing a smoking pie towards the boy; ‘what a young wiper you are,
+Grattles, a-comin’ and spoilin’ my livin’ by cussin’ my wictuals.’
+
+‘Look ‘ere,’ retorted Grattles, standing on the tips of his large boots
+to look more imposing, ‘my stumick’s a bit orf when it comes to fat,
+and I wants the vally of my penny; give us a muttony one, with lots of
+gravy.’
+
+‘’Ere y’are, then,’ said Spilsby, quite out of temper with his
+fastidious customer; ‘’ere’s a pie as is all made of ram as ‘adn’t got
+more fat on it than you ‘ave.’
+
+Grattles examined the article classed under this promising description
+with a critical air, and then laid down his penny and took the pie.
+
+‘It’s a special, ain’t it?’ he asked, suspiciously smelling it.
+
+‘It’s the specialest I’ve got, any’ow,’ answered Spilsby, testily,
+putting the penny in his pocket; ‘you’d eat a ‘ole sheep if you could
+get it for a penny, you greedy young devil, you.’
+
+Here Kitty, who was feeling faint and ill with so much walking, came
+forward and asked for a cup of coffee.
+
+‘Certainly, dear,’ said Spilsby, with a leer, pouring out the coffee;
+‘I’m allays good to a pretty gal.’
+
+‘It’s more nor your coffee is,’ growled Grattles, who had finished
+his special and was now licking his fingers, ‘it’s all grounds and ‘ot
+water.’
+
+‘Go away, you wicious thing,’ retorted Spilsby, mildly, giving Kitty
+her coffee and change out of the money she handed him, ‘or I’ll set the
+perlice on yer.’
+
+‘Oh, my eye!’ shrieked Grattles, executing a grimace after the fashion
+of a favourite comedian; ‘he ain’t a tart, oh, no--‘es a pie, ‘e are,
+a special, a muttony special; ‘e don’t kill no kittings and call ‘em
+sheep, oh, no; ‘e don’t buy chicory and calls it coffee, blest if
+‘e does; ‘e’s a corker, ‘e are, and ‘is name ain’t the same as ‘is
+father’s.’
+
+‘What d’ye mean,’ asked Spilsby, fiercely--that is, as fiercely as his
+meek appearance would let him; ‘what do you know of my parents, you
+bandy-legged little devil? who’s your--progenitor, I’d like to know?’
+
+‘A dook, in course,’ said Grattles loftily; ‘but we don’t, in
+consequence of ‘er Nibs bein’ mixed up with the old man’s mother, reweal
+the family skeletons to low piemen,’ then, with a fresh grimace, he
+darted along the street as quickly as his bandy legs could carry him.
+
+Spilsby took no notice of this, but, seeing some people coming round the
+corner, commenced to sing out his praises of the specials.
+
+‘’Ere yer are--all ‘ot an’ steamin’,’ he cried, in a kind of loud
+bleat, which added still more to his sheep-like appearance: ‘Spilsby’s
+Specials--oh, lovely--ain’t they nice; my eye, fine muttin pies; who ses
+Spilsby’s; ‘ave one, miss?’ to Kitty.
+
+Thank you, no,’ replied Kitty, with a faint smile as she put down her
+empty cup; ‘I’m going now.’
+
+Spilsby was struck by the educated manner in which she spoke and by the
+air of refinement about her.
+
+‘Go home, my dear,’ he said, kindly, leaning forward; ‘this ain’t no
+time for a young gal like you to be out.’
+
+‘I’ve got no home,’ said Kitty, bitterly, ‘but if you could direct me--’
+
+‘Here, you,’ cried a shrill female voice, as a woman dressed in a
+flaunting blue gown rushed up to the stall, ‘give us a pie quick; I’m
+starvin’; I’ve got no time to wait.’
+
+‘No, nor manners either,’ said Spilsby, with a remonstrating bleat,
+pushing a pie towards her; ‘who are you, a-shovin’ your betters,
+Portwine Annie?’
+
+‘My betters,’ scoffed the lady in blue, looking Kitty up and down with
+a disdainful smile on her painted face; ‘where are they, I’d like to
+know?’
+
+‘’Ere, ‘old your tongue,’ bleated Spilsby, angrily, ‘or I’ll tell the
+perlice at the corner.’
+
+‘And much I care,’ retorted the shrill-voiced female, ‘seeing he’s a
+particular friend of mine.’
+
+‘For God’s sake tell me where I can find a place to stop in,’ whispered
+Kitty to the coffee-stall keeper.
+
+‘Come with me, dear,’ said Portwine Annie, eagerly, having overheard
+what was said, but Kitty shrank back, and then gathering her cloak
+around her ran down the street.
+
+‘What do you do that for, you jade?’ said Spilsby, in a vexed tone;
+‘don’t you see the girl’s a lady.’
+
+‘Of course she is,’ retorted the other, finishing her pie; ‘we’re all
+ladies; look at our dresses, ain’t they fine enough? Look at our houses,
+aren’t they swell enough?’
+
+‘Yes, and yer morals, ain’t they bad enough?’ said Spilsby, washing up
+the dirty plate.
+
+‘They’re quite as good as many ladies in society, at all events,’
+replied Portwine Annie, with a toss of her head as she walked off.
+
+‘Oh, it’s a wicked world,’ bleated Spilsby, in a soft voice, looking
+after the retreating figure. ‘I’m sorry for that poor gal--I am
+indeed--but this ain’t business,’ and once more raising his voice he
+cried up his wares, ‘Oh, lovely; ain’t they muttony? Spilsby’s specials,
+all ‘ot; one penny.’
+
+Meanwhile Kitty was walking quickly down Elizabeth Street, and turning
+round the corner ran right up against a woman.
+
+‘Hullo!’ said the woman, catching her wrist, ‘where are you off to?’
+
+‘Let me go,’ cried Kitty, in a panting voice.
+
+The woman was tall and handsome, but her face had a kindly expression on
+it, and she seemed touched with the terrified tone of the girl.
+
+‘My poor child,’ she said, half contemptuously, releasing her, ‘I won’t
+hurt you. Go if you like. What are you doing out at this time of the
+night?’
+
+‘Nothing,’ faltered Kitty, with quivering lips, lifting her face up to
+the pale moon. The other saw it in the full light and marked how pure
+and innocent it was.
+
+‘Go home, dear,’ she said, in a soft tone, touching the girl kindly on
+the shoulder, ‘it’s not fit for you to be out at this hour. You are not
+one of us.’
+
+‘My God! no,’ cried Kitty, shrinking away from her.
+
+The other smiled bitterly.
+
+‘Ah! you draw away from me now,’ she said, with a sneer; ‘but what are
+you, so pure and virtuous, doing on the streets at this hour? Go home in
+time, child, or you will become like me.’
+
+‘I have no home,’ said Kitty, turning to go.
+
+‘No home!’ echoed the other, in a softer tone; ‘poor child! I cannot
+take you with me--God help me; but here is some money,’ forcing a
+shilling into the girl’s hand, ‘go to Mrs Rawlins at Victoria Parade,
+Fitzroy--anyone will tell you where it is--and she will take you in.’
+
+‘What kind of a place is it?’ said Kitty.
+
+‘A home for fallen women, dear,’ answered the other, kindly.
+
+‘I’m not a fallen woman!’ cried the girl, wildly, ‘I have left my home,
+but I will go back to it--anything better than this horrible life on the
+streets.’
+
+‘Yes, dear,’ said the woman, softly, ‘go home; go home, for God’s sake,
+and if you have a father and mother to shield you from harm, thank
+heaven for that. Let me kiss you once,’ she added, bending forward, ‘it
+is so long since I felt a good woman’s kiss on my lips. Good-bye.’
+
+‘Good-bye,’ sobbed Kitty, raising her face, and the other bent down and
+kissed the child-like face, then with a stifled cry, fled away through
+the moonlit night.
+
+Kitty turned away slowly and walked up the street. She knew there was
+a cab starting opposite the Town Hall which went to Richmond, and
+determined to go home. After all, hard though her life might be in the
+future, it would be better than this cruel harshness of the streets.
+
+At the top of the block, just as she was about to cross Swanston Street,
+a party of young men in evening dress came round the corner singing, and
+evidently were much exhilarated with wine. These were none other than
+Mr Jarper and his friends, who, having imbibed a good deal more than
+was good for them, were now ripe for any mischief. Bellthorp and Jarper,
+both quite intoxicated, were walking arm-in-arm, each trying to keep
+the other up, so that their walking mostly consisted of wild lurches
+forward, and required a good deal of balancing.
+
+‘Hullo!’ cried Bellthorp solemnly--he was always solemn when
+intoxicated--‘girl--pretty--eh!’
+
+‘Go ‘way,’ said Barty, staggering back against the wall, ‘we’re
+Christian young men.’
+
+Kitty tried to get away from this inebriated crew, but they all closed
+round her, and she wrung her hands in despair. ‘If you are gentlemen you
+will let me go,’ she cried, trying to push past.
+
+‘Give us kiss first,’ said a handsome young fellow, with his hat very
+much on one side, putting his arm round her waist, ‘pay toll, dear.’
+
+She felt his hot breath on her cheek and shrieked out wildly, trying
+to push him away with all her force. The young man, however, paid no
+attention to her cries, but was about to kiss her when he was taken by
+the back of the neck and thrown into the gutter.
+
+‘Gentlemen!’ said a rich rolling voice, which proceeded from a portly
+man who had just appeared on the scene. ‘I am astonished,’ with the
+emphasis on the first person singular, as if he were a man of great
+note.
+
+‘Old boy,’ translated Bellthorp to the others, ‘is ‘tonished.’
+
+‘You have,’ said the stranger, with an airy wave of his hand, ‘the
+appearance of gentlemen, but, alas! you are but whited sepulchres, fair
+to look upon, but full of dead men’s bones within.’
+
+‘Jarper,’ said Bellthorp, solemnly, taking Barty’s arm, ‘you’re a
+tombstone with skeleton inside--come along--old boy is right--set of
+cads ‘suiting an unprotected gal--good night, sir.’
+
+The others picked up their companion out of the gutter, and the whole
+lot rolled merrily down the street.
+
+‘And this,’ said the gentleman, lifting up his face to the sky in
+mute appeal to heaven, ‘this is the generation which is to carry
+on Australia. Oh, Father Adam, what a dissipated family you have
+got--ah!--good for a comedy, I think.’
+
+‘Oh!’ cried Kitty, recognising a familiar remark, ‘it’s Mr Wopples.’
+
+‘The same,’ said the airy Theodore, laying his hand on his heart, ‘and
+you, my dear--why, bless me,’ looking closely at her, ‘it is the pretty
+girl I met in Ballarat--dear, dear--surely you have not come to this.’
+
+‘No, no,’ said Kitty, quickly, laying her hand on his arm, ‘I will tell
+you all about it, Mr Wopples; but you must be a friend to me, for I
+sadly need one.’
+
+‘I will be your friend,’ said the actor, emphatically, taking her arm
+and walking slowly down the street; ‘tell me how I find you thus.’
+
+‘You won’t tell anyone if I do?’ said Kitty, imploringly.
+
+‘On the honour of a gentleman,’ answered Wopples, with grave dignity.
+
+Kitty told him how she had left Ballarat, but suppressed the name of her
+lover, as she did not want any blame to fall on him. But all the rest
+she told freely, and when Mr Wopples heard how on that night she had
+left the man who had ruined her, he swore a mighty oath.
+
+‘Oh, vile human nature,’ he said, in a sonorous tone, ‘to thus betray
+a confiding infant! Where,’ he continued, looking inquiringly at the
+serene sky, ‘where are the thunderbolts of Heaven that they fall not on
+such?’
+
+No thunderbolt making its appearance to answer the question, Mr Wopples
+told Kitty he would take her home to the family, and as they were just
+starting out on tour again, she could come with them.
+
+‘But will Mrs Wopples receive me?’ asked Kitty, timidly.
+
+‘My dear,’ said the actor, gravely, ‘my wife is a good woman, and a
+mother herself, so she can feel for a poor child like you, who has been
+betrayed through sheer innocence.’
+
+‘You do not despise me?’ said Kitty, in a low voice.
+
+‘My dear,’ answered Wopples, quietly, ‘am I so pure myself that I can
+judge others? Who am I,’ with an oratorical wave of the hand, ‘that I
+should cast the first stone?--ahem!--from Holy Writ. In future I will
+be your father; Mrs Wopples, your mother, and you will have ten brothers
+and sisters--all star artistes.’
+
+‘How kind you are,’ sobbed Kitty, clinging trustfully to him as they
+went along.
+
+‘I only do unto others as I would be done by,’ said Mr Wopples,
+solemnly. ‘That sentiment,’ continued the actor, taking off his hat,
+‘was uttered by One who, tho’ we may believe or disbelieve in His
+divinity as a God, will always remain the sublimest type of perfect
+manhood the world has ever seen.’
+
+Kitty did not answer, and they walked quickly along; and surely this one
+good deed more than compensated for the rest of the actor’s failings.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+ON CHANGE
+
+
+Young Australia has a wonderful love for the excitement of
+gambling--take him away from the betting ring and he goes straight to
+the share market to dabble in gold and silver shares. The Great Humbug
+Gold Mining Company is floated on the Melbourne market--a perfect
+fortune in itself, which influential men are floating in a kind of
+semi-philanthropic manner to benefit mankind at large, and themselves in
+particular. Report by competent geologists; rich specimens of the reef
+exhibited to the confiding public; company of fifty thousand shares at
+a pound each; two shillings on application; two shillings on allotment;
+the balance in calls which influential men solemnly assure confiding
+public will never be needed. Young Australia sees a chance of making
+thousands in a week; buys one thousand shares at four shillings--only
+two hundred pounds; shares will rise and Young Australia hopefully looks
+forward to pocketing two or three thousand by his modest venture of two
+hundred; company floated, shares rising slowly. Young Australia will not
+sell at a profit, still dazzled by his chimerical thousands. Calls must
+be made to put up machinery; shares have a downward tendency. Never
+mind, there will only be one or two calls, so stick to shares as parents
+of possible thousands. Machinery erected; now crushing; two or three
+ounces to ton a certainty. Shares have an upward tendency; washing
+up takes place--two pennyweights to ton. Despair! Shares run down to
+nothing, and Young Australia sees his thousands disappear like snow in
+the sun. The Great Humbug Reef proves itself worthy of its name, and the
+company collapses amid the groans of confiding public and secret joy of
+influential men, who have sold at the top price.
+
+Vandeloup knew all about this sort of thing, for he had seen it occur
+over and over again in Ballarat and Melbourne. So many came to the
+web and never got out alive, yet fresh flies were always to be found.
+Vandeloup was of a speculative nature himself, and had he been possessed
+of any surplus cash would, no doubt, have risked it in the jugglery of
+the share market, but as he had none to spare he stood back and amused
+himself with looking at the ‘spider and the fly’ business which was
+constantly going on. Sometimes, indeed, the fly got the better of spider
+number one, but was unable to keep away from the web, and was sure to
+fall into the web of spider number two.
+
+M. Vandeloup, therefore, considered the whole affair as too risky to
+be gone into without unlimited cash; but now he had a chance of making
+money, he determined to try his hand at the business. True, he knew that
+he was in for a swindle, but then he was behind the scenes, and would
+benefit by the knowledge he had gained. If the question at issue had
+really been that of getting gold out of the reef and paying dividends
+with the profits, Gaston would have snapped his fingers scornfully, and
+held aloof; but this was simply a running up of shares by means of a
+rich reef being struck. He intended to buy at the present market value,
+which was four shillings, and sell as soon as he could make a good
+profit--say, at one pound--so there was not much chance of him losing
+his money. The shares would probably drop again when the pocket of gold
+was worked out, but then that would be none of his affair, as he would
+by that time have sold out and made his pile. M. Vandeloup was a fly who
+was going straight into the webs of stockbroking spiders, but then he
+knew as much about this particular web as the spiders themselves.
+
+Full of his scheme to make money, Vandeloup started for town to see a
+broker--first, however, having settled with Mrs Pulchop over Kitty’s
+disappearance. He had found a letter from Kitty in the bedroom, in which
+she had bidden him good-bye for ever, but this he did not show to Mrs
+Pulchop, merely stating to that worthy lady that his ‘wife’ had left
+him.
+
+‘And it ain’t to be wondered at, the outraged angel,’ she said to
+Gaston, as he stood at the door, faultlessly dressed, ready to go into
+town; ‘the way you treated her were shameful.’
+
+Gaston shrugged his shoulders, lit a cigarette, and smiled at Mrs
+Pulchop.
+
+‘My dear lady,’ he said, blandly, ‘pray attend to your medicine bottles
+and leave my domestic affairs alone; you certainly understand the one,
+but I doubt your ability to come to any conclusion regarding the other.’
+
+‘Fine words don’t butter no parsnips,’ retorted Mrs Pulchop, viciously;
+‘and if Pulchop weren’t an Apoller, he had a kind heart.’
+
+‘Spare me these domestic stories, please,’ said Vandeloup, coldly, ‘they
+do not interest me in the least; since my “wife”,’ with a sneer, ‘has
+gone, I will leave your hospitable roof. I will send for all my property
+either today or to-morrow, and if you make out your account in the
+meantime, my messenger will pay it. Good day!’ and without another
+word Vandeloup walked slowly off down the path, leaving Mrs Pulchop
+speechless with indignation.
+
+He went into town first, to the City of Melbourne Bank, and cashed
+Meddlechip’s cheque for six hundred pounds, then, calling a hansom, he
+drove along to the Hibernian Bank, where he had an account, and paid
+it into his credit, reserving ten pounds for his immediate use. Then
+he reentered his hansom, and went along to the office of a stockbroker,
+called Polglaze, who was a member of ‘The Bachelors’, and in whose hands
+Vandeloup intended to place his business.
+
+Polglaze was a short, stout man, scrupulously neatly dressed, with iron
+grey hair standing straight up, and a habit of dropping out his words
+one at a time, so that the listener had to construct quite a little
+history between each, in order to arrive at their meaning, and the
+connection they had with one another.
+
+‘Morning!’ said Polglaze, letting the salutation fly out of his mouth
+rapidly, and then closing it again in case any other word might be
+waiting ready to pop out unknown to him.
+
+Vandeloup sat down and stated his business briefly.
+
+‘I want you to buy me some Magpie Reef shares,’ he said, leaning on the
+table.
+
+‘Many?’ dropped out of Polglaze’s mouth, and then it shut again with a
+snap. ‘Depends on the price,’ replied Vandeloup, with a shrug; ‘I see in
+the papers they are four shillings.’
+
+Mr Polglaze took up his share book, and rapidly turned over the
+leaves--found what he wanted, and nodded.
+
+‘Oh!’ said Vandeloup, making a rapid mental calculation, ‘then buy
+me two thousand five hundred. That will be about five hundred pounds’
+worth.’
+
+Mr Polglaze nodded; then whistled.
+
+‘Your commission, I presume,’ said Vandeloup, making another
+calculation, ‘will be threepence?’
+
+‘Sixpence,’ interrupted the stockbroker.
+
+‘Oh, I thought it was threepence,’ answered Vandeloup, quietly;
+‘however, that does not make any difference to me. Your commission at
+that rate will be twelve pounds ten shillings?’
+
+Polglaze nodded again, and sat looking at Vandeloup like a stony
+mercantile sphinx.
+
+‘If you will, then, buy me these shares,’ said Vandeloup, rising, and
+taking up his gloves and hat, ‘when am I to come along and see you?’
+
+‘Four,’ said Polglaze.
+
+Today?’ inquired Vandeloup.
+
+A nod from the stockbroker.
+
+‘Very well,’ said Vandeloup, quietly, ‘I’ll give you a cheque for the
+amount, then. There’s nothing more to be said, I believe?’ and he walked
+over to the door.
+
+‘Say!’ from Polglaze.
+
+‘Yes,’ replied Gaston, indolently, swinging his stick to and fro.
+
+‘New?’ inquired the stockbroker.
+
+‘You mean to this sort of thing?’ said Vandeloup, looking at him, and
+receiving a nod in token of acquiescence, added, ‘entirely.’
+
+‘Risky,’ dropped from the Polglaze mouth. ‘I never knew a gold mine that
+wasn’t,’ retorted Vandeloup, dryly.
+
+‘Bad,’ in an assertive tone, from Polglaze.
+
+‘This particular mine, I suppose you mean?’ said Gaston, with a yawn,
+‘very likely it is. However, I’m willing to take the risk. Good day! See
+you at four,’ and with a careless nod, M. Vandeloup lounged out of the
+office.
+
+He walked along Collins Street, met a few friends, and kept a look-out
+for Kitty. He, however, did not see her, but there was a surprise in
+store for him, for turning round into Swanston Street, he came across
+Archie McIntosh. Yes, there he was, with his grim, severe Scotch face,
+with the white frill round it, and Gaston smiled as he saw the old man,
+dressed in rigid broadcloth, casting disproving looks on the pretty
+girls walking along.
+
+‘A set o’ hizzies,’ growled the amiable Archie to himself, ‘prancin’
+alang wi’ their gew-gaws an’ fine claes, like war horses--the daughters
+o’ Zion that walk wi’ mincin’ steps an’ tinklin’ ornaments.’
+
+‘How do you do?’ said Vandeloup, touching the broadcloth shoulder; upon
+which McIntosh turned.
+
+‘Lord save us!’ he ejaculated, grimly, ‘it’s yon French body. An’ hoo’s
+a’ wi’ ye, laddie? Eh, but ye’re brawly dressed, my young man,’ with a
+disproving look; ‘I’m hopin’ they duds are paid for.’
+
+‘Of course they are,’ replied Vandeloup, gaily, ‘do you think I stole
+them?’
+
+‘Weel, I’ll no gae sa far as that,’ remarked Archie, cautiously; ‘maybe
+ye have dwelt by the side o’ mony waters, an’ flourished. If he ken the
+Screepture ye’ll see God helps those wha help themselves.’
+
+‘That means you do all the work and give God the credit,’ retorted
+Gaston, with a sneer; ‘I know all about that.’
+
+‘Ah, ye’ll gang tae the pit o’ Tophet when ye dee,’ said Mr McIntosh,
+who had heard this remark with horror; ‘an’ ye’ll no be sae ready wi’
+your tongue there, I’m thinkin’; but ye are not speerin aboot Mistress
+Villiers.’
+
+‘Why, is she in town?’ asked Vandeloup, eagerly.
+
+‘Ay, and Seliny wi’ her,’ answered Archie, fondling his frill; ‘she’s
+varra rich noo, as ye’ve nae doot heard. Ay, ay,’ he went on, ‘she’s
+gotten a braw hoose doon at St Kilda, and she’s going to set up a
+carriage, ye ken. She tauld me,’ pursued Mr McIntosh, sourly, looking
+at Vandeloup, ‘if I saw ye I was to be sure to tell ye to come an’ see
+her.’
+
+‘Present my compliments to Madame,’ said Vandeloup, quickly, ‘and I will
+wait on her as soon as possible.’
+
+‘Losh save us, laddie,’ said McIntosh, irritably, ‘you’re as fu’ o’ fine
+wards as a play-actor. Have ye seen onything doon in this pit o’ Tophet
+o’ the bairn that rin away?’
+
+‘Oh, Miss Marchurst!’ said Vandeloup, smoothly, ready with a lie at
+once. ‘No, I’m sorry to say I’ve never set eyes on her.’
+
+‘The mistress is joost daft aboot her,’ observed McIntosh, querulously;
+‘and she’s ganging tae look all thro’ the toun tae find the puir wee
+thing.’
+
+‘I hope she will!’ said M. Vandeloup, who devoutly hoped she wouldn’t.
+‘Will you come and have a glass of wine, Mr McIntosh?’
+
+‘Til hae a wee drappy o’ whusky if ye’ve got it gude,’ said McIntosh,
+cautiously, ‘but I dinna care for they wines that sour on a body’s
+stomach.’
+
+McIntosh having thus graciously assented, Vandeloup took him up to
+the Club, and introduced him all round as the manager of the famous
+Pactolus. All the young men were wonderfully taken up with Archie and
+his plain speaking, and had Mr McIntosh desired he could have drunk
+oceans of his favourite beverage. However, being a Scotchman and
+cautious, he took very little, and left Vandeloup to go down to Madame
+Midas at St Kilda, and bearing a message from the Frenchman that he
+would call there the next day.
+
+Archie having departed, Vandeloup got through the rest of the day as
+he best could. He met Mr Wopples in the street, who told him how he had
+found Kitty, quite unaware that the young man before him was the villain
+who had betrayed the girl. Vandeloup was delighted to think that Kitty
+had not mentioned his name, and quite approved of Mr Wopples’ intention
+to take the girl on tour. Having thus arranged for Kitty’s future,
+Gaston went along to his broker, and found that the astute Polglaze had
+got him his shares.
+
+‘Going up,’ said Polglaze, as he handed the scrip to Vandeloup and got a
+cheque in exchange.
+
+‘Oh, indeed!’ said Vandeloup, with a smile. ‘I suppose my two friends
+have begun their little game already,’ he thought, as he slipped the
+scrip into his breast pocket.
+
+‘Information?’ asked Polglaze, as Vandeloup was going.
+
+‘Oh! you’d like to know where I got it,’ said M. Vandeloup, amiably.
+‘Very sorry I can’t tell you; but you see, my dear sir, I am not a
+woman, and can keep a secret.’
+
+Vandeloup walked out, and Polglaze looked after him with a puzzled look,
+then summed up his opinion in one word, sharp, incisive, and to the
+point--
+
+‘Clever!’ said Polglaze, and put the cheque in his safe.
+
+Vandeloup strolled along the street thinking.
+
+‘Bebe is out of my way,’ he thought, with a smile; ‘I have a small
+fortune in my pocket, and,’ he continued, thoughtfully, ‘Madame Midas is
+in Melbourne. I think now,’ said M. Vandeloup, with another smile, ‘that
+I have conquered the blind goddess.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE OPULENCE OF MADAME MIDAS
+
+
+A wealthy man does not know the meaning of the word friendship. He is
+not competent to judge, for his wealth precludes him giving a proper
+opinion. Smug-faced philanthropists can preach comfortable doctrines in
+pleasant rooms with well-spread tables and good clothing; they can talk
+about human nature being unjustly accused, and of the kindly impulses
+and good thoughts in everyone’s breasts. Pshaw! anyone can preach
+thus from an altitude of a few thousands a year, but let these same
+self-complacent kind-hearted gentlemen descend in the social scale--let
+them look twice at a penny before spending it--let them face persistent
+landladies, exorbitant landlords, or the bitter poverty of the streets,
+and they will not talk so glibly of human nature and its inherent
+kindness. No; human nature is a sort of fetish which is credited with
+a great many amiable qualities it never possesses, and though there
+are exceptions to the general rule, Balzac’s aphorism on mankind that
+‘Nature works by self-interest,’ still holds good today.
+
+Madame Midas, however, had experienced poverty and the coldness of
+friends, so was completely disillusionised as to the disinterested
+motives of the people who now came flocking around her. She was very
+wealthy, and determined to stop in Melbourne for a year, and then go
+home to Europe, so to this end she took a house at St Kilda, which had
+been formerly occupied by Mark Frettlby, the millionaire, who had been
+mixed up in the famous hansom cab murder nearly eighteen months before.
+His daughter, Mrs Fitzgerald, was in Ireland with her husband, and had
+given instructions to her agents to let the house furnished as it stood,
+but such a large rent was demanded, that no one felt inclined to give
+it till Mrs Villiers appeared on the scene. The house suited her, as
+she did not want to furnish one of her own, seeing she was only going to
+stop a year, so she saw Thinton and Tarbet, who had the letting of
+the place, and took it for a year. The windows were flung open, the
+furniture brushed and renovated, and the solitary charwoman who had been
+ruler in the lonely rooms so long, was dismissed, and her place taken by
+a whole retinue of servants. Madame Midas intended to live in style,
+so went to work over the setting up of her establishment in such an
+extravagant manner that Archie remonstrated. She took his interference
+in a good humoured way, but still arranged things as she intended; and
+when her house was ready, waited for her friends to call on her, and
+prepared to amuse herself with the comedy of human life. She had not
+long to wait, for a perfect deluge of affectionate people rolled
+down upon her. Many remembered her--oh, quite well--when she was
+the beautiful Miss Curtis; and then her husband--that dreadful
+Villiers--they hoped he was dead--squandering her fortune as he had
+done--they had always been sorry for her, and now she was rich--that
+lovely Pactolus--indeed, she deserved it all--she would marry, of
+course--oh, but indeed, she must. And so the comedy went on, and all the
+actors flirted, and ogled, and nodded, and bowed, till Madame Midas was
+quite sick of the falseness and frivolity of the whole thing. She knew
+these people, with their simpering and smiling, would visit her and
+eat her dinners and drink her wines, and then go away and abuse her
+thoroughly. But then Madame Midas never expected anything else, so she
+received them with smiles, saw through all their little ways, and when
+she had amused herself sufficiently with their antics, she let them go.
+
+Vandeloup called on Madame Midas the day after she arrived, and Mrs
+Villiers was delighted to see him. Having an object in view, of course
+Gaston made himself as charming as possible, and assisted Madame to
+arrange her house, told her about the people who called on her, and made
+cynical remarks about them, all of which amused Madame Midas mightily.
+She grew weary of the inane gabble and narrow understandings of people,
+and it was quite a relief for her to turn to Vandeloup, with his keen
+tongue and clever brains. Gaston was not a charitable talker--few really
+clever talkers are--but he saw through everyone with the uttermost ease
+and summed them up in a sharp incisive way, which had at least the merit
+of being clever. Madame Midas liked to hear him talk, and seeing what
+humbugs the people who surrounded her were, and how well she knew their
+motives in courting her for her wealth, it is not to be wondered at that
+she should have been amused at having all their little weaknesses laid
+bare and classified by such a master of satire as Vandeloup. So they sat
+and watched the comedy and the unconscious actors playing their parts,
+and felt that the air was filled with heavy sensuous perfume, and the
+lights were garish, and that there was wanting entirely that keen cool
+atmosphere which Mallock calls ‘the ozone of respectability’.
+
+Vandeloup had prospered in his little venture in the mining market, for,
+true to the prediction of Mr Barraclough--who, by the way, was very
+much astonished at the sudden demand for shares by Polglaze, and vainly
+pumped that reticent individual to find out what he was up to--the
+Magpie Reef shares ran up rapidly. A telegram was published from the
+manager stating a rich reef had been struck. Specimens of the very
+richest kind were displayed in Melbourne, and the confiding public
+suddenly woke to the fact that a golden tide was flowing past their
+doors. They rushed the share market, and in two weeks the Magpie Reef
+shares ran from four shillings to as many pounds. Vandeloup intended
+to sell at one pound, but when he saw the rapid rise and heard everyone
+talking about this Reef, which was to be a second Long Tunnel, he held
+his shares till they touched four pounds, then, quite satisfied with his
+profit, he sold out at once and pocketed nearly ten thousand pounds, so
+that he was provided for the rest of his life. The shares ran up
+still higher, to four pounds ten shillings, then dropped to three, in
+consequence of certain rumours that the pocket of gold was worked out.
+Then another rich lead was struck, and they ran up again to five pounds,
+and afterwards sank to two pounds, which gradually became their regular
+price in the market. That Barraclough and his friend did well was
+sufficiently proved by the former taking a trip to Europe, while his
+friend bought a station and set up as a squatter. They, however, never
+knew how cleverly M. Vandeloup had turned their conversation to his
+advantage, and that young gentleman, now that he had made a decent sum,
+determined to touch gold mining no more, and, unlike many people, he
+kept his word.
+
+Now that he was a man of means, Vandeloup half decided to go to America,
+as a larger field for a gentleman of his brilliant qualities, but
+the arrival of Madame Midas in Melbourne made him alter his mind. Her
+husband was no doubt dead, so Gaston thought that as soon as she had
+settled down he would begin to pay his court to her, and without doubt
+would be accepted, for this confident young man never for a moment
+dreamed of failure. Meanwhile he sent all Kitty’s wardrobe after her as
+she went with the Wopples family, and the poor girl, taking this as a
+mark of renewed affection, wrote him a very tearful little note, which
+M. Vandeloup threw into the fire. Then he looked about and ultimately
+got a very handsome suite of rooms in Clarendon Street, East Melbourne.
+He furnished these richly, and having invested his money in good
+securities, prepared to enjoy himself.
+
+Kitty, meanwhile, had become a great favourite with the Wopples family,
+and they made a wonderful pet of her. Of course, being in Rome, she did
+as the Romans did, and went on the stage as Miss Kathleen Wopples, being
+endowed with the family name for dramatic reasons. The family were now
+on tour among the small towns of Victoria, and seemed to be well-known,
+as each member got a reception when he or she appeared on the stage. Mr
+Theodore Wopples used to send his agent ahead to engage the theatre--or
+more often a hall--bill the town, and publish sensational little notices
+in the local papers. Then when the family arrived Mr Wopples, who was
+really a gentleman and well-educated, called on all the principal people
+of the town and so impressed them with the high class character of the
+entertainment that he never failed to secure their patronage. He also
+had a number of artful little schemes which he called ‘wheezes’, the
+most successful of these being a lecture on ‘The Religious Teaching of
+Shakespeare’, which he invariably delivered on a Sunday afternoon in
+the theatre of any town he happened to be in, and not infrequently when
+requested occupied the pulpit and preached capital sermons. By these
+means Mr Wopples kept up the reputation of the family, and the upper
+classes of all the towns invariably supported the show, while the lower
+classes came as a matter of course. Mr Wopples, however, was equally as
+clever in providing a bill of fare as in inducing the public to come to
+the theatre, and the adaptability of the family was really wonderful.
+One night they would play farcical comedy; then Hamlet, reduced to four
+acts by Mr Wopples, would follow on the second night; the next night
+burlesque would reign supreme; and when the curtain arose on the fourth
+night Mr Wopples and the star artistes would be acting melodrama, and
+throw one another off bridges and do strong starvation business with
+ragged clothes amid paper snowstorms.
+
+Kitty turned out to be a perfect treasure, as her pretty face and
+charming voice soon made her a favourite, and when in burlesque she
+played Princess to Fanny Wopples’ Prince, there was sure to be a crowded
+house and lots of applause. Kitty’s voice was clear and sweet as a
+lark’s, and her execution something wonderful, so Mr Wopples christened
+her the Australian Nightingale, and caused her to be so advertised in
+the papers. Moreover, her dainty appearance, and a certain dash and
+abandon she had with her, carried the audience irresistibly away, and
+had Fanny Wopples not been a really good girl, she would have been
+jealous of the success achieved by the new-comer. She, however, taught
+Kitty to dance breakdowns, and at Warrnambool they had a benefit, when
+‘Faust, M.D.’ was produced, and Fanny sang her great success, ‘I’ve just
+had a row with mamma’, and Kitty sang the jewel song from ‘Faust’ in
+a manner worthy of Neilson, as the local critic--who had never heard
+Neilson--said the next day. Altogether, Kitty fully repaid the good
+action of Mr Wopples by making his tour a wonderful success, and the
+family returned to Melbourne in high glee with full pockets.
+
+‘Next year,’ said Mr Wopples, at a supper which they had to celebrate
+the success of their tour, ‘we’ll have a theatre in Melbourne, and I’ll
+make it the favourite house of the city, see if I don’t.’
+
+It seemed, therefore, as though Kitty had found her vocation, and would
+develop into an operatic star, but fate intervened, and Miss Marchurst
+retired from the stage, which she had adorned so much. This was due to
+Madame Midas, who, driving down Collins Street one day, saw Kitty at the
+corner walking with Fanny Wopples. She immediately stopped her carriage,
+and alighting therefrom, went straight up to the girl, who, turning and
+seeing her for the first time, grew deadly pale.
+
+‘Kitty, my dear,’ said Madame, gravely, ‘I have been looking for you
+vainly for a year--but I have found you at last.’
+
+Kitty’s breast was full of conflicting emotions; she thought that Madame
+knew all about her intimacy with Vandeloup, and that she would speak
+severely to her. Mrs Villiers’ next words, however, reassured her.
+
+‘You left Ballarat to go on the stage, did you not?’ she said kindly,
+looking at the girl; ‘why did you not come to me?--you knew I was always
+your friend.’
+
+‘Yes, Madame,’ said Kitty, putting out her hand and averting her head,
+‘I would have come to you, but I thought you would stop me from going.’
+
+‘My dear child,’ replied Madame, ‘I thought you knew me better than
+that; what theatre are you at?’
+
+‘She’s with us,’ said Miss Fanny, who had been staring at this grave,
+handsomely-dressed lady who had alighted from such a swell carriage; ‘we
+are the Wopples Family.’
+
+‘Ah!’ said Mrs Villiers, thinking, ‘I remember, you were up at Ballarat
+last year. Well, Kitty, will you and your friend drive down to St Kilda
+with me, and I’ll show you my new house?’
+
+Kitty would have refused, for she was afraid Madame Midas would perhaps
+send her back to her father, but the appealing looks of Fanny Wopples,
+who had never ridden in a carriage in her life, and was dying to do
+so, decided her to accept. So they stepped into the carriage, and Mrs
+Villiers told the coachman to drive home.
+
+As they drove along, Mrs Villiers delicately refrained from asking Kitty
+any questions about her flight, seeing that a stranger was present, but
+determined to find out all about it when she got her alone down at St
+Kilda.
+
+Kitty, on her part, was thinking how to baffle Madame’s inquiries. She
+knew she would be questioned closely by her, and resolved not to tell
+more than she could help, as she, curiously enough--considering how he
+had treated her--wished to shield Vandeloup. But she still cherished a
+tender feeling for the man she loved, and had Vandeloup asked her to go
+back and live with him, would, no doubt, have consented. The fact was,
+the girl’s nature was becoming slightly demoralised, and the Kitty who
+sat looking at Madame Midas now--though her face was as pretty, and her
+eyes as pure as ever--was not the same innocent Kitty that had visited
+the Pactolus, for she had eaten of the Tree of Knowledge, and was
+already cultured in worldly wisdom. Madame, of course, believed that
+Kitty had gone from Ballarat straight on to the stage, and never thought
+for a moment that for a whole year she had been Vandeloup’s mistress,
+so when Kitty found this out--as she very soon did--she took the cue at
+once, and asserted positively to Madame that she had been on the stage
+for eighteen months.
+
+‘But how is it,’ asked Madame, who believed her fully, ‘that I could not
+find you?’
+
+‘Because I was up the country all the time,’ replied Kitty, quickly,
+‘and of course did not act under my real name.’
+
+‘You would not like to go back to your father, I suppose,’ suggested
+Madame.
+
+Kitty made a gesture of dissent.
+
+‘No,’ she answered, determinedly; ‘I was tired of my father and his
+religion; I’m on the stage now, and I mean to stick to it.’
+
+‘Kitty! Kitty!’ said Madame, sadly, ‘you little know the temptations--’
+
+‘Oh! yes, I do,’ interrupted Kitty, impatiently; ‘I’ve been nearly two
+years on the stage, and I have not seen any great wickedness--besides,
+I’m always with Mrs Wopples.’
+
+‘Then you still mean to be an actress?’ asked Madame.
+
+‘Yes,’ replied Kitty, in a firm voice; ‘if I went back to my father, I’d
+go mad leading that dull life.’
+
+‘But why not stay with me, my dear?’ said Mrs Villiers, looking at her;
+‘I am a lonely woman, as you know, and if you come to me, I will treat
+you as a daughter.’
+
+‘Ah! how good you are,’ cried the girl in a revulsion of feeling,
+falling on her friend’s neck; ‘but indeed I cannot leave the stage--I’m
+too fond of it.’
+
+Madame sighed, and gave up the argument for a time, then showed the two
+girls all over the house, and after they had dinner with her, she sent
+them back to town in her carriage, with strict injunctions to Kitty to
+come down next day and bring Mr Wopples with her. When the two girls
+reached the hotel where the family was staying, Fanny gave her father
+a glowing account of the opulence of Madame Midas, and Mr Wopples was
+greatly interested in the whole affair. He was grave, however, when
+Kitty spoke to him privately of what Madame had said to her, and asked
+her if she would not like to accept Mrs Villiers’ offer. Kitty, however,
+said she would remain on the stage, and as Wopples was to see Madame
+Midas next day, made him promise he would say nothing about having
+found her on the streets, or of her living with a lover. Wopples, who
+thoroughly understood the girl’s desire to hide her shame from her
+friends, agreed to this, so Kitty went to bed confident that she had
+saved Vandeloup’s name from being dragged into the affair.
+
+Wopples saw Madame next day, and a long talk ensued, which ended in
+Kitty agreeing to stay six months with Mrs Villiers, and then, if she
+still wished to continue on the stage, she was to go to Mr Wopples.
+On the other hand, in consideration of Wopples losing the services of
+Kitty, Madame promised that next year she would give him sufficient
+money to start a theatre in Melbourne. So both parted mutually
+satisfied. Kitty made presents to all the family, who were very sorry to
+part with her, and then took up her abode with Mrs Villiers, as a kind
+of adopted daughter, and was quite prepared to play her part in the
+comedy of fashion.
+
+So Madame Midas had been near the truth, yet never discovered it, and
+sent a letter to Vandeloup asking him to come to dinner and meet an old
+friend, little thinking how old and intimate a friend Kitty was to the
+young man.
+
+It was, as Mr Wopples would have said, a highly dramatic situation, but,
+alas, that the confiding nature of Madame Midas should thus have been
+betrayed, not only by Vandeloup, but by Kitty herself--the very girl
+whom, out of womanly compassion, she took to her breast.
+
+And yet the world talks about the inherent goodness of human nature.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+M. VANDELOUP IS SURPRISED
+
+
+Owing to the quiet life Kitty had led since she came to Melbourne,
+and the fact that her appearance on the stage had taken place in the
+country, she felt quite safe when making her appearance in Melbourne
+society that no one would recognise her or know anything of her past
+life. It was unlikely she would meet with any of the Pulchop family
+again, and she knew Mr Wopples would hold his tongue regarding his first
+meeting with her, so the only one who could reveal anything about her
+would be Vandeloup, and he would certainly be silent for his own sake,
+as she knew he valued the friendship of Madame Midas too much to lose
+it. Nevertheless she awaited his coming in considerable trepidation, as
+she was still in love with him, and was nervous as to what reception
+she would meet with. Perhaps now that she occupied a position as Mrs
+Villiers’ adopted daughter he would marry her, but, at all events,
+when she met him she would know exactly how he felt towards her by his
+demeanour.
+
+Vandeloup, on the other hand, was quite unaware of the surprise in store
+for him, and thought that the old friend he was to meet would be some
+Ballarat acquaintance of his own and Madame’s. In his wildest flight
+of fancy he never thought it would be Kitty, else his cool nonchalance
+would for once have been upset at the thought of the two women he was
+interested in being under the same roof. However, where ignorance is
+bliss--well M. Vandeloup, after dressing himself carefully in evening
+dress, put on his hat and coat, and, the evening being a pleasant one,
+thought he would stroll through the Fitzroy Gardens down to the station.
+
+It was pleasant in the gardens under the golden light of the sunset, and
+the green arcades of trees looked delightfully cool after the glare of
+the dusty streets. Vandeloup, strolling along idly, felt a touch on his
+shoulder and wheeled round suddenly, for with his past life ever before
+him he always had a haunting dread of being recaptured.
+
+The man, however, who had thus drawn his attention was none other than
+Pierre Lemaire, who stood in the centre of the broad asphalt path,
+dirty, ragged and disreputable-looking. He had not altered much since he
+left Ballarat, save that he looked more dilapidated-looking, but stood
+there in his usual sullen manner, with his hat drawn down over his eyes.
+Some stray wisps of grass showed that he had been camping out all the
+hot day on the green turf under the shadow of the trees, and it was easy
+to see from his appearance what a vagrant he was. Vandeloup was annoyed
+at the meeting and cast a rapid look around to see if he was observed.
+The few people, however, passing were too intent on their own business
+to give more than a passing glance at the dusty tramp and the young man
+in evening dress talking to him, so Vandeloup was reassured.
+
+‘Well, my friend,’ he said, sharply, to the dumb man, ‘what do you
+want?’
+
+Pierre put his hand in his pocket.
+
+‘Oh, of course,’ replied M. Vandeloup, mockingly, ‘money, money, always
+money; do you think I’m a bank, always to be drawn on like this?’
+
+The dumb man made no sign that he had heard, but stood sullenly rocking
+himself to and fro an’d chewing a wisp of the grass he had picked off
+his coat.
+
+‘Here,’ said the young man, taking out a sovereign and giving it to
+Pierre; ‘take this just now and don’t bother me, or upon my word,’ with
+a disdainful look, ‘I shall positively have to hand you over to the
+law.’
+
+Pierre glanced up suddenly, and Vandeloup caught the gleam of his eyes
+under the shadow of the hat.
+
+‘Oh! you think it will be dangerous for me,’ he said, in a gay tone;
+‘not at all, I assure you. I am a gentleman, and rich; you are a pauper,
+and disreputable. Who will believe your word against mine? My faith!
+your assurance is quite refreshing. Now, go away, and don’t trouble me
+again, or,’ with a sudden keen glance, ‘I will do as I say.’
+
+He nodded coolly to the dumb man, and strode gaily along under the shade
+of the heavily foliaged oaks, while Pierre looked at the sovereign,
+slipped it into his pocket, and slouched off in the opposite direction
+without even a glance at his patron.
+
+At the top of the street Vandeloup stepped into a cab, and telling the
+man to drive to the St Kilda Station, in Elizabeth Street, went off into
+a brown study. Pierre annoyed him seriously, as he never seemed to get
+rid of him, and the dumb man kept turning up every now and then like the
+mummy at the Egyptian feast to remind him of unpleasant things.
+
+‘Confound him!’ muttered Vandeloup, angrily, as he alighted at the
+station and paid the cabman, ‘he’s more trouble than Bebe was; she did
+take the hint and go, but this man, my faith!’ shrugging his shoulders,
+‘he’s the devil himself for sticking.’
+
+All the way down to St Kilda his reflections were of the same unpleasant
+nature, and he cast about in his own mind how he could get rid of this
+pertinacious friend. He could not turn him off openly, as Pierre might
+take offence, and as he knew more of M. Vandeloup’s private life than
+that young gentleman cared about, it would not do to run the risk of an
+exposure.
+
+‘There’s only one thing to be done,’ said Gaston, quietly, as he walked
+down to Mrs Villiers’ house; ‘I will try my luck at marrying Madame
+Midas; if she consents, we can go away to Europe as man and wife; if
+she does not I will go to America, and, in either case, Pierre will lose
+trace of me.’
+
+With this comfortable reflection he went into the house and was shown
+into the drawing room by the servant. There were no lights in the room,
+as it was not sufficiently dark for them, and Vandeloup smiled as he saw
+a fire in the grate.
+
+‘My faith!’ he said to himself, ‘Madame is as chilly as ever.’
+
+The servant had retired, and he was all by himself in this large room,
+with the subdued twilight all through it, and the flicker of the flames
+on the ceiling. He went to the fire more from habit than anything else,
+and suddenly came on a big armchair, drawn up close to the side, in
+which a woman was sitting.
+
+‘Ah! the sleeping beauty,’ said Vandeloup, carelessly; ‘in these cases
+the proper thing to do in order to wake the lady is to kiss her.’
+
+He was, without doubt, an extremely audacious young man, and though he
+did not know who the young lady was, would certainly have put his design
+into execution, had not the white figure suddenly rose and confronted
+him. The light from the fire was fair on her face, and with a sudden
+start Vandeloup saw before him the girl he had ruined and deserted.
+
+‘Bebe?’ he gasped, recoiling a step.
+
+‘Yes!’ said Kitty, in an agitated tone, ‘your mistress and your victim.’
+
+‘Bah!’ said Gaston, coolly, having recovered from the first shock of
+surprise. ‘That style suits Sarah Bernhardt, not you, my dear. The first
+act of this comedy is excellent, but it is necessary the characters
+should know one another in order to finish the play.’
+
+‘Ah!’ said Kitty, with a bitter smile, ‘do I not know you too well, as
+the man who promised me marriage and then broke his word? You forgot all
+your vows to me.’
+
+‘My dear child,’ replied Gaston leisurely, leaning up against the
+mantelpiece, ‘if you had read Balzac you would discover that he says,
+“Life would be intolerable without a certain amount of forgetting.” I
+must say,’ smiling, ‘I agree with the novelist.’
+
+Kitty looked at him as he stood there cool and complacent, and threw
+herself back into the chair angrily.
+
+‘Just the same,’ she muttered restlessly, ‘just the same.’
+
+‘Of course,’ replied Vandeloup, raising his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You
+have only been away from me six weeks, and it takes longer than that to
+alter any one. By the way,’ he went on smoothly, ‘how have you been all
+this time? I have no doubt your tour has been as adventurous as that of
+Gil Bias.’
+
+‘No, it has not,’ replied Kitty, clenching her hands. ‘You never cared
+what became of me, and had not Mr Wopples met me in the street on that
+fearful night, God knows where I would have been now.’
+
+‘I can tell you,’ said Gaston, coolly, taking a seat. ‘With me. You
+would have soon got tired of the poverty of the streets, and come back
+to your cage.’
+
+‘My cage, indeed!’ she echoed, bitterly, tapping the ground with her
+foot. ‘Yes, a cage, though it was a gilded one.’
+
+‘How Biblical you are getting,’ said the young man, ironically; ‘but
+kindly stop speaking in parables, and tell me what position we are to
+occupy to each other. As formerly?’
+
+‘My God, no!’ she flashed out suddenly.
+
+‘So much the better,’ he answered, bowing. ‘We will obliterate the last
+year from our memories, and I will meet you to-night for the first time
+since you left Ballarat. Of course,’ he went on, rather anxiously, ‘you
+have told Madame nothing?’
+
+‘Only what suited me,’ replied the girl, coldly, stung by the coldness
+and utter heartlessness of this man.
+
+‘Oh!’ with a smile. ‘Did it include my name?’
+
+‘No,’ curtly.
+
+‘Ah!’ with a long indrawn breath, ‘you are more sensible than I gave you
+credit for.’
+
+Kitty rose to her feet and crossed rapidly over to where he sat calm and
+smiling.
+
+‘Gaston Vandeloup!’ she hissed in his ear, while her face was quite
+distorted by the violence of her passion, ‘when I met you I was an
+innocent girl--you ruined me, and then cast me off as soon as you grew
+weary of your toy. I thought you loved me, and,’ with a stifled sob,
+‘God help me, I love you still.’
+
+‘Yes, my Bebe,’ he said, in a caressing tone, taking her hand.
+
+‘No! no,’ she cried, wrenching them away, while an angry spot of colour
+glowed on her cheek, ‘I loved you as you were--not as you are now--we
+are done with sentiment, M. Vandeloup,’ she said, sneering, ‘and now our
+relations to one another will be purely business ones.’
+
+He bowed and smiled.
+
+‘So glad you understand the position,’ he said, blandly; ‘I see the age
+of miracles is not yet past when a woman can talk sense.’
+
+‘You won’t disturb me with your sneers,’ retorted the girl, glaring
+fiercely at him out of the gathering gloom in the room; ‘I am not the
+innocent girl I once was.’
+
+‘It is needless to tell me that,’ he said, coarsely.
+
+She drew herself up at the extreme insult.
+
+‘Have a care, Gaston,’ she muttered, hurriedly, ‘I know more about your
+past life than you think.’
+
+He rose from his seat and approached his face, now white as her own, to
+hers.
+
+‘What do you know?’ he asked, in a low, passionate voice.
+
+‘Enough to be dangerous to you,’ she retorted, defiantly.
+
+They both looked at one another steadily, but the white face of the
+woman did not blench before the scintillations of his eyes.
+
+‘What you know I don’t know,’ he said, steadily; ‘but whatever it is,
+keep it to yourself, or--,’ catching her wrist.
+
+‘Or what?’ she asked, boldly.
+
+He threw her away from him with a laugh, and the sombre fire died out of
+his eyes.
+
+‘Bah!’ he said, gaily, ‘our comedy is turning into a tragedy; I am as
+foolish as you; I think,’ significantly, ‘we understand one another.’
+
+‘Yes, I think we do,’ she answered, calmly, the colour coming back to
+her cheek. ‘Neither of us are to refer to the past, and we both go on
+our different roads unhindered.’
+
+‘Mademoiselle Marchurst,’ said Vandeloup, ceremoniously, ‘I am delighted
+to meet you after a year’s absence--come,’ with a gay laugh, ‘let us
+begin the comedy thus, for here,’ he added quickly, as the door opened,
+‘here comes the spectators.’
+
+‘Well, young people,’ said Madame’s voice, as she came slowly into the
+room, ‘you are all in the dark; ring the bell for lights, M. Vandeloup.’
+
+‘Certainly, Madame,’ he answered, touching the electric button, ‘Miss
+Marchurst and myself were renewing our former friendship.’
+
+‘How do you think she is looking?’ asked Madame, as the servant came in
+and lit the gas.
+
+‘Charming,’ replied Vandeloup, looking at the dainty little figure in
+white standing under the blaze of the chandelier; ‘she is more beautiful
+than ever.’
+
+Kitty made a saucy little curtsey, and burst into a musical laugh.
+
+‘He is just the same, Madame,’ she said merrily to the tall, grave
+woman in black velvet, who stood looking at her affectionately, ‘full
+of compliments, and not meaning one; but when is dinner to be ready?’
+pathetically, ‘I’m dying of starvation.’
+
+‘I hope you have peaches, Madame,’ said Vandeloup, gaily; ‘the first
+time I met Mademoiselle she was longing for peaches.’
+
+‘I am unchanged in that respect,’ retorted Kitty, brightly; ‘I adore
+peaches still.’
+
+‘I am just waiting for Mr Calton,’ said Madame Midas, looking at her
+watch; ‘he ought to be here by now.’
+
+‘Is that the lawyer, Madame?’ asked Vandeloup.
+
+‘Yes,’ she replied, quietly, ‘he is a most delightful man.’
+
+‘So I have heard,’ answered Vandeloup, nonchalantly, ‘and he had
+something to do with a former owner of this house, I think.’
+
+‘Oh, don’t talk of that,’ said Mrs Villiers, nervously; ‘the first time
+I took the house, I heard all about the Hansom Cab murder.’
+
+‘Why, Madame, you are not nervous,’ said Kitty, gaily.
+
+‘No, my dear,’ replied the elder, quietly, ‘but I must confess that for
+some reason or another I have been a little upset since coming here; I
+don’t like being alone.’
+
+‘You shall never be that,’ said Kitty, fondly nestling to her.
+
+‘Thank you, puss,’ said Madame, tapping her cheek; ‘but I am nervous,’
+she said, rapidly; ‘at night especially. Sometimes I have to get Selina
+to come into my room and stay all night.’
+
+‘Madame Midas nervous,’ thought Vandeloup to himself; ‘then I can guess
+the reason; she is afraid of her husband coming back to her.’
+
+Just at this moment the servant announced Mr Calton, and he entered,
+with his sharp, incisive face, looking clever and keen.
+
+‘I must apologise for being late, Mrs Villiers,’ he said, shaking hands
+with his hostess; ‘but business, you know, the pleasure of business.’
+
+‘Now,’ said Madame, quickly, ‘I hope you have come to the business of
+pleasure.’
+
+‘Very epigrammatic, my dear lady,’ said Calton, in his high, clear
+voice; ‘pray introduce me.’
+
+Madame did so, and they all went to dinner, Madame with Calton and Kitty
+following with Vandeloup.
+
+‘This,’ observed Calton, when they were all seated at the dinner table,
+‘is the perfection of dining; for we are four, and the guests, according
+to an epicure, should never be less than the Graces nor greater than the
+Muses.’
+
+And a very merry little dinner it was. All four were clever talkers,
+and Vandeloup and Calton being pitted against one another, excelled
+themselves; witty remarks, satirical sayings, and well-told stories were
+constantly coming from their lips, and they told their stories as their
+own and did not father them on Sydney Smith.
+
+‘If Sydney Smith was alive,’ said Calton, in reference to this, ‘he
+would be astonished at the number of stories he did not tell.’
+
+‘Yes,’ chimed in Vandeloup, gaily, ‘and astounded at their brilliancy.’
+
+‘After all,’ said Madame, smiling, ‘he’s a sheet-anchor for some people;
+for the best original story may fail, a dull one ascribed to Sydney
+Smith must produce a laugh.’
+
+‘Why?’ asked Kitty, in some wonder.
+
+‘Because,’ explained Calton, gravely, ‘society goes mainly by tradition,
+and our grandmothers having laughed at Sydney Smith’s jokes, they must
+necessarily be amusing. Depend upon it, jokes can be sanctified by time
+quite as much as creeds.’
+
+‘They are more amusing, at all events,’ said Madame, satirically.
+‘Creeds generally cause quarrels.’
+
+Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.
+
+‘And quarrels generally cause stories,’ he said, smiling; ‘it is the law
+of compensation.’
+
+They then went to the drawing-room and Kitty and Vandeloup both sang,
+and treated one another in a delightfully polite way. Madame Midas and
+Calton were both clever, but how much cleverer were the two young people
+at the piano.
+
+‘Are you going to Meddlechip’s ball?’ said Calton to Madame.
+
+‘Oh, yes,’ she answered, nodding her head, ‘I and Miss Marchurst are
+both going.’
+
+‘Who is Mr Meddlechip?’ asked Kitty, swinging round on the piano-stool.
+
+‘He is the most charitable man in Melbourne,’ said Gaston, with a faint
+sneer.
+
+‘Great is Diana of the Ephesians,’ said Calton, mockingly. ‘Because
+Mr Meddlechip suffers from too much money, and has to get rid of it to
+prevent himself being crushed like Tarpeia by the Sabine shields, he is
+called charitable.’
+
+‘He does good, though, doesn’t he?’ asked Madame.
+
+‘See advertisement,’ scoffed Calton. ‘Oh, yes! he will give thousands of
+pounds for any public object, but private charity is a waste of money in
+his eyes.’
+
+‘You are very hard on him,’ said Madame Midas, with a laugh.
+
+‘Ah! Mr Calton believes as I do,’ cried Vandeloup, ‘that it’s no good
+having friends unless you’re privileged to abuse them.’
+
+‘It’s one you take full advantage of, then,’ observed Kitty, saucily.
+
+‘I always take what I can get,’ he returned, mockingly; whereon she
+shivered, and Calton saw it.
+
+‘Ah!’ said that astute reader of character to himself, ‘there’s
+something between those two. ‘Gad! I’ll cross-examine my French friend.’
+
+They said good-night to the ladies, and walked to the St Kilda station,
+from thence took the train to town, and Calton put into force his
+cross-examination. He might as well have tried his artful questions on
+a rock as on Vandeloup, for that clever young gentleman saw through the
+barrister at once, and baffled him at every turn with his epigrammatic
+answers and consummate coolness.
+
+‘I confess,’ said Calton, when they said good-night to one another, ‘I
+confess you puzzle me.’
+
+‘Language,’ observed M. Vandeloup, with a smile, ‘was given to us to
+conceal our thoughts. Good night!’
+
+And they parted.
+
+‘The comedy is over for the night,’ thought Gaston as he walked along,
+‘and it was so true to nature that the spectators never thought it was
+art.’
+
+He was wrong, for Calton did.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+A PROFESSIONAL PHILANTHROPIST
+
+
+We have professional diners-out, professional beauties, professional
+Christians, then why not professional philanthropists? This brilliant
+century of ours has nothing to do with the word charity, as it savours
+too much of stealthy benevolence, so it has substituted in its place the
+long word philanthropy, which is much more genteel and comprehensive.
+Charity, the meekest of the Christian graces, has been long since
+dethroned, and her place is taken by the blatant braggard Philanthropy,
+who does his good deeds in a most ostentatious manner, and loudly
+invites the world to see his generosity, and praise him for it. Charity,
+modestly hooded, went into the houses of the poor, and tendered her
+gifts with smiles. Philanthropy now builds almshouses and hospitals,
+and rails at poverty if it has too much pride to occupy them. And
+what indeed, has poverty to do with pride?--it’s far too sumptuous and
+expensive an article, and can only be possessed by the rich, who can
+afford to wear it because it is paid for. Mr Meddlechip was rich, so
+he bought a large stock of pride, and wore it everywhere. It was not
+personal pride--he was not good-looking; it was not family pride--he
+never had a grandfather; nor was it pecuniary pride--he had too much
+money for that. But it was a mean, sneaking, insinuating pride that
+wrapped him round like a cloak, and pretended to be very humble, and
+only holding its money in trust for the poor. The poor ye have always
+with you--did not Mr Meddlechip know it? Ask the old men and women
+in the almshouses, and they would answer yes; but ask the squalid
+inhabitants of the slums, and they would probably say, ‘Meddlechip,
+‘o’s ‘e?’ Not that the great Ebenezer Meddlechip was unknown--oh,
+dear, no--he was a representative colonial; he sat in Parliament, and
+frequently spoke at those enlarged vestry meetings about the prosperity
+of the country. He laid foundation stones. He took the chair at public
+meetings. In fact, he had his finger in every public pie likely to bring
+him into notoriety; but not in private pies, oh, dear, no; he never did
+good by stealth and blush to find it fame. Any blushes he might have had
+would have been angry ones at his good deed not being known.
+
+He had come in the early days of the colony, and made a lot of money,
+being a shrewd man, and one who took advantage of every tide in the
+affairs of men. He was honest, that is honest as our present elastic
+acceptation of the word goes--and when he had accumulated a fortune he
+set to work to buy a few things. He bought a grand house at Toorak,
+then he bought a wife to do the honours of the grand house, and when
+his domestic affairs were quite settled, he bought popularity, which
+is about the cheapest thing anyone can buy. When the Society for the
+Supplying of Aborigines with White Waistcoats was started he headed the
+list with one thousand pounds--bravo, Meddlechip! The Secretary of
+the Band of Hard-up Matrons asked him for fifty pounds, and got five
+hundred--generous Meddlechip! And at the meeting of the Society for the
+Suppression of Vice among Married Men he gave two thousand pounds, and
+made a speech on the occasion, which made all the married men present
+tremble lest their sins should find them out--noble Meddlechip! He would
+give thousands away in public charity, have it well advertised in the
+newspapers, and then wonder, with humility, how the information got
+there; and he would give a poor woman in charge for asking for a penny,
+on the ground that she was a vagrant. Here, indeed, was a man for
+Victoria to be proud of; put up a statue to him in the centre of the
+city; let all the school children study a list of his noble actions as
+lessons; let the public at large grovel before him, and lick the dust of
+his benevolent shoes, for he is a professional philanthropist.
+
+Mrs Meddlechip, large, florid, and loud-voiced, was equally as well
+known as her husband, but in a different way. He posed as benevolence,
+she was the type of all that’s fashionable--that is, she knew everyone;
+gave large parties, went out to balls, theatres, and lawn tennis, and
+dressed in the very latest style, whether it suited her or not. She had
+been born and brought up in the colonies, but when her husband went to
+London as a representative colonial she went also, and stayed there
+a whole year, after which she came out to her native land and ran
+everything down in the most merciless manner. They did not do this in
+England--oh! dear no! nothing so common--the people in Melbourne had
+such dreadfully vulgar manners; but then, of course, they are not
+English; there was no aristocracy; even the dogs and horses were
+different; they had not the stamp of centuries of birth and breeding on
+them. In fact, to hear Mrs Meddlechip talk one would think that England
+was a perfect aristocratic paradise, and Victoria a vulgar--other place.
+She totally ignored the marvellously rapid growth of the country, and
+that the men and women in it were actually the men and women who had
+built it up year by year, so that even now it was taking its place among
+the nations of the earth. But Mrs Meddlechip was far too ladylike and
+fashionable for troubling about such things--oh dear, no--she left
+all these dry facts to Ebenezer, who could speak about them in his own
+pompous, blatant style at public meetings.
+
+This lady was one of those modern inventions known as a frisky matron,
+and said and did all manner of dreadful things, which people winked
+at because--she was Mrs Meddlechip, and eccentric. She had a young
+man always dangling after her at theatres and dances--sometimes one,
+sometimes another, but there was one who was a fixture. This was Barty
+Jarper, who acted as her poodle dog, and fetched and carried for her in
+the most amiable manner. When any new poodle dog came on the scene Barty
+would meekly resign his position, and retire into the background until
+such time as he was whistled back again to go through his antics.
+Barty attended her everywhere, made up her programmes, wrote out her
+invitations, danced with whosoever he was told, and was rewarded for all
+these services by being given the crumbs from the rich man’s table.
+Mr Jarper had a meek little way with Mrs Meddlechip, as if he was
+constantly apologising for having dared to have come into the world
+without her permission, but to other people he was rude enough, and in
+his own mean little soul looked upon himself quite as a man of fashion.
+How he managed to go about as he did was a standing puzzle to his
+friends, as he got only a small salary at the Hibernian Bank; yet he was
+to be seen at balls, theatres, tennis parties; constantly driving about
+in hansoms; in fact, lived as if he had an independent income. The
+general opinion was that he was supplied with money by Mrs Meddlechip,
+while others said he gambled; and, indeed, Barty was rather clever at
+throwing sixes, and frequently at the Bachelors’ Club won a sufficient
+sum to give him a new suit of clothes or pay his club subscription for
+the year. He was one of those bubbles which dance on the surface of
+society, yet are sure to vanish some day, and if God tempered the wind
+to any particular shorn lamb, that shorn lamb was Barty Jarper.
+
+The Meddlechips were giving a ball, therefore the mansion at Toorak
+was brilliantly illuminated and crowded with fashionable people. The
+ball-room was at the side of the house, and from it French windows
+opened on to a wide verandah, which was enclosed with drapery and hung
+with many-coloured Chinese lanterns. Beyond this the smooth green lawns
+stretched away to a thick fringe of trees, which grew beside the fence
+and screened the Meddlechip residence from the curious gaze of vulgar
+eyes.
+
+Kitty came under the guardianship of Mrs Riller, a young matron with
+dark hair, an imperious manner, and a young man always at her heels. Mrs
+Villiers intended to have come, but at the last moment was seized with
+one of her nervous fits, so decided to stop at home with Selina for
+company. Kitty, therefore, accompanied Mrs Riller to the ball, but the
+guardianship of that lady was more nominal than anything else, as she
+went off with Mr Bellthorp after introducing Kitty to Mrs Meddlechip,
+and flirted and danced with him the whole evening. Kitty, however,
+did not in the least mind being left to her own devices, for being an
+extremely pretty girl she soon had plenty of young men round her anxious
+to be introduced. She filled her programme rapidly and kept two valses
+for Vandeloup, as she knew he was going to be present, but he as yet had
+not made his appearance.
+
+He arrived about a quarter past ten o’clock, and was strolling leisurely
+up to the house, when he saw Pierre, standing amid a number of idlers
+at the gate. The dumb man stepped forward, and Vandeloup paused with a
+smile on his handsome lips, though he was angry enough at the meeting.
+
+‘Money again, I suppose?’ he said to Pierre, in a low voice, in French;
+‘don’t trouble me now, but come to my rooms to-morrow.’
+
+The dumb man nodded, and Vandeloup walked leisurely up the path. Then
+Pierre followed him right up to the steps which led to the house, saw
+him enter the brilliantly-lighted hall, and then hid himself in the
+shrubs which grew on the edge of the lawn. There, in close hiding, he
+could hear the sound of music and voices, and could see the door of
+the fernery wide open, and caught glimpses of dainty dresses and bare
+shoulders within.
+
+Vandeloup, quite ignorant that his friend was watching the house, put on
+his gloves leisurely, and walked in search of his hostess.
+
+Mrs Meddlechip glanced approvingly at Vandeloup as he came up, for he
+was extremely good-looking, and good-looking men were Mrs Meddlechip’s
+pet weakness. Barty was in attendance on his liege lady, and when he
+saw how she admired Vandeloup, he foresaw he would be off duty for some
+time. It would be Vandeloup promoted vice Jarper resigned, but Barty
+very well knew that Gaston was not a man to conduct himself like a
+poodle dog, so came to the conclusion he would be retained for use
+and M. Vandeloup for ornament. Meanwhile, he left Mrs Meddlechip to
+cultivate the acquaintance of the young Frenchman, and went off with a
+red-haired girl to the supper-room. Red-haired girl, who was remarkably
+ugly and self-complacent, had been a wallflower all the evening, but
+thought none the less of herself on that account. She assured Barty she
+was not hungry, but when she finished supper Mr Jarper was very glad,
+for the supper’s sake, she had no appetite.
+
+‘She’s the hungriest girl I ever met in my life,’ he said to Bellthorp
+afterwards; ‘ate up everything I gave her, and drank so much lemonade, I
+thought she’d go up like a balloon.’
+
+When Barty had satisfied the red-haired girl’s appetite--no easy
+matter--he left her to play wallflower and make spiteful remarks on
+the girls who were dancing, and took out another damsel, who smiled
+and smiled, and trod on his toes when he danced, till he wished her in
+Jericho. He asked if she was hungry, but, unlike the other girl, she was
+not; he said she must be tired, but oh, dear no, she was quite fresh; so
+she danced the whole waltz through and bumped Barty against everyone in
+the room; then said his step did not suit hers, which exasperated him so
+much--for Barty flattered himself on his waltzing--that he left her
+just as she was getting up a flirtation, and went to have a glass of
+champagne to soothe his feelings. Released from Mrs Meddlechip, Gaston
+went in search of Kitty, and found her flirting with Felix Rolleston,
+who was amusing her with his gay chatter.
+
+‘This is a deuced good-looking chappie,’ said Mr Rolleston, fixing his
+eyeglass in his eye and looking critically at Gaston as he approached
+them; ‘M. Vandeloup, isn’t it?’
+
+Kitty said it was.
+
+‘Oh! yes,’ went on Felix, brightly, ‘saw him about town--don’t know him
+personally; awfully like a fellow I once knew called Fitzgerald--Brian
+Fitzgerald--married now and got a family; funny thing, married Miss
+Frettlby, who used to live in your house.’
+
+‘Oh! that hansom cab murder,’ said Kitty, looking at him, ‘I’ve heard
+all about that.’
+
+‘Egad! I should think you had,’ observed Mr Rolleston, with a grin, ‘it
+was a nine days’ wonder; but here’s your friend, introduce me, pray,’ as
+Vandeloup came up.
+
+Kitty did so, and Felix improved the occasion.
+
+‘Knew you by sight,’ he said, shaking hands with Gaston, ‘but it’s a
+case of we never speak as we pass by, and all that sort of thing--come
+and look me up,’ hospitably, ‘South Yarra.’
+
+‘Delighted,’ said Gaston, smoothly, taking Kitty’s programme and putting
+his name down for the two vacant waltzes.
+
+‘Reciprocal, I assure you,’ said the lively Felix. ‘Oh, by Jove! excuse
+me, Miss Marchurst--there’s a polka--got to dance with a girl--you’ll
+see me in a minute--she’s a maypole--I’m not, ha! ha! You’ll say it’s
+the long and the short of it--ta-ta at present.’
+
+He hopped off gaily, and they soon saw him steering the maypole round
+the room, or rather, the maypole steered Felix, for her idea of the
+dance was to let Felix skip gaily round her; then she lifted him up and
+put him down a few feet further on, when he again skipped, and so the
+performance went on, to the intense amusement of Kitty and Gaston.
+
+‘My faith!’ said Vandeloup, satirically, dropping into a seat beside
+Kitty, ‘she is a maypole, and he’s a merry peasant dancing round it. By
+the way, Bebe, why isn’t Madame here to-night?’
+
+‘She’s not well,’ replied Kitty, unfurling her fan; ‘I don’t know what’s
+come over her, she’s so nervous.’
+
+‘Oh! indeed,’ said Vandeloup, politely; ‘Hum!--still afraid of her
+husband turning up,’ he said to himself, as Kitty was carried away for a
+valse by Mr Bellthorp; ‘how slow all this is?’ he went on, yawning, and
+rising from his seat; ‘I shan’t stay long, or that old woman will be
+seizing me again. Poor Kestrike, surely his sin has been punished enough
+in having such a wife,’ and M. Vandeloup strolled away to speak to Mrs
+Riller, who, being bereft of Bellthorp, was making signals to him with
+her fan.
+
+Barty Jarper had been hard at work all night on the poodle-dog system,
+and had danced with girls who could not dance, and talked with girls
+that could not talk, so, as a reward for his work, he promised himself a
+dance with Kitty. At the beginning of the evening he had secured a dance
+from her, and now, all his duties for the evening being over, he went to
+get it. Bellthorp had long since returned to Mrs Riller and flirtation,
+and Kitty had been dancing with a tall young man, with unsteady legs and
+an eye-glass that would not stick in his eye. She did not particularly
+care about Mr Jarper, with his effeminate little ways, but was quite
+glad when he came to carry her off from the unsteady legs and the
+eye-glass. The dance was the Lancers; but Kitty declared she would not
+dance it as she felt weary, so made Mr Jarper take her to supper. Barty
+was delighted, as he was hungry himself, so they secured a pleasant
+little nook, and Barty foraged for provisions.
+
+‘You know all about this house,’ said Kitty, when she saw how successful
+the young man was in getting nice things.
+
+‘Oh, yes,’ murmured Barty, quite delighted, ‘I know most of the houses
+in Melbourne--I know yours.’
+
+‘Mrs Villiers’?’ asked Kitty.
+
+Barty nodded.
+
+‘Used to go down there a lot when Mr Frettlby lived there,’ he said,
+sipping his wine. ‘I know every room in it.’
+
+‘You’d be invaluable as a burglar,’ said Kitty, a little contemptuously,
+as she looked at his slim figure.
+
+‘I dare say,’ replied Barty, who took the compliment in good faith.
+‘Some night I’ll climb up to your room and give you a fright.’
+
+‘Shows how much you know,’ retorted Miss Marchurst. ‘My room is next to
+Madame’s on the ground floor.’
+
+‘I know,’ said Barty, sagely, nodding his head. ‘It used to be a
+boudoir--nice little room. By the way, where is Mrs Villiers to-night?’
+
+‘She’s not well,’ replied Kitty, yawning behind her fan, for she was
+weary of Barty and his small talk. ‘She’s very worried.’
+
+‘Over money matters, I suppose?’
+
+Kitty laughed and shook her head.
+
+‘Hardly,’ she answered.
+
+‘I dare say,’ replied Barty, ‘she’s awfully rich. You know, I’m in the
+bank where her account is, and I know all about her. Rich! oh, she is
+rich! Lucky thing for that French fellow if he marries her.’
+
+‘Marries her?’ echoed Kitty, her face growing pale. ‘M. Vandeloup?’
+
+‘Yes,’ replied Barty, pleased at having made a sensation. ‘Her first
+husband has vanished, you know, and all the fellows are laying bets
+about Van marrying the grass widow.’
+
+‘What nonsense!’ said Kitty, in an agitated voice. ‘M. Vandeloup is her
+friend--nothing more.’
+
+Barty grinned.
+
+‘I’ve seen so much of that “friendship, and nothing more”, business,’ he
+said, significantly, whereupon Kitty rose to her feet.
+
+‘I’m tired,’ she said, coldly. ‘Kindly take me to Mrs Riller.’
+
+‘I’ve put my foot into it,’ thought Jarper, as he led her away. ‘I
+believe she’s spoons on Van herself.’
+
+Mrs Riller was not very pleased to see Kitty, as Mr Bellthorp was
+telling her some amusing scandals about her dearest friends, and, of
+course, had to stop when Kitty came up.
+
+‘Not dancing, dear?’ she asked, with a sympathetic smile, glancing
+angrily at Bellthorp, who seemed more struck with Kitty than he had any
+right to be, considering he was her property.
+
+‘No,’ replied Kitty, ‘I’m a little tired.’
+
+‘Miss Marchurst,’ observed Bellthorp, leaning towards her, ‘I’m sure
+I’ve seen you before.’
+
+Kitty felt a chill running through her veins as she remembered where
+their last meeting had been. The extremity of the danger gave her
+courage.
+
+‘I dare say,’ she replied, coldly turning her back on the young man,
+‘I’m not invisible.’
+
+Mrs Riller looked with all her eyes, for she wanted to know all about
+this pretty girl who dropped so unexpectedly into Melbourne society, so
+she determined to question Bellthorp when she got him alone. To this end
+she finessed.
+
+‘Oh! there’s that lovely valse,’ she said, as the band struck up ‘One
+summer’s night in Munich’. ‘If you are not engaged, Mr Bellthorp, we
+must have a turn.’
+
+‘Delighted,’ replied Bellthorp, languidly offering his arm, but thinking
+meanwhile, ‘confound these women, how they do work a man.’
+
+‘You, I suppose,’ said Mrs Riller to Kitty, ‘are going to play
+wallflower.’
+
+‘Hardly,’ observed a cool voice behind them; ‘Miss Marchurst dances this
+with me--you see, Mrs Riller,’ as that lady turned and saw Vandeloup,
+‘she has not your capability at playing wallflower,’ with a significant
+glance at Bellthorp.
+
+Mrs Riller understood the look, which seemed to pierce into the very
+depths of her frivolous little soul, and flushed angrily as she moved
+away with Mr Bellthorp and mentally determined to be even with Vandeloup
+on the first occasion.
+
+Gaston, quite conscious of the storm he had raised, smiled serenely, and
+then offered his arm to Kitty, which she refused, as she was determined
+to find out from his own lips the truth of Jarper’s statement regarding
+Madame Midas.
+
+‘I don’t want to dance,’ she said curtly, pointing to the seat beside
+her as an invitation for him to sit down.
+
+‘Pardon me,’ observed Vandeloup, blandly, ‘I do; we can talk afterwards
+if you like.’
+
+Their eyes met, and then Kitty arose and took his arm, with a charming
+pout. It was no good fighting against the quiet, masterful manner of
+this man, so she allowed him to put his arm round her waist and swing
+her slowly into the centre of the room. ‘One summer’s night in Munich’
+was a favourite valse, and everyone who could dance, and a good many who
+could not, were up on the floor. Every now and then, through the steady
+beat of the music, came the light laugh of a woman or the deeper tones
+of a man’s voice; and the glare of the lights, the flashing jewels on
+the bare necks and arms of women, the soft frou-frou of their dresses,
+as their partners swung them steadily round, and the subtle perfume of
+flowers gave an indescribable sensuous flavour to the whole scene. And
+the valse--who does not know it? with its sad refrain, which comes in
+every now and then throughout, even in the most brilliant passages.
+The whole story of a man’s faith and a woman’s treachery is contained
+therein.
+
+‘One summer’s night in Munich,’ sighed the heavy bass instruments,
+sadly and reproachfully, ‘I thought your heart was true!’ Listen to the
+melancholy notes of the prelude which recall the whole scene--do you not
+remember? The stars are shining, the night wind is blowing, and we are
+on the terrace looking down on the glittering lights of the city. Hark!
+that joyous sparkling strain, full of riant laughter, recalls the sad
+students who wandered past, and then from amid the airy ripple of
+notes comes the sweet, mellow strain of the ‘cello, which tells of love
+eternal amid the summer roses; how the tender melody sweeps on full
+of the perfume and mystic meanings of that night. Hark! is that the
+nightingale in the trees, or only the silvery notes of a violin,
+which comes stealing through the steady throb and swing of the heavier
+stringed instruments? Ah! why does the rhythm stop? A few chords
+breaking up the dream, the sound of a bugle calling you away, and
+the valse goes into the farewell motif with its tender longing and
+passionate anguish. Good-bye! you will be true? Your heart is mine,
+good-bye, sweetheart! Stop! that discord of angry notes--she is false
+to her soldier lover! The stars are pale, the nightingale is silent, the
+rose leaves fall, and the sad refrain comes stealing through the room
+again with its bitter reproach, ‘One summer’s night in Munich I knew
+your heart was false.’
+
+Kitty danced for a little time, but was too much agitated to enjoy the
+valse, in spite of the admirable partner M. Vandeloup made. She was
+determined to find out the truth, so stopped abruptly, and insisted on
+Vandeloup taking her to the conservatory.
+
+‘What for?’ he asked, as they threaded their way through the crowded
+room. ‘Is it important?’
+
+‘Very,’ she replied, looking straight at him; ‘it is essential to our
+comedy.’
+
+M. Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.
+
+‘My faith!’ he murmured, as they entered the fernery; ‘this comedy is
+becoming monotonous.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+IN THE FERNERY
+
+
+The fernery was a huge glass building on one side of the ballroom,
+filled with Australian and New Zealand ferns, and having a large
+fountain in the centre sending up a sparkling jet of water, which fell
+into the shallow stone basin filled with water lilies and their pure
+white flowers. At the end was a mimic representation of a mountain
+torrent, with real water tumbling down real rocks, and here and there
+in the crannies and crevices grew delicate little ferns, while overhead
+towered the great fronds of the tree ferns. The roof was a dense mass of
+greenery, and wire baskets filled with sinuous creepers hung down, with
+their contents straggling over. Electric lights in green globes were
+skilfully hidden all round, and a faint aquamarine twilight permeated
+the whole place, and made it look like a mermaid’s grotto in the depths
+of the sea. Here and there were delightful nooks, with well-cushioned
+seats, many of which were occupied by pretty girls and their attendant
+cavaliers. On one side of the fernery a wide door opened on to a low
+terrace, from whence steps went down to the lawn, and beyond was the
+dark fringe of trees wherein Pierre was concealed.
+
+Kitty and Vandeloup found a very comfortable nook just opposite the
+door, and they could see the white gleam of the terrace in the luminous
+starlight. Every now and then a couple would pass, black silhouettes
+against the clear sky, and around they could hear the murmur of voices
+and the musical tinkling of the fountain, while the melancholy music
+of the valse, with its haunting refrain, sounded through the pale green
+twilight. Barty Jarper was talking near them, in his mild little way, to
+a tall young lady in a bilious-looking green dress, and further off Mr
+Bellthorp was laughing with Mrs Riller behind the friendly shelter of
+her fan.
+
+‘Well,’ said Vandeloup, amiably, as he sank into a seat beside Kitty,
+‘what is this great matter you wish to speak about?’
+
+‘Madame Midas,’ retorted Kitty, looking straight at him.
+
+‘Such a delightful subject,’ murmured Gaston, closing his eyes, as he
+guessed what was coming; ‘go on, I’m all attention.’
+
+‘You are going to marry her,’ said Miss Marchurst, bending towards him
+and closing her fan with a snap.
+
+Vandeloup smiled faintly.
+
+‘You don’t say so?’ he murmured, opening his eyes and looking at her
+lazily; ‘who told you this news--for news it is to me, I assure you?’
+
+‘Then it’s not true?’ added Kitty, eagerly, with a kind of gasp.
+
+‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ he replied, indolently fingering his moustache;
+‘I haven’t asked her yet.’
+
+‘You are not going to do so?’ she said, rapidly, with a flush on her
+face.
+
+‘Why not?’ in surprise; ‘do you object?’
+
+‘Object? my God!’ she ejaculated, in a low fierce tone; ‘have you
+forgotten what we are to one another?’
+
+‘Friends, I understand,’ he said, looking at his hands, admiringly.
+
+‘And something more,’ she added, bitterly; ‘lovers!’
+
+‘Don’t talk so loud, my dear,’ replied Vandeloup, coolly; ‘it doesn’t do
+to let everyone know your private business.’
+
+‘It’s private now,’ she said, in a voice of passion, ‘but it will soon
+be public enough.’
+
+‘Indeed! which paper do you advertise in?’
+
+‘Listen to me, Gaston,’ she said, taking no notice of his sneer; ‘you
+will never marry Madame Midas; sooner than that, I will reveal all and
+kill myself.’
+
+‘You forget,’ he said, gently; ‘it is comedy, not tragedy, we play.’
+
+‘That is as I choose,’ she retorted; ‘see!’ and with a sudden gesture
+she put her hand into the bosom of her dress and took out the bottle of
+poison with the red bands. ‘I have it still.’
+
+‘So I perceive,’ he answered, smiling. ‘Do you always carry it about
+with you, like a modern Lucrezia Borgia?’
+
+‘Yes,’ she answered quietly; ‘it never leaves me, you see,’ with a
+sneer. ‘As you said yourself, it’s always well to be prepared for
+emergencies.’
+
+‘So it appears,’ observed Vandeloup, with a yawn, sitting up. ‘I
+wouldn’t use that poison if I were you; it is risky.’
+
+‘Oh, no, it’s not,’ answered Kitty; ‘it is fatal in its results, and
+leaves no trace behind.’
+
+‘There you are wrong,’ replied Gaston, coolly; ‘it does leave traces
+behind, but makes it appear as if apoplexy was the cause of death. Give
+me the bottle?’ peremptorily.
+
+‘No!’ she answered, defiantly, clenching it in her hand.
+
+‘I say yes,’ he said, in an angry whisper; ‘that poison is my secret,
+and I’m not going to have you play fast and loose with it; give it up,’
+and he placed his hand on her wrist.
+
+‘You hurt my wrist,’ she said.
+
+‘I’ll break your wrist, my darling,’ he said, quietly, ‘if you don’t
+give me that bottle.’
+
+Kitty wrenched her hand away, and rose to her feet.
+
+‘Sooner than that, I’ll throw it away,’ she said, and before he could
+stop her, she flung the bottle out on to the lawn, where it fell down
+near the trees.
+
+‘Bah! I will find it,’ he said, springing to his feet, but Kitty was too
+quick for him.
+
+‘M. Vandeloup,’ she said aloud, so that everyone could hear; ‘kindly
+take me back to the ball-room, will you, to finish our valse.’
+
+Vandeloup would have refused, but she had his arm, and as everyone
+was looking at him, he could not refuse without being guilty of marked
+discourtesy. Kitty had beaten him with his own weapons, so, with a
+half-admiring glance at her, he took her back to the ball-room, where
+the waltz was just ending.
+
+‘At all events,’ he said in her ear, as they went smoothly gliding round
+the room, ‘you won’t be able to do any mischief with it now to yourself
+or to anyone else.’
+
+‘Won’t I?’ she retorted quickly; ‘I have some more at home.’
+
+‘The deuce!’ he ejaculated.
+
+‘Yes,’ she replied, triumphantly; ‘the bottle I got that belonged to
+you, I put half its contents into another. So you see I can still do
+mischief, and,’ in a fierce whisper, ‘I will, if you don’t give up this
+idea of marrying Madame Midas.’
+
+‘I thought you knew me better than that,’ he said, in a tone of
+concentrated passion. ‘I will not.’
+
+Then I’ll poison her,’ she retorted.
+
+‘What, the woman who has been so kind to you?’
+
+‘Yes, I’d rather see her dead than married to a devil like you.’
+
+‘How amiable you are, Bebe,’ he said, with a laugh, as the music
+stopped.
+
+‘I am what you have made me,’ she replied, bitterly, and they walked
+into the drawing-room.
+
+After this Vandeloup clearly saw that it was a case of diamond cut
+diamond, for Kitty was becoming as clever with her tongue as he was.
+After all, though she was his pupil, and was getting as hardened and
+cynical as possible, he did not think it fair she should use his own
+weapons against himself. He did not believe she would try and poison
+Madame Midas, even though she was certain of not being detected, for
+he thought she was too tender-hearted. But, alas! he had taught her
+excellently well, and Kitty was rapidly arriving at the conclusion
+he had long since come to, that number one was the greatest number.
+Besides, her love for Vandeloup, though not so ardent as it had been,
+was too intense for her to let any other woman get a hold of him.
+Altogether, M. Vandeloup was in an extremely unpleasant position, and
+one of his own making.
+
+Having given Kitty over to the tender care of Mrs Rolleston, Vandeloup
+hurried outside to look for the missing bottle. He had guessed the
+position it fell in, and, striking a match, went to look over the smooth
+close-shorn turf. But though he was a long time, and looked carefully,
+the bottle was gone.
+
+‘The devil!’ said Vandeloup, startled by this discovery. ‘Who could have
+picked it up?’
+
+He went back into the conservatory, and, sitting down in his old place,
+commenced to review the position.
+
+It was most annoying about the poison, there was no doubt of that.
+He only hoped that whoever picked it up would know nothing about its
+dangerous qualities. After all, he could be certain about that, as no
+one but himself knew what the poison was and how it could be used. The
+person who picked up the bottle would probably throw it away again as
+useless; and then, again, perhaps when Kitty threw the bottle away the
+stopper came out, and the contents would be lost. And then Kitty still
+had more left, but--bah!--she would not use it on Madame Midas. That was
+the vague threat of a jealous woman to frighten him. The real danger he
+was in lay in the fact that she might tell Madame Midas the relations
+between them, and then there would be no chance of his marrying at all.
+If he could only stop Kitty’s mouth in some way--persuasion was thrown
+away on her. If he could with safety get rid of her he would. Ah! that
+was an idea. He had some of this poison--if he could only manage to give
+it to her, and thus remove her from his path. There would be no risk of
+discovery, as the poison left no traces behind, and if it came to the
+worst, it would appear she had committed suicide, for poison similar
+to what she had used would be found in her possession. It was a pity to
+kill her, so young and pretty, and yet his safety demanded it; for if
+she told Madame Midas all, it might lead to further inquiries, and M.
+Vandeloup well knew his past life would not bear looking into. Another
+thing, she had threatened him about some secret she held--he did not
+know what it was, and yet almost guessed; if that was the secret she
+must be got rid of, for it would imperil not only his liberty, but
+his life. Well, if he had to get rid of her, the sooner he did so the
+better, for even on the next day she might tell all--he would have to
+give her the poison that night--but how? that was the difficulty.
+He could not do it at this ball, as it would be too apparent if she
+died--no--it would have to be administered secretly when she went home.
+But then she would go to Madame Midas’ room to see how she was, and
+then would retire to her own room. He knew where that was--just off
+Mrs Villiers’ room; there were French windows in both rooms--two in Mrs
+Villiers’, and one in Kitty’s. That was the plan--they would be left
+open as the night was hot. Suppose he went down to St Kilda, and got
+into the garden, he knew every inch of the way; then he could slip into
+the open window, and if it was not open, he could use a diamond ring
+to cut the glass. He had a diamond ring he never wore, so if Kitty was
+discovered to be poisoned, and the glass cut, they would never suspect
+him, as he did not wear rings at all, and the evidence of the cut window
+would show a diamond must have been used. Well, suppose he got inside,
+Kitty would be asleep, and he could put the poison into the water
+carafe, or he could put it in a glass of water and leave it standing;
+the risk would be, would she drink it or not--he would have to run that
+risk; if he failed this time, he would not the next. But, then, suppose
+she awoke and screamed--pshaw! when she saw it was he Kitty would not
+dare to make a scene, and he could easily make some excuse for his
+presence there. It was a wild scheme, but then he was in such a
+dangerous position that he had to try everything.
+
+When M. Vandeloup had come to this conclusion he arose, and, going to
+the supper room, drank a glass of brandy; for even he, cool as he was,
+felt a little nervous over the crime he was about to commit. He thought
+he would give Kitty one last chance, so when she was already cloaked,
+waiting with Mrs Riller for the carriage, he drew her aside.
+
+‘You did not mean what you said tonight,’ he whispered, looking
+searchingly at her.
+
+‘Yes, I did,’ she replied, defiantly; ‘if you push me to extremities,
+you must take the consequences.’
+
+‘It will be the worse for you,’ he said, threateningly, as the carriage
+drove up.
+
+‘I’m not afraid of you,’ she retorted, shrugging her shoulders, a trick
+she had learned from him; ‘you have ruined my life, but I’m not going to
+let you ruin Madame’s. I’d sooner see her dead than in your arms.’
+
+‘Remember, I have warned you,’ he said, gravely, handing her to the
+carriage. ‘Good night!’
+
+‘Good night!’ she answered, mockingly; ‘and to-morrow,’ in a low voice,
+‘you will be astonished.’
+
+‘And to-morrow,’ he said to himself, as the carriage drove off, ‘you
+will be dead.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE VISION OF MISS KITTY MARCHURST
+
+
+Everyone knows the story of Damocles, and how uncomfortable he felt with
+the sword suspended by a hair over his head. No one could enjoy their
+dinner under such circumstances, and it is much to be thankful for that
+hosts of the present day do not indulge in these practical jokes. But
+though history does not repeat itself exactly regarding the suspended
+sword, yet there are cases when a sense of impending misfortune has the
+same effect on the spirits. This was the case of Madame Midas. She
+was not by any means of a nervous temperature, yet ever since the
+disappearance of her husband she was a prey to a secret dread, which,
+reacting on her nerves, rendered her miserable. Had Mr Villiers only
+appeared, she would have known how to deal with him, and done so
+promptly, but it was his absence that made her afraid. Was he dead?
+If so, why was his body not found; if he was not dead, why did he not
+reappear on the scene. Allowing, for the sake of argument, that he had
+stolen the nugget and left the colony in order to enjoy the fruits of
+his villainy--well, the nugget weighed about three hundred ounces--and
+that if he disposed of it, as he must have done, it would give him a sum
+of money a little over one thousand pounds. True, his possession of such
+a large mass of gold would awake suspicions in the mind of anyone he
+went to; but then, there were people who were always ready to do shady
+things, provided they were well paid. So whomsoever he went to would
+levy blackmail on him on threat of informing the police and having him
+arrested. Therefore, the most feasible thing would be that he had got
+about half of the value of the nugget, which would be about six hundred
+pounds. Say that he did so, a whole year had elapsed, and Madame Midas
+knew her husband well enough to know that six hundred pounds would soon
+slip through his fingers, so at the present time he must once more be
+penniless. If he was, why did he not come back to her and demand more
+money now she was rich? Even had he gone to a distant place, he would
+always have kept enough money to pay his way back to Victoria, so that
+he could wring money out of her. It was this unpleasant feeling of being
+watched that haunted her and made her uneasy. The constant strain began
+to tell on her; she became ill and haggard-looking, and her eyes were
+always glancing around in the anxious manner common to hunted animals.
+She felt as though she were advancing on a masked battery, and at any
+moment a shot might strike her from the most unexpected quarter. She
+tried to laugh off the feeling and blamed herself severely for the
+morbid state of mind into which she was falling; but it was no use, for
+by day and night the sense of impending misfortune hung over her like
+the sword of Damocles, ready to fall at any moment. If her husband would
+only appear, she would settle an income on him, on condition he ceased
+to trouble her, but at present she was fighting in the dark with an
+unknown enemy. She became afraid of being left alone, and even when
+seated quietly with Selina, would suddenly start and look apprehensively
+towards the door, as if she heard his footstep. Imagination, when
+uncontrolled, can keep the mind on a mental rack, to which that of the
+Inquisition was a bed of roses.
+
+Selina was grieved at this state of things, and tried to argue and
+comfort her mistress with the most amiable proverbs, but she was quite
+unable to administer to a mind diseased, and Mrs Villiers’ life became a
+perfect hell upon earth.
+
+‘Are my troubles never going to end?’ she said to Selina on the night of
+the Meddlechip ball, as she paced restlessly up and down her room; ‘this
+man has embittered the whole of my life, and now he is stabbing me in
+the dark.’
+
+‘Let the dead past bury its dead,’ quoted Selina, who was arranging the
+room for the night.
+
+‘Pshaw!’ retorted Madame, impatiently, walking to the French window at
+the end of the room and opening it; ‘how do you know he is dead? Come
+here, Selina,’ she went on, beckoning to the old woman, and pointing
+outside to the garden bathed in moonlight; ‘I have always a dread
+lest he may be watching the house. Even now he may be concealed
+yonder’--pointing down the garden.
+
+Selina looked out, but could see nothing. There was a smooth lawn, burnt
+and yellow with the heat, which stretched for about fifty feet, and
+ended in a low quickset hedge at the foot of a red brick wall which ran
+down that side of the property. The top of this wall was set with broken
+bottles, and beyond was the street, where they could hear people passing
+along. The moonlight rendered all this as light as day, and, as Selina
+pointed out to her mistress, there was no place where a man could
+conceal himself. But this did not satisfy Madame; she left the window
+half open, so that the cool night wind could blow in, and drew together
+the red velvet curtains which hung there.
+
+‘You’ve left the window open,’ remarked Selina, looking at her mistress,
+‘and if you are nervous it will not make you feel safe.’
+
+Madame Midas glanced at the window.
+
+‘It’s so hot,’ she said, plaintively, ‘I will get no sleep. Can’t you
+manage to fix it up, so that I can leave it open?’
+
+‘I’ll try,’ answered Selina, and she undressed her mistress and put her
+to bed, then proceeded to fix up a kind of burglar trap. The bed was a
+four-poster, with heavy crimson curtains, and the top was pushed against
+the wall, near the window. The curtains of the window and those of
+the bed prevented any draught blowing in; and directly in front of the
+window, Selina set a small wood table, so that anyone who tried to enter
+would throw it over, and thus put the sleeper on the alert. On this she
+put a night-light, a book, in case Madame should wake up and want to
+read--a thing she very often did--and a glass of homemade lemonade, for
+a night drink. Then she locked the other window and drew the curtains,
+and, after going into Kitty’s room, which opened off the larger one, and
+fixing up the one window there in the same way, she prepared to retire,
+but Madame stopped her.
+
+‘You must stay all night with me, Selina,’ she said, irritably. ‘I can’t
+be left alone.’
+
+‘But, Miss Kitty,’ objected Selina, ‘she’ll expect to be waited for
+coming home from the ball.’
+
+‘Well, she comes in here to go to her own room,’ said Madame,
+impatiently; ‘you can leave the door unlocked.’
+
+‘Well,’ observed Miss Sprotts, grimly, beginning to undress herself,
+‘for a nervous woman, you leave a great many windows and doors open.’
+
+‘I’m not afraid as long as you are with me,’ said Madame, yawning; ‘it’s
+by myself I get nervous.’
+
+Miss Sprotts sniffed, and observed that ‘Prevention is better than
+cure,’ then went to bed, and both she and Madame were soon fast asleep.
+Selina slept on the outside of the bed, and Madame, having a sense of
+security from being with someone, slumbered calmly; so the night wore
+drowsily on, and nothing could be heard but the steady ticking of the
+clock and the heavy breathing of the two women.
+
+A sleepy servant admitted Kitty when she came home from the ball, and
+had said goodbye to Mrs Riller and Bellthorp. Then Mrs Riller, whose
+husband had gone home three hours before, drove away with Bellthorp, and
+Kitty went into Madame’s room, while the sleepy servant, thankful that
+his vigil for the night was over, went to bed. Kitty found Madame’s door
+ajar, and went in softly, fearful lest she might wake her. She did not
+know that Selina was in the room, and as she heard the steady breathing
+of the sleepers, she concluded that Madame was asleep, and resolved to
+go quietly into her own room without disturbing the sleeper. So eerie
+the room looked with the faint night-light burning on the table beside
+the bed, and all the shadows, not marked and distinct as in a strong
+glare, were faintly confused. Just near the door was a long
+chevral glass, and Kitty caught sight of herself in it, wan and
+spectral-looking, in her white dress, and, as she let the heavy blue
+cloak fall from her shoulders, a perfect shower of apple blossoms were
+shaken on to the floor. Her hair had come undone from its sleek, smooth
+plaits, and now hung like a veil of gold on her shoulders. She looked
+closely at herself in the glass, and her face looked worn and haggard in
+the dim light. A pungent acrid odour permeated the room, and the heavy
+velvet curtains moved with subdued rustlings as the wind stole in
+through the window. On a table near her was a portrait of Vandeloup,
+which he had given Madame two days before, and though she could not
+see the face she knew it was his. Stretching out her hand she took the
+photograph from its stand, and sank into a low chair which stood at
+the end of the room some distance from the bed. So noiseless were her
+movements that the two sleepers never awoke, and the girl sat in
+the chair with the portrait in her hand dreaming of the man whom it
+represented. She knew his handsome face was smiling up at her out of the
+glimmering gloom, and clenched her hands in anger as she thought how he
+had treated her. She let the portrait fall on her lap, and leaning back
+in the chair, with all her golden hair showering down loosely over her
+shoulders, gave herself up to reflection.
+
+He was going to marry Madame Midas--the man who had ruined her life; he
+would hold another woman in his arms and tell her all the false tales he
+had told her. He would look into her eyes with his own, and she would be
+unable to see the treachery and guile hidden in their depths. She could
+not stand it. False friend, false lover, he had been, but to see him
+married to another--no! it was too much. And yet what could she do? A
+woman in love believes no ill of the man she adores, and if she was to
+tell Madame Midas all she would not be believed. Ah! it was useless
+to fight against fate, it was too strong for her, so she would have to
+suffer in silence, and see them happy. That story of Hans Andersen’s,
+which she had read, about the little mermaid who danced, and felt that
+swords were wounding her feet while the prince smiled on his bride--yes,
+that was her case. She would have to stand by in silence and see him
+caressing another woman, while every caress would stab her like a sword.
+Was there no way of stopping it? Ah! what is that? The poison--no! no!
+anything but that. Madame had been kind to her, and she could not repay
+her trust with treachery. No, she was not weak enough for that. And yet
+suppose Madame died? no one could tell she had been poisoned, and then
+she could marry Vandeloup. Madame was sleeping in yonder bed, and on the
+table there was a glass with some liquid in it. She would only have to
+go to her room, fetch the poison, and put it in there--then retire to
+bed. Madame would surely drink during the night, and then--yes, there
+was only one way--the poison!
+
+How still the house was: not a sound but the ticking of the clock in the
+hall and the rushing scamper of a rat or mouse. The dawn reddens faintly
+in the east and the chill morning breeze comes up from the south, salt
+with the odours of the ocean. Ah! what is that? a scream--a woman’s
+voice--then another, and the bell rings furiously. The frightened
+servants collect from all parts of the house, in all shapes of dress and
+undress. The bell sounds from the bedroom of Mrs Villiers, and having
+ascertained this they all rush in. What a sight meets their eyes. Kitty
+Marchurst, still in her ball dress, clinging convulsively to the chair;
+Madame Midas, pale but calm, ringing the bell; and on the bed, with one
+arm hanging over, lies Selina Sprotts--dead! The table near the bed
+was overturned on the floor, and the glass and the night-lamp both lie
+smashed to pieces on the carpet.
+
+‘Send for a doctor at once,’ cried Madame, letting go the bell-rope and
+crossing to the window; ‘Selina has had a fit of some sort.’
+
+Startled servant goes out to stables and wakes up the grooms, one
+of whom is soon on horseback riding for dear life to Dr Chinston.
+Clatter--clatter along in the keen morning air; a few workmen on their
+way to work gaze in surprise at this furious rider. Luckily, the doctor
+lives in St Kilda, and being awoke out of his sleep, dresses himself
+quickly, and taking the groom’s horse, rides back to Mrs Villiers’
+house. He dismounts, enters the house, then the bedroom. Kitty, pale and
+wan, is seated in the chair; the window curtains are drawn, and the cold
+light of day pours into the room, while Madame Midas is kneeling beside
+the corpse, with all the servants around her. Dr Chinston lifts the arm;
+it falls limply down. The face is ghastly white, the eyes staring; there
+is a streak of foam on the tightly clenched mouth. The doctor puts his
+hand on the heart--not a throb; he closes the staring eyes reverently,
+and turns to the kneeling woman and the frightened servants.
+
+‘She is dead,’ he says, briefly, and orders them to leave the room.
+
+‘When did this occur, Mrs Villiers?’ he asked, when the room had been
+cleared and only himself, Madame, and Kitty remained.
+
+‘I can’t tell you,’ replied Madame, weeping; ‘she was all right last
+night when we went to bed, and she stayed all night with me because I
+was nervous. I slept soundly, when I was awakened by a cry and saw Kitty
+standing beside the bed and Selina in convulsions; then she became quite
+still and lay like that till you came. What is the cause?’
+
+‘Apoplexy,’ replied the doctor, doubtfully; ‘at least, judging from the
+symptoms; but perhaps Miss Marchurst can tell us when the attack came
+on?’
+
+He turned to Kitty, who was shivering in the chair and looked so pale
+that Madame Midas went over to her to see what was the matter. The
+girl, however, shrank away with a cry as the elder woman approached, and
+rising to her feet moved unsteadily towards the doctor.
+
+‘You say she,’ pointing to the body, ‘died of apoplexy?’
+
+‘Yes,’ he answered, curtly, ‘all the symptoms of apoplexy are there.’
+
+‘You are wrong!’ gasped Kitty, laying her hand on his arm, ‘it is
+poison!’
+
+‘Poison!’ echoed Madame and the Doctor in surprise.
+
+‘Listen,’ said Kitty, quickly, pulling herself together by a great
+effort. ‘I came home from the ball between two and three, I entered
+the room to go to my own,’ pointing to the other door; ‘I did not know
+Selina was with Madame.’
+
+‘No,’ said Madame, quietly, ‘that is true, I only asked her to stop at
+the last moment.’
+
+‘I was going quietly to bed,’ resumed Kitty, hurriedly, ‘in order not
+to waken Madame, when I saw the portrait of M. Vandeloup on the table; I
+took it up to look at it.’
+
+‘How could you see without a light?’ asked Dr Chinston, sharply, looking
+at her.
+
+‘There was a night light burning,’ replied Kitty, pointing to the
+fragments on the floor; ‘and I could only guess it was M. Vandeloup’s
+portrait; but at all events,’ she said, quickly, ‘I sat down in the
+chair over there and fell asleep.’
+
+‘You see, doctor, she had been to a ball and was tired,’ interposed
+Madame Midas; ‘but go on, Kitty, I want to know why you say Selina was
+poisoned.’
+
+‘I don’t know how long I was asleep,’ said Kitty, wetting her dry lips
+with her tongue, ‘but I was awoke by a noise at the window there,’
+pointing towards the window, upon which both her listeners turned
+towards it, ‘and looking, I saw a hand coming out from behind the
+curtain with a bottle in it; it held the bottle over the glass on the
+table, and after pouring the contents in, then withdrew.’
+
+‘And why did you not cry out for assistance?’ asked the doctor, quickly.
+
+‘I couldn’t,’ she replied, ‘I was so afraid that I fainted. I recovered
+my senses, Selina had drank the poison, and when I got up on my feet and
+went to the bed she was in convulsions; I woke Madame, and that’s all.’
+
+‘A strange story,’ said Chinston, musingly, ‘where is the glass?’
+
+‘It’s broken, doctor,’ replied Madame Midas; ‘in getting out of bed I
+knocked the table down, and both the night lamp and glass smashed.’
+
+‘No one could have been concealed behind the curtain of the window?’
+said the doctor to Madame Midas.
+
+‘No,’ she replied, ‘but the window was open all night; so if it is as
+Kitty says, the man who gave the poison must have put his hand through
+the open window.’
+
+Dr Chinston went to the window and looked out; there were no marks of
+feet on the flower bed, where it was so soft that anyone standing on it
+would have left a footmark behind.
+
+‘Strange,’ said the doctor, ‘it’s a peculiar story,’ looking at Kitty
+keenly.
+
+‘But a true one,’ she replied boldly, the colour coming back to her
+face; ‘I say she was poisoned.’
+
+‘By whom?’ asked Madame Midas, the memory of her husband coming back to
+her.
+
+‘I can’t tell you,’ answered Kitty, ‘I only saw the hand.’
+
+‘At all events,’ said Chinston, slowly, ‘the poisoner did not know that
+your nurse was with you, so the poison was meant for Mrs Villiers.’
+
+For me?’ she echoed, ghastly pale; ‘I knew it,--my husband is alive, and
+this is his work.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A STARTLING DISCOVERY
+
+
+Ill news travels fast, and before noon the death of Selina Sprotts was
+known all over Melbourne. The ubiquitous reporter, of course, appeared
+on the scene, and the evening papers gave its own version of the affair,
+and a hint at foul play. There was no grounds for this statement, as Dr
+Chinston told Kitty and Madame Midas to say nothing about the poison,
+and it was generally understood that the deceased had died from
+apoplexy. A rumour, however, which originated none knew how, crept about
+among everyone that poison was the cause of death, and this, being added
+to by some and embellished in all its little details by others, there
+was soon a complete story made up about the affair. At the Bachelor’s
+Club it was being warmly spoken about when Vandeloup came in about
+eight o’clock in the evening; and when he appeared he was immediately
+overwhelmed with inquiries. He looked cool and calm as usual, and stood
+smiling quietly on the excited group before him.
+
+‘You know Mrs Villiers,’ said Bellthorp, in an assertive tone, ‘so you
+must know all about the affair.’ ‘I don’t see that,’ returned Gaston,
+pulling at his moustache, ‘knowing anyone does not include a knowledge
+of all that goes on in the house. I assure you, beyond what there is in
+the papers, I am as ignorant as you are.’
+
+‘They say this woman--Sprotts or Potts, or something--died from
+poison,’ said Barty Jarper, who had been all round the place collecting
+information.
+
+‘Apoplexy, the doctor says,’ said Bellthorp, lighting a cigarette;
+‘she was in the same room with Mrs Villiers and was found dead in the
+morning.’
+
+‘Miss Marchurst was also in the room,’ put in Barty, eagerly.
+
+‘Oh, indeed!’ said Vandeloup, smoothly, turning to him; ‘do you think
+she had anything to do with it?’
+
+‘Of course not,’ said Rolleston, who had just entered, ‘she had no
+reason to kill the woman.’
+
+Vandeloup smiled.
+
+‘So logical you are,’ he murmured, ‘you want a reason for everything.’
+
+‘Naturally,’ retorted Felix, fixing in his eyeglass, ‘there is no effect
+without a cause.’
+
+‘It couldn’t have been Miss Marchurst,’ said Bellthorp, ‘they say that
+the poison was poured out of a bottle held by a hand which came through
+the window--it’s quite true,’ defiantly looking at the disbelieving
+faces round him; ‘one of Mrs Villiers’ servants heard it in the house
+and told Mrs Riller’s maid.’
+
+‘From whence,’ said Vandeloup, politely, ‘it was transmitted to
+you--precisely.’
+
+Bellthorp reddened slightly, and turned away as he saw the other
+smiling, for his relations with Mrs Riller were well known.
+
+‘That hand business is all bosh,’ observed Felix Rolleston,
+authoritatively; ‘it’s in a play called “The Hidden Hand”.’
+
+‘Perhaps the person who poisoned Miss Sprotts, got the idea from it?’
+suggested Jarper.
+
+‘Pshaw, my dear fellow,’ said Vandeloup, languidly; ‘people don’t go to
+melodrama for ideas. Everyone has got their own version of this story;
+the best thing to do is to await the result of the inquest.’
+
+‘Is there to be an inquest?’ cried all.
+
+‘So I’ve heard,’ replied the Frenchman, coolly; ‘sounds as if there was
+something wrong, doesn’t it?’
+
+‘It’s a curious poisoning case,’ observed Bellthorp.
+
+‘Ah, but it isn’t proved that there is any poisoning about it,’ said
+Vandeloup, looking keenly at him; ‘you jump to conclusions.’
+
+‘There is no smoke without fire,’ replied Rolleston, sagely. ‘I expect
+we’ll all be rather astonished when the inquest is held,’ and so the
+discussion closed.
+
+The inquest was appointed to take place next day, and Calton had been
+asked by Madame Midas to be present on her behalf. Kilsip, a detective
+officer, was also present, and, curled up like a cat in the corner, was
+listening to every word of the evidence.
+
+The first witness called was Madame Midas, who deposed that the
+deceased, Selina Jane Sprotts, was her servant. She had gone to bed in
+excellent health, and next morning she had found her dead.
+
+The Coroner asked a few questions relative to the case.
+
+Q. Miss Marchurst awoke you, I believe?
+
+A. Yes.
+
+Q. And her room is off yours?
+
+A. Yes.
+
+Q. Had she to go through your room to reach her own?
+
+A. She had. There was no other way of getting there.
+
+Q. One of the windows of your room was open?
+
+A. It was--all night.
+
+Miss Kitty Marchurst was then called, and being sworn, gave her story
+of the hand coming through the window. This caused a great sensation
+in Court, and Calton looked puzzled, while Kilsip, scenting a mystery,
+rubbed his lean hands together softly.
+
+Q. You live with Mrs Villiers, I believe, Miss Marchurst?
+
+A. I do.
+
+Q. And you knew the deceased intimately?
+
+A. I had known her all my life.
+
+Q. Had she anyone who would wish to injure her?
+
+A. Not that I knew of. She was a favourite with everyone.
+
+Q. What time did you come home from the ball you were at?
+
+A. About half-past two, I think. I went straight to Mrs Villiers’ room.
+
+Q. With the intention of going through it to reach your own?
+
+A. Yes.
+
+Q. You say you fell asleep looking at a portrait. How long did you
+sleep?
+
+A. I don’t know. I was awakened by a noise at the window, and saw the
+hand appear.
+
+Q. Was it a man’s hand or a woman’s?
+
+A. I don’t know. It was too indistinct for me to see clearly; and I was
+so afraid, I fainted.
+
+Q. You saw it pour something from a bottle into the glass on the table?
+
+A. Yes; but I did not see it withdraw. I fainted right off.
+
+Q. When you recovered your senses, the deceased had drank the contents
+of the glass?
+
+A. Yes. She must have felt thirsty and drank it, not knowing it was
+poisoned. Q. How do you know it was poisoned?
+
+A. I only suppose so. I don’t think anyone would come to a window and
+pour anything into a glass without some evil purpose.
+
+The Coroner then asked why the glass with what remained of the contents
+had not been put in evidence, but was informed that the glass was
+broken.
+
+When Kitty had ended her evidence and was stepping down, she caught
+the eye of Vandeloup, who was looking at her keenly. She met his gaze
+defiantly, and he smiled meaningly at her. At this moment, however,
+Kilsip bent forward and whispered something to the Coroner, whereupon
+Kitty was recalled.
+
+Q. You were an actress, Miss Marchurst?
+
+A. Yes. I was on tour with Mr Theodore Wopples for some time.
+
+Q. Do you know a drama called ‘The Hidden Hand’?
+
+A. Yes--I have played in it once or twice.
+
+Q. Is there not a strong resemblance between your story of this crime
+and the drama?
+
+A. Yes, it is very much the same.
+
+Kilsip then gave his evidence, and deposed that he had examined the
+ground between the window, where the hand was alleged to have appeared,
+and the garden wall. There were no footmarks on the flower-bed under the
+window, which was the only place where footmarks would show, as the lawn
+itself was hard and dry. He also examined the wall, but could find no
+evidence that anyone had climbed over it, as it was defended by broken
+bottles, and the bushes at its foot were not crushed or disturbed in any
+way.
+
+Dr Chinston was then called, and deposed that he had made a post-mortem
+examination of the body of the deceased. The body was that of a woman of
+apparently fifty or fifty-five years of age, and of medium height; the
+body was well nourished. There were no ulcers or other signs of disease,
+and no marks of violence on the body. The brain was congested and soft,
+and there was an abnormal amount of fluid in the spaces known as the
+ventricles of the brain; the lungs were gorged with dark fluid blood;
+the heart appeared healthy, its left side was contracted and empty, but
+the right was dilated and filled with dark fluid blood; the stomach was
+somewhat congested, and contained a little partially digested food; the
+intestines here and there were congested, and throughout the body the
+blood was dark and fluid.
+
+Q. What then, in your opinion, was the cause of death?
+
+A. In my opinion death resulted from serous effusion on the brain,
+commonly known as serous apoplexy.
+
+Q. Then you found no appearances in the stomach, or elsewhere, which
+would lead you to believe poison had been taken?
+
+A. No, none.
+
+Q. From the post-mortem examination could you say the death of the
+deceased was not due to some narcotic poison?
+
+A. No: the post-mortem appearances of the body are quite consistent with
+those of poisoning by certain poisons, but there is no reason to suppose
+that any poison has been administered in this case, as I, of course,
+go by what I see; and the presence of poisons, especially vegetable
+poisons, can only be detected by chemical analysis.
+
+Q. Did you analyse the contents of the stomach chemically?
+
+A. No; it was not my duty to do so; I handed over the stomach to the
+police, seeing that there is suspicion of poison, and thence it will go
+to the Government analyst.
+
+Q. It is stated that the deceased had convulsions before she died--is
+this not a symptom of narcotic poisoning?
+
+A. In some cases, yes, but not commonly; aconite, for instance, always
+produces convulsions in animals, seldom in man.
+
+Q. How do you account for the congested condition of the lungs?
+
+A. I believe the serous effusion caused death by suspended respiration.
+
+Q. Was there any odour perceptible?
+
+A. No, none whatsoever.
+
+The inquest was then adjourned till next day, and there was great
+excitement over the affair. If Kitty Marchurst’s statement was true, the
+deceased must have died from the administration of poison; but, on the
+other hand, Dr Chinston asserted positively that there was no trace of
+poison, and that the deceased had clearly died from apoplexy. Public
+opinion was very much divided, some asserting that Kitty’s story was
+true, while others said she had got the idea from ‘The Hidden Hand’, and
+only told it in order to make herself notorious. There were plenty
+of letters written to the papers on the subject, each offering a new
+solution of the difficulty, but the fact remained the same, that Kitty
+said the deceased had been poisoned; the doctor that she had died of
+apoplexy. Calton was considerably puzzled over the matter. Of course,
+there was no doubt that the man who committed the murder had intended to
+poison Madame Midas, but the fact that Selina stayed all night with her,
+had resulted in the wrong person being killed. Madame Midas told Calton
+the whole story of her life, and asserted positively that if the poison
+was meant for her, Villiers must have administered it. This was all very
+well, but the question then arose, was Villiers alive? The police were
+once more set to work, and once more their search resulted in nothing.
+Altogether the whole affair was wrapped in mystery, as it could not even
+be told if a murder had been committed, or if the deceased had died from
+natural causes. The only chance of finding out the truth would be to
+have the stomach analysed, and the cause of death ascertained; once that
+was done, and the matter could be gone on with, or dropped, according
+to the report of the analyst. If he said it was apoplexy, Kitty’s story
+would necessarily have to be discredited as an invention; but if, on
+the other hand, the traces of poison were found, search would have to be
+made for the murderer. Matters were at a deadlock, and everyone waited
+impatiently for the report of the analyst. Suddenly, however, a new
+interest was given to the case by the assertion that a Ballarat doctor,
+called Gollipeck, who was a noted toxicologist, had come down to
+Melbourne to assist at the analysis of the stomach, and knew something
+which would throw light on the mysterious death.
+
+Vandeloup saw the paragraph which gave this information, and it
+disturbed him very much.
+
+‘Curse that book of Prevol’s,’ he said to himself, as he threw down the
+paper: ‘it will put them on the right track, and then--well,’ observed
+M. Vandeloup, sententiously, ‘they say danger sharpens a man’s wits;
+it’s lucky for me if it does.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND
+
+
+M. Vandeloup’s rooms in Clarendon Street, East Melbourne, were very
+luxuriously and artistically furnished, in perfect accordance with the
+taste of their owner, but as the satiated despot is depicted by the
+moralists as miserable amid all his splendour, so M. Gaston Vandeloup,
+though not exactly miserable, was very ill at ease. The inquest had been
+adjourned until the Government analyst, assisted by Dr Gollipeck, had
+examined the stomach, and according to a paragraph in the evening paper,
+some strange statements, implicating various people, would be made next
+day. It was this that made Vandeloup so uneasy, for he knew that Dr
+Gollipeck would trace a resemblance between the death of Selina Sprotts
+in Melbourne and Adele Blondet in Paris, and then the question would
+arise how the poison used in the one case came to be used in the other.
+If that question arose it would be all over with him, for he would not
+dare to face any examination, and as discretion is the better part
+of valour, M. Vandeloup decided to leave the country. With his usual
+foresight he had guessed that Dr Gollipeck would be mixed up in the
+affair, so had drawn his money out of all securities in which it was
+invested, sent most of it to America to a New York bank, reserving only
+a certain sum for travelling purposes. He was going to leave Melbourne
+next morning by the express train for Sydney, and there would catch the
+steamer to San Francisco via New Zealand and Honolulu. Once in America
+and he would be quite safe, and as he now had plenty of money he could
+enjoy himself there. He had given up the idea of marrying Madame Midas,
+as he dare not run the risk of remaining in Australia, but then there
+were plenty of heiresses in the States he could marry if he chose, so to
+give her up was a small matter. Another thing, he would be rid of Pierre
+Lemaire, for once let him put the ocean between him and the dumb man he
+would take care they never met again. Altogether, M. Vandeloup had taken
+all precautions to secure his own safety with his usual promptitude and
+coolness, but notwithstanding that another twelve hours would see him on
+his way to Sydney en route for the States, he felt slightly uneasy, for
+as he often said, ‘There are always possibilities.’
+
+It was about eight o’clock at night, and Gaston was busy in his rooms
+packing up to go away next morning. He had disposed of his apartments to
+Bellthorp, as that young gentleman had lately come in for some money and
+was dissatisfied with the paternal roof, where he was kept too strictly
+tied up.
+
+Vandeloup, seated in his shirt sleeves in the midst of a chaos of
+articles of clothing, portmanteaux, and boxes, was, with the experience
+of an accomplished traveller, rapidly putting these all away in the most
+expeditious and neatest manner. He wanted to get finished before ten
+o’clock, so that he could go down to his club and show himself, in order
+to obviate any suspicion as to his going away. He did not intend to send
+out any P.P.C. cards, as he was a modest young man and wanted to slip
+unostentatiously out of the country; besides, there was nothing like
+precaution, as the least intimation of his approaching departure would
+certainly put Dr Gollipeck on the alert and cause trouble. The gas was
+lighted, there was a bright glare through all the room, and everything
+was in confusion, with M. Vandeloup seated in the centre, like Marius
+amid the ruins of Carthage. While thus engaged there came a ring at the
+outer door, and shortly afterwards Gaston’s landlady entered his room
+with a card.
+
+‘A gentleman wants to see you, sir,’ she said, holding out the card.
+
+‘I’m not at home,’ replied Vandeloup, coolly, removing the cigarette he
+was smoking from his mouth; ‘I can’t see anyone tonight.’
+
+‘He says you’d like to see him, sir,’ answered the woman, standing at
+the door.
+
+‘The deuce he does,’ muttered Vandeloup, uneasily; ‘I wonder what this
+pertinacious gentleman’s name is? and he glanced at the card, whereon
+was written ‘Dr Gollipeck’.
+
+Vandeloup felt a chill running through him as he rose to his feet. The
+battle was about to begin, and he knew he would need all his wit and
+skill to get himself out safely. Dr Gollipeck had thrown down the
+gauntlet, and he would have to pick it up. Well, it was best to know
+the worst at once, so he told the landlady he would see Gollipeck
+downstairs. He did not want him to come up there, as he would see all
+the evidences of his intention to leave the country.
+
+‘I’ll see him downstairs,’ he said, sharply, to the landlady; ‘ask the
+gentleman to wait.’
+
+The landlady, however, was pushed roughly to one side, and Dr Gollipeck,
+rusty and dingy-looking as ever, entered the room.
+
+‘No need, my dear friend,’ he said in his grating voice, blinking at the
+young man through his spectacles, ‘we can talk here.’
+
+Vandeloup signed to the landlady to leave the room, which she did,
+closing the door after her, and then, pulling himself together with a
+great effort, he advanced smilingly on the doctor.
+
+‘Ah, my dear Monsieur,’ he said, in his musical voice, holding out both
+hands, ‘how pleased I am to see you.’
+
+Dr Gollipeck gurgled pleasantly in his throat at this and laughed, that
+is, something apparently went wrong in his inside and a rasping noise
+came out of his mouth.
+
+‘You clever young man,’ he said, affectionately, to Gaston, as he
+unwound a long crimson woollen scarf from his throat, and thereby caused
+a button to fly off his waistcoat with the exertion. Dr Gollipeck,
+however, being used to these little eccentricities of his toilet, pinned
+the waistcoat together, and then, sitting down, spread his red bandanna
+handkerchief over his knees, and stared steadily at Vandeloup, who had
+put on a loose velvet smoking coat, and, with a cigarette in his mouth,
+was leaning against the mantelpiece. It was raining outside, and the
+pleasant patter of the raindrops was quite audible in the stillness of
+the room, while every now and then a gust of wind would make the windows
+rattle, and shake the heavy green curtains. The two men eyed one another
+keenly, for they both knew they had an unpleasant quarter of an hour
+before them, and were like two clever fencers--both watching their
+opportunity to begin the combat. Gollipeck, with his greasy coat, all
+rucked up behind his neck, and his frayed shirt cuffs coming down on his
+ungainly hands, sat sternly silent, so Vandeloup, after contemplating
+him for a few moments, had to begin the battle.
+
+‘My room is untidy, is it not?’ he said, nodding his head carelessly at
+the chaos of furniture. ‘I’m going away for a few days.’
+
+‘A few days; ha, ha!’ observed Gollipeck, something again going wrong
+with his inside. ‘Your destination is--’
+
+‘Sydney,’ replied Gaston, promptly.
+
+‘And then?’ queried the doctor.
+
+Gaston shrugged his shoulders.
+
+‘Depends upon circumstances,’ he answered, lazily.
+
+‘That’s a mistake,’ retorted Gollipeck, leaning forward; ‘it depends
+upon me.’
+
+Vandeloup smiled.
+
+‘In that case, circumstances, as represented by you, will permit me to
+choose my own destinations.’
+
+‘Depends entirely upon your being guided by circumstances, as
+represented by me,’ retorted the Doctor, grimly.
+
+‘Pshaw!’ said the Frenchman, coolly, ‘let us have done with allegory,
+and come to common sense. What do you want?’
+
+‘I want Octave Braulard,’ said Gollipeck, rising to his feet.
+
+Vandeloup quite expected this, and was too clever to waste time in
+denying his identity.
+
+‘He stands before you,’ he answered, curtly, ‘what then?’
+
+‘You acknowledge, then, that you are Octave Braulard, transported to New
+Caledonia for the murder of Adele Blondet?’ said the Doctor tapping the
+table with one hand.
+
+‘To you--yes,’ answered Vandeloup, crossing to the door and locking it;
+‘to others--no.’
+
+‘Why do you lock the door?’ asked Gollipeck, gruffly.
+
+‘I don’t want my private affairs all over Melbourne,’ retorted Gaston,
+smoothly, returning to his position in front of the fireplace; ‘are you
+afraid?’
+
+Something again went wrong with Dr Gollipeck’s inside, and he grated out
+a hard ironical laugh.
+
+‘Do I look afraid?’ he asked, spreading out his hands.
+
+Vandeloup stooped down to the portmanteau lying open at his feet, and
+picked up a revolver, which he pointed straight at Gollipeck.
+
+‘You make an excellent target,’ he observed, quickly, putting his finger
+on the trigger.
+
+Dr Gollipeck sat down, and arranged his handkerchief once more over his
+knees.
+
+‘Very likely,’ he answered, coolly, ‘but a target you won’t practise
+on.’
+
+‘Why not?’ asked Vandeloup, still keeping his finger on the trigger.
+
+‘Because the pistol-shot would alarm the house,’ said Gollipeck,
+serenely, ‘and if I was found dead, you would be arrested for my murder.
+If I was only wounded I could tell a few facts about M. Octave Braulard
+that would have an unpleasant influence on the life of M. Gaston
+Vandeloup.’
+
+Vandeloup laid the pistol down on the mantelpiece with a laugh, lit a
+cigarette, and, sitting down in a chair opposite Gollipeck, began to
+talk.
+
+‘You are a brave man,’ he said, coolly blowing a wreath of smoke, ‘I
+admire brave men.’
+
+‘You are a clever man,’ retorted the doctor; ‘I admire clever men.’
+
+‘Very good,’ said Vandeloup, crossing one leg over the other. ‘As we now
+understand one another, I await your explanation of this visit.’
+
+Dr Gollipeck, with admirable composure, placed his hands on his knees,
+and acceded to the request of M. Vandeloup.
+
+‘I saw in the Ballarat and Melbourne newspapers,’ he said, quietly,
+‘that Selina Sprotts, the servant of Mrs Villiers, was dead. The papers
+said foul play was suspected, and according to the evidence of Kitty
+Marchurst, whom, by the way, I remember very well, the deceased had been
+poisoned. An examination was made of the body, but no traces of
+poison were found. Knowing you were acquainted with Madame Midas, and
+recognising this case as a peculiar one--seeing that poison was asserted
+to have been given, and yet no appearances could be found--I came down
+to Melbourne, saw the doctor who had analysed the body, and heard what
+he had to say on the subject. The symptoms were described as apoplexy,
+similar to those of a woman who died in Paris called Adele Blondet, and
+whose case was reported in a book by Messrs Prevol and Lebrun. Becoming
+suspicious, I assisted at a chemical analysis of the body, and found
+that the woman Sprotts had been poisoned by an extract of hemlock, the
+same poison used in the case of Adele Blondet. The man who poisoned
+Adele Blondet was sent to New Caledonia, escaped from there, and came to
+Australia, and prepared this poison at Ballarat; and why I called here
+tonight was to know the reason M. Octave Braulard, better known as
+Gaston Vandeloup, poisoned Selina Sprotts in mistake for Madame Midas.’
+
+If Doctor Gollipeck had thought to upset Vandeloup by this recital, he
+was never more mistaken in his life, for that young gentleman heard him
+coolly to the end, and taking the cigarette out of his mouth, smiled
+quietly.
+
+‘In the first place,’ he said, smoothly, ‘I acknowledge the truth of
+all your story except the latter part, and I must compliment you on the
+admirable way you have guessed the identity of Braulard with Vandeloup,
+as you have no proof to show that they are the same. But with regard
+to the death of Mademoiselle Sprotts, she died as you have said; but I,
+though the maker of the poison, did not administer it.’
+
+‘Who did, then?’ asked Gollipeck, who was quite prepared for this
+denial.
+
+Vandeloup smoothed his moustache, and looked at the doctor with a keen
+glance.
+
+‘Kitty Marchurst,’ he said, coolly.
+
+The rain was beating wildly against the windows and someone in the room
+below was playing the eternal waltz, ‘One summer’s night in Munich’,
+while Vandeloup, leaning back in his chair, stared at Dr Gollipeck, who
+looked at him disbelievingly.
+
+‘It’s not true,’ he said, harshly; ‘what reason had she to poison the
+woman Sprotts?’
+
+‘None at all,’ replied Vandeloup, blandly; ‘but she had to poison Mrs
+Villiers.’
+
+‘Go on,’ said Gollipeck, gruffly; ‘I’ve no doubt you will make up an
+admirable story.’
+
+‘So kind of you to compliment me,’ observed Vandeloup, lightly; ‘but
+in this instance I happen to tell the truth--Kitty Marchurst was my
+mistress.’
+
+‘It was you that ruined her, then?’ cried Gollipeck, pushing back his
+chair.
+
+Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.
+
+‘If you put it that way--yes,’ he answered, simply; ‘but she fell into
+my mouth like ripe fruit. Surely,’ with a sneer, ‘at your age you don’t
+believe in virtue?’
+
+‘Yes, I do,’ retorted Gollipeck, fiercely.
+
+‘More fool you!’ replied Gaston, with a libertine look on his handsome
+face. ‘Balzac never said a truer word than that “a woman’s virtue is
+man’s greatest invention.” Well, we won’t discuss morality now. She came
+with me to Melbourne and lived as my mistress; then she wanted to marry
+me, and I refused. She had a bottle of the poison which I had made, and
+threatened to take it and kill herself. I prevented her, and then she
+left me, went on the stage, and afterwards meeting Madame Midas, went
+to live with her, and we renewed our acquaintance. On the night of
+this--well, murder, if you like to call it so--we were at a ball
+together. Mademoiselle Marchurst heard that I was going to marry Madame
+Midas. She asked me if it was true. I did not deny it; and she said she
+would sooner poison Mrs Villiers than see her married to me. She went
+home, and not knowing the dead woman was in bed with Madame Midas,
+poisoned the drink, and the consequences you know. As to this story of
+the hand, bah! it is a stage play, that is all!’
+
+Dr Gollipeck rose and walked to and fro in the little clear space left
+among the disorder.
+
+‘What a devil you are!’ he said, looking at Vandeloup admiringly.
+
+‘What, because I did not poison this woman?’ he said, in a mocking tone.
+‘Bah! you are less moral than I thought you were.’
+
+The doctor did not take any notice of this sneer, but, putting his hands
+in his pockets, faced round to the young man.
+
+‘I give my evidence to-morrow,’ he said quietly, looking keenly at the
+young man, ‘and I prove conclusively the woman was poisoned. To do this,
+I must refer to the case of Adele Blondet, and then that implicates
+you.’
+
+‘Pardon me,’ observed Vandeloup, coolly, removing some ash from his
+velvet coat, ‘it implicates Octave Braulard, who is at present,’ with a
+sharp look at Gollipeck, ‘in New Caledonia.’
+
+‘If that is the case,’ asked the doctor, gruffly, ‘who are you?’
+
+‘I am the friend of Braulard,’ said Vandeloup, in a measured tone.
+‘Myself, Braulard, and Prevol--one of the writers of the book you refer
+to--were medical students together, and we all three emphatically knew
+about this poison extracted from hemlock.’
+
+He spoke so quietly that Gollipeck looked at him in a puzzled manner,
+not understanding his meaning.
+
+‘You mean Braulard and Prevol were medical students?’ he said,
+doubtfully.
+
+‘Exactly,’ assented M. Vandeloup, with an airy wave of his hand. ‘Gaston
+Vandeloup is a fictitious third person I have called into existence
+for my own safety--you understand. As Gaston Vandeloup, a friend of
+Braulard, I knew all about this poison, and manufactured it in Ballarat
+for a mere experiment, and as Gaston Vandeloup I give evidence against
+the woman who was my mistress on the ground of poisoning Selina Sprotts
+with hemlock.’
+
+‘You are not shielding yourself behind this girl?’ asked the doctor,
+coming close to him.
+
+‘How could I?’ replied Vandeloup, slipping his hand into his pocket.
+‘I could not have gone down to St Kilda, climbed over a wall with glass
+bottles on top, and committed the crime, as Kitty Marchurst says it was
+done. If I had done this there would be some trace--no, I assure you
+Mademoiselle Marchurst, and none other, is the guilty woman.
+She was in the room--Madame Midas asleep in bed. What was
+easier for her than to pour the poison into the glass, which
+stood ready to receive it? Mind you, I don’t say she did it
+deliberately--impulse--hallucination--madness--what you like--but she
+did it.’
+
+‘By God!’ cried Gollipeck, warmly, ‘you’d argue a rope round the girl’s
+neck even before she has had a trial. I believe you did it yourself.’
+
+‘If I did,’ retorted Vandeloup, coolly, ‘when I am in the witness-box I
+run the risk of being found out. Be it so. I take my chance of that; but
+I ask you to keep silent as to Gaston Vandeloup being Octave Braulard.’
+
+‘Why should I?’ said the doctor, harshly.
+
+‘For many admirable reasons,’ replied Vandeloup, smoothly. ‘In the first
+place, as Braulard’s friend, I can prove the case against Mademoiselle
+Marchurst quite as well as if I appeared as Braulard himself. In the
+next place, you have no evidence to prove I am identical with the
+murderer of Adele Blondet; and, lastly, suppose you did prove it, what
+satisfaction would it be to you to send me back to a French prison? I
+have suffered enough for my crime, and now I am rich and respectable,
+why should you drag me back to the depths again? Read “Les Miserables”
+ of our great Hugo before you answer, my friend.’
+
+‘Read the book long ago,’ retorted Gollipeck, gruffly, more moved by the
+argument than he cared to show; ‘I will keep silent about this if you
+leave the colony at once.’
+
+‘I agree,’ said Vandeloup, pointing to the floor; ‘you see I had already
+decided to travel before you entered. Any other stipulation?’
+
+‘None,’ retorted the doctor, putting on his scarf again; ‘with Octave
+Braulard I have nothing to do: I want to find out who killed Selina
+Sprotts, and if you did, I won’t spare you.’
+
+‘First, catch your hare,’ replied Vandeloup, smoothly, going to the door
+and unlocking it; ‘I am ready to stand the test of a trial, and surely
+that ought to content you. As it is, I’ll stay in Melbourne long enough
+to give you the satisfaction of hanging this woman for the murder, and
+then I will go to America.’
+
+Dr Gollipeck was disgusted at the smooth brutality of this man, and
+moved hastily to the door.
+
+‘Will you not have a glass of wine?’ asked Vandeloup, stopping him.
+
+‘Wine with you?’ said the doctor, harshly, looking him up and down; ‘no,
+it would choke me,’ and he hurried away.
+
+‘I wish it would,’ observed M. Vandeloup, pleasantly, as he reentered
+the room, ‘whew! this devil of a doctor--what a dangerous fool, but
+I have got the better of him, and at all events,’ he said, lighting
+another cigarette, ‘I have saved Vandeloup from suffering for the crime
+of Braulard.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
+
+
+There was no doubt the Sprotts’ poisoning case was the sensation of the
+day in Melbourne. The papers were full of it, and some even went so far
+as to give a plan of the house, with dotted lines thereon, to show
+how the crime was committed. All this was extremely amusing, for, as a
+matter of fact, the evidence as yet had not shown any reasonable ground
+for supposing foul play had taken place. One paper, indeed, said
+that far too much was assumed in the case, and that the report of the
+Government analyst should be waited for before such emphatic opinions
+were given by the press regarding the mode of death. But it was no use
+trying to reason with the public, they had got it into their sage heads
+that a crime had been committed, and demanded evidence; so as the
+press had no real evidence to give, they made it up, and the public, in
+private conversations, amplified the evidence until they constructed a
+complete criminal case.
+
+‘Pshaw!’ said Rolleston, when he read these sensational reports, ‘in
+spite of the quidnuncs the mountain will only produce a mouse after
+all.’
+
+But he was wrong, for now rumours were started that the Government
+analyst and Dr Gollipeck had found poison in the stomach, and that,
+moreover, the real criminal would be soon discovered. Public opinion was
+much divided as to who the criminal was--some, having heard the story
+of Madame’s marriage, said it was her husband; others insisted Kitty
+Marchurst was the culprit, and was trying to shield herself behind this
+wild story of the hand coming from behind the curtains; while others
+were in favour of suicide. At all events, on the morning when the
+inquest was resumed, and the evidence was to be given of the analysis
+of the stomach, the Court was crowded, and a dead silence pervaded the
+place when the Government analyst stood up to give his evidence. Madame
+Midas was present, with Kitty seated beside her, the latter looking pale
+and ill; and Kilsip, with a gratified smile on his face which seemed
+as though he had got a clue to the whole mystery, was seated next
+to Calton. Vandeloup, faultlessly dressed, and as cool and calm as
+possible, was also in Court; and Dr Gollipeck, as he awaited his turn to
+give evidence, could not help admiring the marvellous nerve and courage
+of the young man.
+
+The Government analyst being called, was sworn in the usual way, and
+deposed that the stomach of the deceased had been sent to him to be
+analysed. He had used the usual tests, and found the presence of the
+alkaloid of hemlock, known under the name of conia. In his opinion the
+death of the deceased was caused by the administration of an extract of
+hemlock. (Sensation in the Court.)
+
+Q. Then in your opinion the deceased has been poisoned?
+
+A. Yes, I have not the least doubt on the subject, I detected the conia
+very soon after the tests were applied.
+
+There was great excitement when this evidence was concluded, as it gave
+quite a new interest to the case. The question as to the cause of death
+was now set at rest--the deceased had been murdered, so the burning
+anxiety of every one was to know who had committed the crime. All
+sorts of opinions were given, but the murmur of voices ceased when Dr
+Gollipeck stood up to give his evidence.
+
+He deposed that he was a medical practitioner, practising at Ballarat;
+he had seen the report of the case in the papers, and had come down
+to Melbourne as he thought he could throw a certain light on the
+affair--for instance, where the poison was procured. (Sensation.) About
+three years ago a crime had been committed in Paris, which caused a
+great sensation at the time. The case being a peculiar one, was reported
+in a medical work, by Messieurs Prevol and Lebrun, which he had obtained
+from France some two years back. The facts of the case were shortly
+these: An actress called Adele Blondet died from the effects of poison,
+administered to her by Octave Braulard, who was her lover; the deceased
+had also another lover, called Kestrike, who was supposed to be
+implicated in the crime, but he had escaped; the woman in this case had
+been poisoned by an extract of hemlock, the same poison used as in the
+case of Selina Sprotts, and it was the similarity of the symptoms that
+made him suspicious of the sudden death. Braulard was sent out to New
+Caledonia for the murder. While in Paris he had been a medical student
+with two other gentlemen, one of whom was Monsieur Prevol, who had
+reported the case, and the other was at present in Court, and was called
+M. Gaston Vandeloup. (Sensation in Court, everyone’s eye being fixed on
+Vandeloup, who was calm and unmoved.) M. Vandeloup had manufactured the
+poison used in this case, but with regard to how it was administered to
+the deceased, he would leave that evidence to M. Vandeloup himself.
+
+When Gollipeck left the witness-box there was a dead silence, as
+everyone was too much excited at his strange story to make any comment
+thereon. Madame Midas looked with some astonishment on Vandeloup as his
+name was called out, and he moved gracefully to the witness-box, while
+Kitty’s face grew paler even than it was before. She did not know what
+Vandeloup was going to say, but a great dread seized her, and with dry
+lips and clenched hands she sat staring at him as if paralysed. Kilsip
+stole a look at her and then rubbed his hands together, while Calton sat
+absolutely still, scribbling figures on his notepaper.
+
+M. Gaston Vandeloup, being sworn, deposed: He was a native of France, of
+Flemish descent, as could be seen from his name; he had known Braulard
+intimately; he also knew Prevol; he had been eighteen months in
+Australia, and for some time had been clerk to Mrs Villiers at Ballarat;
+he was fond of chemistry--yes; and had made several experiments
+with poisons while up at Ballarat with Dr Gollipeck, who was a great
+toxicologist; he had seen the hemlock in the garden of an hotel-keeper
+at Ballarat, called Twexby, and had made an extract therefrom; he only
+did it by way of experiment, and had put the bottle containing the
+poison in his desk, forgetting all about it; the next time he saw that
+bottle was in the possession of Miss Kitty Marchurst (sensation in
+Court); she had threatened to poison herself; he again saw the bottle in
+her possession on the night of the murder; this was at the house of M.
+Meddlechip. A report had been circulated that he (the witness) was going
+to marry Mrs Villiers, and Miss Marchurst asked him if it was true;
+he had denied it, and Miss Marchurst had said that sooner than he
+(the witness) should marry Mrs Villiers she would poison her; the next
+morning he heard that Selina Sprotts was dead.
+
+Kitty Marchurst heard all this evidence in dumb horror. She now knew
+that after ruining her life this man wanted her to die a felon’s death.
+She arose to her feet and stretched out her hands in protest against
+him, but before she could speak a word the place seemed to whirl
+round her, and she fell down in a dead faint. This event caused great
+excitement in court, and many began to assert positively that she must
+be guilty, else why did she faint. Kitty was taken out of Court, and
+the examination was proceeded with, while Madame Midas sat pale and
+horror-struck at the revelations which were now being made.
+
+The Coroner now proceeded to cross-examine Vandeloup.
+
+Q. You say you put the bottle containing this poison into your desk; how
+did Miss Marchurst obtain it?
+
+A. Because she lived with me for some time, and had access to my private
+papers.
+
+Q. Was she your wife?
+
+A. No, my mistress (sensation in Court).
+
+Q. Why did she leave you?
+
+A. We had a difference of opinion about the question of marriage, so she
+left me.
+
+Q. She wanted you to make reparation; in other words, to marry her?
+
+A. Yes.
+
+Q. And you refused?
+
+A. Yes.
+
+Q. It was on this occasion she produced the poison first?
+
+A. Yes. She told me she had taken it from my desk, and would poison
+herself if I did not marry her; she changed her mind, however, and went
+away.
+
+Q. Did you know what became of her?
+
+A. Yes; I heard she went on the stage with M. Wopples.
+
+Q. Did she take the poison with her?
+
+A. Yes.
+
+Q. How do you know she took the poison with her?
+
+A. Because next time I saw her it was still in her possession.
+
+Q. That was at Mr Meddlechip’s ball?
+
+A. Yes.
+
+Q. On the night of the commission of the crime?
+
+A. Yes.
+
+Q. What made her take it to the ball?
+
+A. Rather a difficult question to answer. She heard rumours that I was
+to marry Mrs Villiers, and even though I denied it declined to believe
+me; she then produced the poison, and said she would take it.
+
+Q. Where did this conversation take place?
+
+A. In the conservatory.
+
+Q. What did you do when she threatened to take the poison?
+
+A. I tried to take it from her.
+
+Q. Did you succeed?
+
+A. No; she threw it out of the door.
+
+Q. Then when she left Mr Meddlechip’s house to come home she had no
+poison with her?
+
+A. I don’t think so.
+
+Q. Did she pick the bottle up again after she threw it out?
+
+A. No, because I went back to the ball-room with her; then I came out
+myself to look for the bottle, but it was gone.
+
+Q. You have never seen it since.
+
+A. No, it must have been picked up by someone who was ignorant of its
+contents.
+
+Q. By your own showing, M. Vandeloup, Miss Marchurst had no poison with
+her when she left Mr Meddlechip’s house. How, then, could she commit
+this crime?
+
+A. She told me she still had some poison left; that she divided the
+contents of the bottle she had taken from my desk, and that she still
+had enough left at home to poison Mrs Villiers.
+
+Q. Did she say she would poison Mrs Villiers?
+
+A. Yes, sooner than see her married to me. (Sensation.)
+
+Q. Do you believe she went away from you with the deliberate intention
+of committing the crime.
+
+A. I do.
+
+M. Vandeloup then left the box amid great excitement, and Kilsip was
+again examined. He deposed that he had searched Miss Marchurst’s room,
+and found half a bottle of extract of hemlock. The contents of the
+bottle had been analysed, and were found identical with the conia
+discovered in the stomach of the deceased.
+
+Q. You say the bottle was half empty?
+
+A. Rather more than that: three-quarters empty.
+
+Q. Miss Marchurst told M. Vandeloup she had poured half the contents of
+one bottle into the other. Would not this account for the bottle being
+three-quarters empty?
+
+A. Possibly; but if the first bottle was full, it is probable she would
+halve the poison exactly; so if it had been untouched, it ought to be
+half full.
+
+Q. Then you think some of the contents of this bottle were used?
+
+A. That is my opinion.
+
+Vandeloup was recalled, and deposed that the bottle Kitty took from his
+desk was quite full; and moreover, when the other bottle which had been
+found in her room, was shown to him, he declared that it was as nearly
+as possible the same size as the missing bottle. So the inference drawn
+from this was that the bottle produced being three-quarters empty, some
+of the poison had been used.
+
+The question now arose that as the guilt of Miss Marchurst seemed so
+certain, how was it that Selina Sprotts was poisoned instead of her
+mistress; but this was settled by Madame Midas, who being recalled,
+deposed that Kitty did not know Selina slept with her on that night, and
+the curtains being drawn, could not possibly tell two people were in the
+bed.
+
+This was all the evidence obtainable, and the coroner now proceeded to
+sum up.
+
+The case, he said, was a most remarkable one, and it would be necessary
+for the jury to consider very gravely all the evidence laid before them
+in order to arrive at a proper conclusion before giving their verdict.
+In the first place, it had been clearly proved by the Government analyst
+that the deceased had died from effects of conia, which was, as they had
+been told, the alkaloid of hemlock, a well-known hedge plant which grows
+abundantly in most parts of Great Britain. According to the evidence of
+Dr Chinston, the deceased had died from serous apoplexy, and from all
+the post-mortem appearances this was the case. But they must remember
+that it was almost impossible to detect certain vegetable poisons, such
+as aconite and atropia, without minute chemical analysis. They would
+remember a case which startled London some years ago, in which the
+poisoner had poisoned his brother-in-law by means of aconite, and it
+taxed all the ingenuity and cleverness of experts to find the traces of
+poison in the stomach of the deceased. In this case, however, thanks to
+Dr Gollipeck, who had seen the similarity of the symptoms between the
+post-mortem appearance of the stomach of Adele Blondet and the present
+case, the usual tests for conia were applied, and as they had been told
+by the Government analyst, the result was conia was found. So they could
+be quite certain that the deceased had died of poison--that poison
+being conia. The next thing for them to consider was how the poison was
+administered. According to the evidence of Miss Marchurst, some unknown
+person had been standing outside the window and poured the poison into
+the glass on the table. Mrs Villiers had stated that the window was open
+all night, and from the position of the table near it--nothing would
+be easier than for anyone to introduce the poison into the glass as
+asserted by Miss Marchurst. On the other hand, the evidence of the
+detective Kilsip went to show that no marks were visible as to anyone
+having been at the window; and another thing which rendered Miss
+Marchurst’s story doubtful was the resemblance it had to a drama in
+which she had frequently acted, called ‘The Hidden Hand’. In the last
+act of that drama poison was administered to one of the characters
+in precisely the same manner, and though of course such a thing might
+happen in real life, still in this case it was a highly suspicious
+circumstance that a woman like Miss Marchurst, who had frequently acted
+in the drama, should see the same thing actually occur off the stage.
+Rejecting, then, as improbable the story of the hidden hand, seeing that
+the evidence was strongly against it, the next thing was to look into
+Miss Marchurst’s past life and see if she had any motive for committing
+the crime. Before doing so, however, he would point out to them that
+Miss Marchurst was the only person in the room when the crime was
+committed. The window in her own room and one of the windows in Mrs
+Villiers’ room were both locked, and the open window had a table in
+front of it, so that anyone entering would very probably knock it over,
+and thus awaken the sleepers. On the other hand, no one could have
+entered in at the door, because they would not have had time to escape
+before the crime was discovered. So it was clearly shown that Miss
+Marchurst must have been alone in the room when the crime was committed.
+Now to look into her past life--it was certainly not a very creditable
+one. M. Vandeloup had sworn that she had been his mistress for over
+a year, and had taken the poison manufactured by himself out of his
+private desk. Regarding M. Vandeloup’s motives in preparing such a
+poison he could say nothing. Of course, he probably did it by way of
+experiment to find out if this colonial grown hemlock possessed the same
+poisonous qualities as it did in the old world. It was a careless thing
+of him, however, to leave it in his desk, where it could be obtained,
+for all such dangerous matters should be kept under lock and key. To
+go back, however, to Miss Marchurst. It had been proved by M. Vandeloup
+that she was his mistress, and that they quarrelled. She produced this
+poison, and said she would kill herself. M. Vandeloup persuaded her to
+abandon the idea, and she subsequently left him, taking the poison with
+her. She then went on the stage, and subsequently left it in order to
+live with Mrs Villiers as her companion. All this time she still had the
+poison, and in order to prevent her losing it she put half of it into
+another bottle. Now this looked very suspicious, as, if she had not
+intended to use it she certainly would never have taken such trouble
+over preserving it. She meets M. Vandeloup at a ball, and, hearing that
+he is going to marry Mrs Villiers, she loses her head completely, and
+threatens to poison herself. M. Vandeloup tries to wrench the poison
+from her, whereupon she flings it into the garden. This bottle has
+disappeared, and the presumption is that it was picked up. But if the
+jury had any idea that the poison was administered from the lost bottle,
+they might as well dismiss it from their minds, as it was absurd to
+suppose such an improbable thing could happen. In the first place no one
+but M. Vandeloup and Miss Marchurst knew what the contents were, and
+in the second place what motive could anyone who picked it up have in
+poisoning Mrs Villiers, and why should they adopt such an extraordinary
+way of doing it, as Miss Marchurst asserted they did? On the other hand,
+Miss Marchurst tells M. Vandeloup that she still has some poison left,
+and that she will kill Mrs Villiers sooner than see her married to him.
+She declares to M. Vandeloup that she will kill her, and leaves the
+house to go home with, apparently, all the intention of doing so. She
+comes home filled with all the furious rage of a jealous woman, and
+enters Mrs Villiers’ room, and here the jury will recall the evidence of
+Mrs Villiers, who said Miss Marchurst did not know that the deceased
+was sleeping with her. So when Miss Marchurst entered the room, she
+naturally thought that Mrs Villiers was by herself, and would, as a
+matter of course, refrain from drawing the curtains and looking into the
+bed, in case she should awaken her proposed victim. There was a glass
+with drink on the table; she was alone with Mrs Villiers, her heart
+filled with jealous rage against a woman she thinks is her rival. Her
+own room is a few steps away--what, then, was easier for her than to go
+to her own room, obtain the poison, and put it into the glass? The
+jury will remember in the evidence of Mr Kilsip, the bottle was
+three-quarters empty, which argued some of it had been used. All the
+evidence against Miss Marchurst was purely circumstantial, for if
+she committed the crime, no human eye beheld her doing so. But the
+presumption of her having done so, in order to get rid of a successful
+rival, was very strong, and the weight of evidence was dead against her.
+The jury would, therefore, deliver their verdict in accordance with the
+facts laid before them.
+
+The jury retired, and the court was very much excited. Everyone was
+quite certain that Kitty was guilty, but there was a strong feeling
+against M. Vandeloup as having been in some measure the cause, though
+indirectly, of the crime. But that young gentleman, in accordance with
+his usual foresight, had left the court and gone straight home, as he
+had no wish to face a crowd of sullen faces, and perhaps worse. Madame
+Midas sat still in the court awaiting the return of the jury, with the
+calm face of a marble sphinx. But, though she suffered, no appearances
+of suffering were seen on her serene face. She never had believed in
+human nature, and now the girl whom she had rescued from comparative
+poverty and placed in opulence had wanted to kill her. M. Vandeloup,
+whom she admired and trusted, what black infamy he was guilty of--he had
+sworn most solemnly he never harmed Kitty, and yet he was the man who
+had ruined her. Madame Midas felt that the worst had come--Vandeloup
+false, Kitty a murderess, her husband vanished, and Selina dead. All the
+world was falling into ruins around her, and she remained alone amid
+the ruins with her enormous fortune, like a golden statue in a deserted
+temple. With clasped hands, aching heart, but impassive face, she sat
+waiting for the end.
+
+The jury returned in about half an hour, and there was a dead silence as
+the foreman stood up to deliver the verdict.
+
+The jury found as follows:--
+
+That the deceased, Selina Jane Sprotts, died on the 21st day of
+November, from the effects of poison, namely, conia, feloniously
+administered by one Katherine Marchurst, and the jury, on their oaths,
+say that the said Katherine Marchurst feloniously, wilfully, and
+maliciously did murder the said deceased.
+
+That evening Kitty was arrested and lodged in the Melbourne Gaol, to
+await her trial on a charge of wilful murder.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+KISMET
+
+
+Of two evils it is always best to choose the least, and as M. Vandeloup
+had to choose between the loss of his popularity or his liberty, he
+chose to lose the former instead of the latter. After all, as he argued
+to himself, Australia at large is a small portion of the world, and
+in America no one would know anything about his little escapade in
+connection with Kitty. He knew that he was in Gollipeck’s power, and
+that unless he acceded to that gentleman’s demand as to giving evidence
+he would be denounced to the authorities as an escaped convict from New
+Caledonia, and would be sent back there. Of course, his evidence could
+not but prove detrimental to himself, seeing how badly he had behaved to
+Kitty, but still as going through the ordeal meant liberty, he did so,
+and the result was as he had foreseen. Men, as a rule, are not very
+squeamish, and view each other’s failings, especially towards women,
+with a lenient eye, but Vandeloup had gone too far, and the Bachelors’
+Club unanimously characterised his conduct as ‘damned shady’, so a
+letter was sent requesting M. Vandeloup to take his name off the books
+of the club. He immediately resigned, and wrote a polite letter to the
+secretary, which brought uneasy blushes to the cheek of that gentleman
+by its stinging remarks about his and his fellow clubmen’s morality. He
+showed it to several of the members, but as they all had their little
+redeeming vices, they determined to take no notice, and so M. Vandeloup
+was left alone. Another thing which happened was that he was socially
+ostracised from society, and his table, which used to be piled up with
+invitations, soon became quite bare. Of course, he knew he could force
+Meddlechip to recognise him, but he did not choose to do so, as all his
+thoughts were fixed on America. He had plenty of money, and with a
+new name and a brand new character, Vandeloup thought he would prosper
+exceedingly well in the States. So he stayed at home, not caring to
+face the stony faces of friends who cut him, and waited for the trial
+of Kitty Marchurst, after which he intended to leave for Sydney at once,
+and take the next steamer to San Francisco. He did not mind waiting, but
+amused himself reading, smoking, and playing, and was quite independent
+of Melbourne society. Only two things worried him, and the first of
+these was the annoyance of Pierre Lemaire, who seemed to have divined
+his intention of going away, and haunted him day and night like an
+unquiet spirit. Whenever Vandeloup looked out, he saw the dumb man
+watching the house, and if he went for a walk, Pierre would slouch
+sullenly along behind him, as he had done in the early days. Vandeloup
+could have called in the aid of a policeman to rid himself of this
+annoyance, but the fact was he was afraid of offending Pierre, as he
+might be tempted to reveal what he knew, and the result would not be
+pleasant. So Gaston bore patiently with the disagreeable system of
+espionage the dumb man kept over him, and consoled himself with the idea
+that once he was on his way to America, it would not matter two straws
+whether Pierre told all he knew, or kept silent. The other thing which
+troubled the young man were the words Kitty had made use of in Mrs
+Villiers’ drawing-room regarding the secret she said she knew. It made
+him uneasy, for he half guessed what it was, and thought she might tell
+it to someone out of revenge, and then there would be more troubles for
+him to get out of. Then, again, he argued that she was too fond of him
+ever to tell anything likely to injure him, even though he had put
+a rope round her neck. If he could have settled the whole affair
+by running away, he would have done so, but Gollipeck was still in
+Melbourne, and Gaston knew he could not leave the town without the
+terrible old man finding it out, and bringing him back. At last the
+torture of wondering how much Kitty knew was too much for him, and he
+determined to go to the Melbourne gaol and interview her. So he obtained
+an order from the authorities to see her, and prepared to start next
+morning. He sent the servant out for a hansom, and by the time it was at
+the door, M. Vandeloup, cool, calm, and well dressed, came down stairs
+pulling on his gloves. The first thing he saw when he got outside was
+Pierre waiting for him with his old hat pulled down over his eyes, and
+his look of sullen resignation. Gaston nodded coolly to him, and told
+the cabby he wanted to go to the Melbourne gaol, whereupon Pierre
+slouched forward as the young man was preparing to enter the cab, and
+laid his hand on his arm.
+
+‘Well,’ said Vandeloup, in a quiet voice, in French, shaking off the
+dumb man’s arm, ‘what do you want?’
+
+Pierre pointed to the cab, whereupon M. Vandeloup shrugged his
+shoulders. ‘Surely you don’t want to come to the gaol with me,’ he said,
+mockingly, ‘you’ll get there soon enough.’
+
+The other nodded, and made a step towards the cab, but Vandeloup pushed
+him back.
+
+‘Curse the fool,’ he muttered to himself, ‘I’ll have to humour him or
+he’ll be making a scene--you can’t come,’ he added aloud, but Pierre
+still refused to go away.
+
+This conversation or rather monologue, seeing M. Vandeloup was the only
+speaker, was carried on in French, so the cabman and the servant at the
+door were quite ignorant of its purport, but looked rather astonished
+at the conduct of the dirty tramp towards such an elegant-looking
+gentleman. Vandeloup saw this and therefore determined to end the scene.
+
+‘Well, well,’ he said to Pierre in French, ‘get in at once,’ and
+then when the dumb man entered the cab, he explained to the cabman in
+English:--‘This poor devil is a pensioner of mine, and as he wants to
+see a friend of his in gaol I’ll take him with me.’
+
+He stepped into the cab which drove off, the cabman rather astonished
+at the whole affair, but none the less contented himself with merely
+winking at the pretty servant girl who stood on the steps, whereupon she
+tossed her head and went inside.
+
+As they drove along Vandeloup said nothing to Pierre, not that he did
+not want to, but he mistrusted the trap-door in the roof of the cab,
+which would permit the cabman to overhear everything. So they went along
+in silence, and when they arrived at the gaol Vandeloup told the cabman
+to wait for him, and walked towards the gaol.
+
+‘You are coming inside, I suppose,’ he said, sharply, to Pierre, who
+still slouched alongside.
+
+The dumb man nodded sullenly.
+
+Vandeloup cursed Pierre in his innermost heart, but smiled blandly and
+agreed to let him enter with him. There was some difficulty with the
+warder at the door, as the permission to see the prisoner was only made
+out in the name of M. Vandeloup, but after some considerable trouble
+they succeeded in getting in.
+
+‘My faith!’ observed Gaston, lightly, as they went along to the cell,
+conducted by a warder, ‘it’s almost as hard to get into gaol as to get
+out of it.’
+
+The warder admitted them both to Kitty’s cell, and left them alone with
+her. She was seated on the bed in the corner of the cell, in an attitude
+of deepest dejection. When they entered she looked up in a mechanical
+sort of manner, and Vandeloup could see how worn and pinched-looking her
+face was. Pierre went to one end of the cell and leaned against the wall
+in an indifferent manner, while Vandeloup stood right in front of
+the unhappy woman. Kitty arose when she saw him, and an expression of
+loathing passed over her haggard-looking face.
+
+‘Ah!’ she said, bitterly, rejecting Vandeloup’s preferred hand, ‘so you
+have come to see your work; well, look around at these bare walls;
+see how thin and ugly I have grown; think of the crime with which I am
+charged, and surely even Gaston Vandeloup will be satisfied.’
+
+The young man sneered.
+
+‘Still as good at acting as ever, I see,’ he said, mockingly; ‘cannot
+you even see a friend without going into these heroics?’
+
+‘Why have you come here?’ she asked, drawing herself up to her full
+height.
+
+‘Because I am your friend,’ he answered, coolly.
+
+‘My friend!’ she echoed, scornfully, looking at him with contempt; ‘you
+ruined my life a year ago, now you have endeavoured to fasten the guilt
+of murder on me, and yet you call yourself my friend; a good story,
+truly,’ with a bitter laugh.
+
+‘I could not help giving the evidence I did,’ replied Gaston, coolly,
+shrugging his shoulders; ‘if you are innocent, what I say will not
+matter.’
+
+‘If I am innocent!’ she said, looking at him steadily; ‘you villain, you
+know I am innocent!’
+
+‘I know nothing of the sort.’
+
+Then you believe I committed the crime?’
+
+‘I do.’
+
+Kitty sat helplessly down on the bed, and passed her hand across her
+eyes.
+
+‘My God!’ she muttered, ‘I am going mad.’
+
+‘Not at all unlikely,’ he replied, carelessly.
+
+She looked vacantly round the cell, and caught sight of Pierre shrinking
+back into the shadow.
+
+‘Why did you bring your accomplice with you?’ she said, looking at
+Gaston.
+
+M. Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.
+
+‘Really, my dear Bebe,’ he said, lazily, ‘I don’t know why you should
+call him my accomplice, as I have committed no crime.’
+
+‘Have you not?’ she said, rising to her feet, and bending towards him,
+‘think again.’
+
+Vandeloup shook his head, with a smile.
+
+‘No, I do not think I have,’ he answered, glancing keenly at her; ‘I
+suppose you want me to be as black as yourself?’
+
+‘You coward!’ she said, in a rage, turning on him, ‘how dare you
+taunt me in this manner? it is not enough that you have ruined me, and
+imperilled my life, without jeering at me thus, you coward?’
+
+‘Bah!’ retorted Vandeloup, cynically, brushing some dust off his coat,
+‘this is not the point; you insinuate that I committed a crime, perhaps
+you will tell me what kind of a crime?’
+
+‘Murder,’ she replied, in a whisper.
+
+‘Oh, indeed,’ sneered Gaston, coolly, though his lips twitched a little,
+‘the same style of crime as your own? and whose murder am I guilty of,
+pray?’
+
+‘Randolph Villiers.’
+
+Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.
+
+‘Who can prove it?’ he asked, contemptuously.
+
+‘I can!’
+
+‘You,’ with a sneer, ‘a murderess?’
+
+‘Who can prove I am a murderess?’ she cried, wildly.
+
+‘I can,’ he answered, with an ugly look; ‘and I will if you don’t keep a
+quiet tongue.’
+
+‘I will keep quiet no longer,’ boldly rising and facing Vandeloup, with
+her hands clenched at her sides; ‘I have tried to shield you faithfully
+through all your wickedness, but now that you accuse me of committing
+a crime, which accusation you know is false, I accuse you, Gaston
+Vandeloup, and your accomplice, yonder,’ wheeling round and pointing to
+Pierre, who shrank away, ‘of murdering Randolph Villiers, at the Black
+Hill, Ballarat, for the sake of a nugget of gold he carried.’
+
+Vandeloup looked at her disdainfully.
+
+‘You are mad,’ he said, in a cold voice; ‘this is the raving of a
+lunatic; there is no proof of what you say; it was proved conclusively
+that myself and Pierre were asleep at our hotel while M. Villiers was
+with Jarper at two o’clock in the morning.’
+
+‘I know that was proved,’ she retorted, ‘and by some jugglery on your
+part; but, nevertheless, I saw you and him,’ pointing again to Pierre,
+‘murder Villiers.’
+
+‘You saw it,’ echoed Vandeloup, with a disbelieving smile; ‘tell me
+how?’
+
+‘Ah!’ she cried, making a step forward, ‘you do not believe me, but
+I tell you it is true--yes, I know now who the two men were following
+Madame Midas as she drove away: one was her husband, who wished to rob
+her, and the other was Pierre, who, acting upon your instructions,
+was to get the gold from Villiers should he succeed in getting it from
+Madame. You left me a few minutes afterwards, but I, with my heart full
+of love--wretched woman that I was--followed you at a short distance,
+unwilling to lose sight of you even for a little time. I climbed down
+among the rocks and saw you seat yourself in a narrow part of the path.
+Curiosity then took the place of love, and I watched to see what you
+were going to do. Pierre--that wretch who cowers in the corner--came
+down the path and you spoke to him in French. What was said I did
+not know, but I guessed enough to know you meditated some crime. Then
+Villiers came down the path with the nugget in its box under his arm.
+I recognised the box as the one which Madame Midas had brought to our
+house. When Villiers came opposite you you spoke to him; he tried to
+pass on, and then Pierre sprang out from behind the rock and the two men
+struggled together, while you seized the box containing the gold, which
+Villiers had let fall, and watched the struggle. You saw that Villiers,
+animated by despair, was gradually gaining the victory over Pierre, and
+then you stepped in--yes; I saw you snatch Pierre’s knife from the back
+of his waist and stab Villiers in the back. Then you put the knife into
+Pierre’s hand, all bloody, as Villiers fell dead, and I fled away.’
+
+She stopped, breathless with her recital, and Vandeloup, pale but
+composed, would have answered her, when a cry from Pierre startled them.
+He had come close to them, and was looking straight at Kitty.
+
+‘My God!’ he cried; ‘then I am innocent?’
+
+‘You!’ shrieked Kitty, falling back on her bed; ‘who are you?’
+
+The man pulled his hat off and came a step nearer.
+
+‘I am Randolph Villiers!’
+
+Kitty shrieked again and covered her face with her hands, while
+Vandeloup laughed in a mocking manner, though his pale face and
+quivering lip told that his mirth was assumed.
+
+‘Yes,’ said Villiers, throwing his hat on the floor of the cell, ‘it was
+Pierre Lemaire, and not I, who died. The struggle took place as you have
+described, but he,’ pointing to Vandeloup, ‘wishing to get rid of Pierre
+for reasons of his own stabbed him, and not me, in the back. He thrust
+the knife into my hand, and I, in my blind fury, thought that I had
+murdered the dumb man. I was afraid of being arrested for the murder,
+so, as suggested by Vandeloup, I changed clothes with the dead man and
+wrapped my own up in a bundle. We hid the body and the nugget in one of
+the old mining shafts and then came down to Ballarat. I was similar to
+Pierre in appearance, except that my chin was shaven. I went down to the
+Wattle Tree Hotel as Pierre after leaving my clothes outside the window
+of the bedroom which Vandeloup pointed out to me. Then he went to
+the theatre and told me to rejoin him there as Villiers. I got my own
+clothes into the room, dressed again as myself; then, locking the door,
+so that the people of the hotel might suppose that Pierre slept, I
+jumped out of the window of the bedroom and went to the theatre. There
+I played my part as you know, and while we were behind the scenes Mr
+Wopples asked me to put out the gas in his room. I did so, and took from
+his dressing-table a black beard, in order to disguise myself as Pierre
+till my beard had grown. We went to supper, and then I parted with
+Jarper at two o’clock in the morning, and went back to the hotel, where
+I climbed into the bedroom through the window and reassumed Pierre’s
+dress for ever. It was by Vandeloup’s advice I pretended to be drunk, as
+I could not go to the Pactolus, where my wife would have recognised me.
+Then I, as the supposed Pierre, was discharged, as you know. Vandeloup,
+aping friendship, drew the dead man’s salary and bought clothes and
+a box for me. In the middle of one night I still disguised as Pierre,
+slipped out of the window, and went up to Black Hill, where I found the
+nugget and brought it down to my room at the Wattle Tree Hotel. Then
+Vandeloup brought in the box with my clothes, and we packed the nugget
+in it, together with the suit I had worn at the time of the murder.
+Following his instructions, I came down to Melbourne, and there disposed
+of the nugget--no need to ask how, as there are always people ready to
+do things of that sort for payment. When I was paid for the nugget, and
+I only got eight hundred pounds, the man who melted it down taking the
+rest, I had to give six hundred to Vandeloup, as I was in his power as
+I thought, and dare not refuse in case he should denounce me for the
+murder of Pierre Lemaire. And now I find that I have been innocent all
+the time, and he has been frightening me with a shadow. He, not I, was
+the murderer of Pierre Lemaire, and you can prove it.’
+
+During all this recital, which Kitty listened to with staring eyes,
+Vandeloup had stood quite still, revolving in his own mind how he
+could escape from the position in which he found himself. When Villiers
+finished his recital he raised his head and looked defiantly at both his
+victims.
+
+‘Fate has placed the game in your hands,’ he said coolly, while they
+stood and looked at him; ‘but I’m not beaten yet, my friend. May I ask
+what you intend to do?’
+
+‘Prove my innocence,’ said Villiers, boldly.
+
+‘Indeed!’ sneered Gaston, ‘at my expense, I presume.’
+
+‘Yes! I will denounce you as the murderer of Pierre Lemaire.’
+
+‘And I,’ said Kitty, quickly, ‘will prove Villiers’ innocence.’
+
+Vandeloup turned on her with all the lithe, cruel grace of a tiger.
+
+‘First you must prove your own innocence,’ he said, in a low, fierce
+voice. ‘Yes; if you can hang me for the murder of Pierre Lemaire, I can
+hang you for the murder of Selina Sprotts; yes, though I know you did
+not do it.’
+
+‘Ah!’ said Kitty, quickly, springing forward, ‘you know who committed
+the crime.’
+
+‘Yes,’ replied Vandeloup, slowly, ‘the man who committed the crime
+intended to murder Madame Midas, and he was the man who hated her and
+wished her dead--her husband.’
+
+‘I?’ cried Villiers, starting forward, ‘you lie.’
+
+Vandeloup wheeled round quickly on him, and, getting close to him, spoke
+rapidly.
+
+‘No, I do not lie,’ he said, in a concentrated voice of anger; ‘you
+followed me up to the house of M. Meddlechip, and hid among the trees
+on the lawn to watch the house; you saw Bebe throw the bottle out, and
+picked it up; then you went to St Kilda and, climbing over the wall,
+committed the crime, as she,’ pointing to Kitty, ‘saw you do; I met
+you in the street near the house after you had committed it, and see,’
+plunging his hand into Villiers’ pocket, ‘here is the bottle which
+contained the poison,’ and he held up to Kitty the bottle with the two
+red bands round it, which she had thrown away.
+
+‘It is false!’ cried Villiers, in despair, seeing that all the evidence
+was against him.
+
+‘Prove it, then,’ retorted Vandeloup, knocking at the door to summon the
+warder. ‘Save your own neck before you put mine in danger.’
+
+The door opened, and the warder appeared. Kitty and Villiers gazed
+horror-struck at one another, while Vandeloup, without another word,
+rapidly left the cell. The warder beckoned to Villiers to come, and,
+with a deep sigh, he obeyed.
+
+‘Where are you going?’ asked Kitty, as he moved towards the door.
+
+‘Going?’ he repeated, mechanically. ‘I am going to see my wife.’
+
+He left the cell, and when he got outside the gaol he saw the hansom
+with Vandeloup in it driving rapidly away. Villiers looked at the
+retreating vehicle in despair. ‘My God,’ he murmured, raising his face
+to the blue sky with a frightful expression of despair; ‘how am I to
+escape the clutches of this devil?’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+BE SURE THY SIN WILL FIND THEE OUT
+
+
+Madame Midas was a remarkably plucky woman, but it needed all her pluck
+and philosophy to bear up against the terrible calamities which were
+befalling her. Her faith in human nature was completely destroyed, and
+she knew that all the pleasure of doing good had gone out of her life.
+The discovery of Kitty’s baseness had wounded her deeply, and she found
+it difficult to persuade herself that the girl had not been the victim
+of circumstances. If Kitty had only trusted her when she came to live
+with her all this misery and crime would have been avoided, for she
+would have known Madame Midas would never have married Vandeloup,
+and thus would have had no motive for committing the crime. Regarding
+Vandeloup’s pretensions to her hand, Mrs Villiers laughed bitterly to
+herself. After the misery of her early marriage it was not likely she
+was going to trust herself and her second fortune again to a man’s
+honour. She sighed as she thought what her future life must be. She was
+wealthy, it was true, but amid all her riches she would never be able to
+know the meaning of friendship, for all who came near her now would have
+some motive in doing so, and though Madame Midas was anxious to do
+good with her wealth, yet she knew she could never expect gratitude in
+return. The comedy of human life is admirable when one is a spectator;
+but ah! the actors know they are acting, and have to mask their faces
+with smiles, restrain the tears which they would fain let flow, and
+mouth witty sayings with breaking hearts. Surely the most bitter of
+all feelings is that cynical disbelief in human nature which is so
+characteristic of our latest civilization.
+
+Madame Midas, however, now that Melbourne was so hateful to her,
+determined to leave it, and sent up to Mr Calton in order to confer with
+him on the subject. Calton came down to St Kilda, and was shown into the
+drawing-room where Mrs Villiers, calm and impenetrable looking as ever,
+sat writing letters. She arose as the barrister entered, and gave him
+her hand.
+
+‘It was kind of you to come so quickly,’ she said, in her usual quiet,
+self-contained manner; ‘I wish to consult you on some matters of
+importance.’
+
+‘I am at your service, Madame,’ replied Calton, taking a seat, and
+looking keenly at the marble face before him; ‘I am glad to see you
+looking so well, considering what you have gone through.’
+
+Mrs Villiers let a shadowy smile flit across her face.
+
+‘They say the Red Indian becomes utterly indifferent to the torture of
+his enemies after a certain time,’ she answered, coldly; ‘I think it is
+the same with me. I have been deceived and disillusionized so completely
+that I have grown utterly callous, and nothing now can move me either to
+sorrow or joy.’
+
+‘A curious answer from a curious woman,’ thought Calton, glancing at
+her as she sat at the writing-table in her black dress with the knots of
+violet ribbons upon it; ‘what queer creatures experience makes us.’
+
+Madame Midas folded her hands loosely on the table, and looked dreamily
+out of the open French window, and at the trellis covered with creeping
+plants beyond, through which the sun was entering in pencils of golden
+light. Life would have been so sweet to her if she had only been content
+to be deceived like other people; but then she was not of that kind.
+Faith with her was a religion, and when religion is taken away, what
+remains?--nothing.
+
+‘I am going to England,’ she said, abruptly, to Calton, rousing herself
+out of these painful reflections.
+
+‘After the trial, I presume?’ observed Calton, slowly.
+
+‘Yes,’ she answered, hesitatingly; ‘do you think they will--they
+will--hang the girl?’
+
+Calton shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can’t tell you,’ he answered, with
+a half smile; ‘if she is found guilty--well--I think she will be
+imprisoned for life.’
+
+‘Poor Kitty,’ said Madame, sadly, ‘it was an evil hour when you met
+Vandeloup. What do you think of him?’ she asked, suddenly.
+
+‘He’s a scoundrel,’ returned Calton, decisively; ‘still, a clever one,
+with a genius for intrigue; he should have lived in the times of Borgian
+Rome, where his talents would have been appreciated; now we have lost
+the art of polite murder.’
+
+‘Do you know,’ said Mrs Villiers, musingly, leaning back in her chair,
+‘I cannot help thinking Kitty is innocent of this crime.’
+
+‘She may be,’ returned Calton, ambiguously, ‘but the evidence seems very
+strong against her.’
+
+‘Purely circumstantial,’ interrupted Madame Midas, quickly.
+
+‘Purely circumstantial, as you say,’ assented Calton; ‘still, some
+new facts may be discovered before the trial which may prove her to be
+innocent. After the mystery which enveloped the death of Oliver Whyte
+in the hansom cab murder I hesitate giving a decided answer, in any case
+till everything has been thoroughly sifted; but, if not Kitty Marchurst,
+whom do you suspect--Vandeloup?’
+
+‘No; he wanted to marry me, not to kill me.’
+
+‘Have you any enemy, then, who would do such a thing?’
+
+‘Yes; my husband.’
+
+‘But he is dead.’
+
+‘He disappeared,’ corrected Madame, ‘but it was never proved that he was
+dead. He was a revengeful, wicked man, and if he could have killed me,
+without hurting himself, he would,’ and rising from her seat she paced
+up and down the room slowly.
+
+‘I know your sad story,’ said the barrister, ‘and also how your husband
+disappeared; but, to my mind, looking at all the circumstances, you will
+not be troubled with him again.’
+
+A sudden exclamation made him turn his head, and he saw Madame Midas,
+white as death, staring at the open French window, on the threshold of
+which was standing a man--medium height, black beard, and a haggard,
+hunted look in his eyes.
+
+‘Who is this?’ cried Calton, rising to his feet.
+
+Madame Midas tottered, and caught at the mantelpiece for support.
+
+‘My husband,’ she said, in a whisper.
+
+‘Alive?’ said Calton, turning to the man at the window.
+
+‘I should rather think so,’ said Villiers, insolently, advancing into
+the room; ‘I don’t look like a dead man, do I?’
+
+Madame Midas sprang forward and caught his wrist.
+
+‘So you have come back, murderer!’ she hissed in his ear.
+
+‘What do you mean?’ said her husband, wrenching his hand away.
+
+‘Mean?’ she cried, vehemently; ‘you know what I mean. You cut yourself
+off entirely from me by your attempt on my life, and the theft of the
+gold; you dare not have showed yourself in case you received the reward
+of your crime; and so you worked in the dark against me. I knew you were
+near, though I did not see you; and you for a second time attempted my
+life.’
+
+‘I did not,’ muttered Villiers, shrinking back from the indignant blaze
+of her eyes. ‘I can prove--’
+
+‘You can prove,’ she burst out, contemptuously, drawing herself up to
+her full height, ‘Yes! you can prove anything with your cowardly nature
+and lying tongue; but prove that you were not the man who came in the
+dead of night and poisoned the drink waiting for me, which was taken by
+my nurse. You can prove--yes, as God is my judge, you shall prove it, in
+the prisoner’s dock, e’er you go to the gallows.’
+
+During all this terrible speech, Villiers had crouched on the ground,
+half terrified, while his wife towered over him, magnificent in her
+anger. At the end, however, he recovered himself a little, and began to
+bluster.
+
+‘Every man has a right to a hearing,’ he said, defiantly, looking from
+his wife to Calton; ‘I can explain everything.’
+
+Madame Midas pointed to a chair.
+
+‘I have no doubt you will prove black is white by your lying,’ she said,
+coldly, returning to her seat; ‘I await this explanation.’
+
+Thereupon Villiers sat down and told them the whole story of his
+mysterious disappearance, and how he had been made a fool of by
+Vandeloup. When he had ended, Calton, who had resumed his seat, and
+listened to the recital with deep interest, stole a glance at Madame
+Midas, but she looked as cold and impenetrable as ever.
+
+‘I understand, now, the reason of your disappearance,’ she said, coldly;
+‘but that is not the point. I want to know the reason you tried to
+murder me a second time.’
+
+‘I did not,’ returned Villiers, quietly, with a gesture of dissent.
+
+‘Then Selina Sprotts, since you are so particular,’ retorted his wife,
+with a sneer; ‘but it was you who committed the crime.’
+
+‘Who says I did?’ cried Villiers, standing up.
+
+‘No one,’ put in Calton, looking at him sharply, ‘but as you had a
+grudge against your wife, it is natural for her to suspect you, at the
+same time it is not necessary for you to criminate yourself.’
+
+‘I am not going to do so,’ retorted Villiers; ‘if you think I’d be such
+a fool as to commit a crime and then trust myself to my wife’s tender
+mercies, you are very much mistaken. I am as innocent of the murder as
+the poor girl who is in prison.’
+
+‘Then she is not guilty?’ cried Mrs Villiers, rising.
+
+‘No,’ returned Villiers, coldly, ‘she is innocent.’
+
+‘Oh, indeed,’ said Calton, quietly; ‘then if you both are innocent, who
+is the guilty person?’
+
+Villiers was about to speak when another man entered the open window.
+This was none other than Kilsip, who advanced eagerly to Villiers.
+
+‘He has come in at the gate,’ he said, quickly.
+
+‘Have you the warrant,’ asked Villiers, as a sharp ring was heard at the
+front door.
+
+Kilsip nodded, and Villiers turned on his wife and Calton, who were too
+much astonished to speak.
+
+‘You asked me who committed the crime,’ he said, in a state of
+suppressed excitement; ‘look at that door,’ pointing to the door which
+led into the hall, ‘and you will see the real murderer of Selina Sprotts
+appear.’
+
+Calton and Madame Midas turned simultaneously, and the seconds seemed
+like hours as they waited with bated breath for the opening of the
+fatal door. The same name was on their lips as they gazed with intense
+expectation, and that name was--Gaston Vandeloup.
+
+The noise of approaching footsteps, a rattle at the handle of the door,
+and it was flung wide open as the servant announced--
+
+‘Mr Jarper.’
+
+Yes, there he stood, meek, apologetic, and smiling--the fast-living
+bank-clerk, the darling of society, and the secret assassin--Mr
+Bartholomew Jarper.
+
+He advanced smilingly into the room, when suddenly the smile died away,
+and his face blanched as his eyes rested on Villiers. He made a step
+backward as if to fly, but in a moment Kilsip was on him.
+
+‘I arrest you in the Queen’s name for the murder of Selina Sprotts,’ and
+he slipped the handcuffs on his wrists.
+
+The wretched young man fell down on the floor with an agonised shriek.
+
+‘It’s a lie--it’s a lie,’ he howled, beating his manacled hands on the
+carpet, ‘none can prove I did it.’
+
+‘What about Vandeloup?’ said Villiers, looking at the writhing figure at
+his feet, ‘and this proof?’ holding out the bottle with the red bands.
+
+Jarper looked up with an expression of abject fear on his white face,
+then with a shriek fell back again in a swoon.
+
+Kilsip went to the window and a policeman appeared in answer to his
+call, then between them they lifted up the miserable wretch and took him
+to a cab which was waiting, and were soon driving off up to the station,
+from whence Jarper was taken to the Melbourne gaol.
+
+Calton turned to Madame Midas and saw that she also had fainted and was
+lying on the floor. He summoned the servants to attend to her, then,
+making Villiers come with him, he went up to his office in town in order
+to get the whole story of the discovery of the murderer.
+
+The papers were full of it next day, and Villiers’ statement, together
+with Jarper’s confession, were published side by side. It appeared that
+Jarper had been living very much above his income, and in order to get
+money he had forged Mrs Villiers’ name for several large amounts. Afraid
+of being discovered, he was going to throw himself on her mercy and
+confess all, which he would have done had Madame Midas come to the
+Meddlechip’s ball. But overhearing the conversation between Kitty and
+Vandeloup in the conservatory, and seeing the bottle flung out, he
+thought if he secured it he could poison Madame Midas without suspicion
+and throw the guilt upon Kitty. He secured the bottle immediately after
+Vandeloup took Kitty back to the ball-room, and then went down to St
+Kilda to commit the crime. He knew the house thoroughly as he had often
+been in it, and saw that the window of Madame’s room was open. He then
+put his overcoat on the glass bottles on top of the wall and leapt
+inside, clearing the bushes. He stole across the lawn and stepped over
+the flower-bed, carefully avoiding making any marks. He had the bottle
+of poison with him, but was apparently quite ignorant how he was to
+introduce it into the house, but on looking through the parting of the
+curtains he saw the glass with the drink on the table. Guessing that
+Madame Midas was in bed and would probably drink during the night, he
+put his hand through the curtains and poured all the poison into the
+glass, then noiselessly withdrew. He jumped over the wall again, put on
+his overcoat, and thought he was safe, when he found M. Vandeloup was
+watching him and had seen him in all his actions. Vandeloup, whose
+subtle brain immediately saw that if Madame Midas was dead he could
+throw the blame on Kitty and thus get rid of her without endangering
+himself, agreed to keep silent, but made Jarper give up the bottle
+to him. When Jarper had gone Vandeloup, a few yards further down, met
+Villiers, but supposed that he had just come on the scene. Villiers,
+however, had been watching the house all night, and had also been
+watching Meddlechip’s. The reason for this was he thought his wife was
+at the ball, and wanted to speak to her. He had followed Kitty and
+Mrs Riller down to St Kilda by hanging on to the back of the brougham,
+thinking the latter was his wife. Finding his mistake, he hung round the
+house for about an hour without any object, and was turning round the
+corner to go home when he saw Jarper jump over the wall, and, being
+unseen in the shadow, overheard the conversation and knew that Jarper
+had committed the crime. He did not, however, dare to accuse Jarper of
+murder, as he thought it was in Vandeloup’s power to denounce him as the
+assassin of Pierre Lemaire, so for his own safety kept quiet. When he
+heard the truth from Kitty in the prison he would have denounced the
+Frenchman at once as the real criminal, but was so bewildered by
+the rapid manner in which Vandeloup made up a case against him, and
+especially by the bottle being produced out of his pocket--which bottle
+Vandeloup, of course, had in his hand all the time--that he permitted
+him to escape. When he left the gaol, however, he went straight to the
+police-office and told his story, when a warrant was immediately granted
+for the arrest of Jarper. Kilsip took the warrant and went down to St
+Kilda to Mrs Villiers’ house to see her before arresting Jarper; but,
+as before described, Jarper came down to the house on business from the
+bank and was arrested at once.
+
+Of course, there was great excitement over the discovery of the real
+murderer, especially as Jarper was so well known in Melbourne society,
+but no one pitied him. In the days of his prosperity he had been
+obsequious to his superiors and insolent to those beneath him, so
+that all he gained was the contempt of one and the hate of the other.
+Luckily, he had no relatives whom his crime would have disgraced, and as
+he had not succeeded in getting rid of Madame Midas, he intended to have
+run away to South America, and had forged a cheque in her name for a
+large amount in order to supply himself with funds. Unhappily, however,
+he had paid that fatal visit and had been arrested, and since then had
+been in a state of abject fear, begging and praying that his life might
+be spared. His crime, however, had awakened such indignation that the
+law was allowed to take its course, so early one wet cold morning
+Barty Jarper was delivered into the hands of the hangman, and his mean,
+pitiful little soul was launched into eternity.
+
+Kitty was of course released, but overwhelmed with shame and agony at
+all her past life having been laid bare, she did not go to see Madame
+Midas, but disappeared amid the crowd, and tried to hide her infamy from
+all, although, poor girl, she was more sinned against than sinning.
+
+Vandeloup, for whom a warrant was out for the murder of Lemaire, had
+also disappeared, and was supposed to have gone to America.
+
+Madame Midas suffered severely from the shocks she had undergone with
+the discovery of everyone’s baseness. She settled a certain income on
+her husband, on condition she never was to see him again, which offer he
+readily accepted, and having arranged all her affairs in Australia,
+she left for England, hoping to find in travel some alleviation, if not
+forgetfulness, of the sorrow of the past. A good woman--a noble woman,
+yet one who went forth into the world broken-hearted and friendless,
+with no belief in anyone and no pleasure in life. She, however, was of
+too fine a nature ever to sink into the base, cynical indifference of a
+misanthropic life, and the wealth which she possessed was nobly used
+by her to alleviate the horrors of poverty and to help those who needed
+help. Like Midas, the Greek King, from whence her quaint name was
+derived, she had turned everything she touched into gold, and though it
+brought her no happiness, yet it was the cause of happiness to others;
+but she would give all her wealth could she but once more regain that
+trust in human nature which had been so cruelly betrayed.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+THE WAGES OF SIN
+
+
+Such a hot night as it was--not a breath of wind, and the moon, full
+orbed, dull and yellow, hangs like a lamp in the dark blue sky. Low
+down on the horizon are great masses of rain clouds, ragged and
+angry-looking, and the whole firmament seems to weigh down on the still
+earth, where everything is burnt and parched, the foliage of the trees
+hanging limp and heavily, and the grass, yellow and sere, mingling with
+the hot, white dust of the roads. Absolute stillness everywhere down
+here by the Yarra Yarra, not even the river making a noise as it sweeps
+swiftly down on its winding course between its low mud banks. No bark of
+a dog or human voice breaks the stillness; not even the sighing of the
+wind through the trees. And throughout all this unearthly silence a
+nervous vitality predominates, for the air is full of electricity, and
+the subtle force is permeating the whole scene. A long trail of silver
+light lies on the dark surface of the river rolling along, and here and
+there the current swirls into sombre, cruel-looking pools--or froths,
+and foams in lines of dirty white around the trunks of spectral-looking
+gum trees, which stretch out their white, scarred branches over the
+waters.
+
+Just a little way below the bridge which leads to the Botanical Gardens,
+on the near side of the river, stands an old, dilapidated bathing-house,
+with its long row of dressing-rooms, doorless and damp-looking. A broad,
+irregular wooden platform is in front of these, and slopes gradually
+down to the bank, from whence narrow, crazy-looking steps, stretching
+the whole length of the platform, go down beneath the sullen waters. And
+all this covered with black mould and green slime, with whole armies of
+spiders weaving grey, dusky webs in odd corners, and a broken-down fence
+on the left half buried in bush rank grass--an evil-looking place even
+in the daytime, and ten times more evil-looking and uncanny under the
+light of the moon, which fills it with vague shadows. The rough,
+slimy platform is deserted, and nothing is heard but the squeaking and
+scampering of the water-rats, and every now and then the gurgling of
+the river as it races past, as if it was laughing quietly in a ghastly
+manner over the victims it had drowned.
+
+Suddenly a black shadow comes gliding along the narrow path by the
+river bank, and pauses a moment at the entrance to the platform. Then it
+listens for a few minutes, and again hurries down to the crazy-looking
+steps. The black shadow standing there, like the genius of solitude, is
+a woman, and she has apparently come to add herself to the list of the
+cruel-looking river’s victims. Standing there, with one hand on the
+rough rail, and staring with fascinated eyes on the dull muddy water,
+she does not hear a step behind her. The shadow of a man, who has
+apparently followed her, glides from behind the bathing-shed, and
+stealing down to the woman on the verge of the stream, lays a delicate
+white hand on her shoulder. She turns with a startled cry, and Kitty
+Marchurst and Gaston Vandeloup are looking into one another’s eyes.
+Kitty’s charming face is worn and pallid, and the hand which clutches
+her shawl is trembling nervously as she gazes at her old lover. There
+he stands, dressed in old black clothes, worn and tattered looking, with
+his fair auburn hair all tangled and matted; his chin covered with
+a short stubbly beard of some weeks’ growth, and his face gaunt and
+haggard-looking--the very same appearance as he had when he landed in
+Australia. Then he sought to preserve his liberty; now he is seeking to
+preserve his life. They gaze at one another in a fascinated manner for
+a few moments, and then Gaston removes his hand from the girl’s shoulder
+with a sardonic laugh, and she buries her face in her hands with a
+stifled sob.
+
+‘So this is the end,’ he said, pointing to the river, and fixing his
+scintillating eyes on the girl; ‘this is the end of our lives; for you
+the river--for me the hangman.’
+
+‘God help me,’ she moaned, piteously; ‘what else is left to me but the
+river?’
+
+‘Hope,’ he said, in a low voice; ‘you are young; you are beautiful; you
+can yet enjoy life; but,’ in a deliberate cruel manner, ‘you will not,
+for the river claims you as its victim.’
+
+Something in his voice fills her with fear, and looking up she reads
+death in his face, and sinking on her knees she holds out her helpless
+hands with a pitying cry for life.
+
+‘Strange,’ observed M. Vandeloup, with a touch of his old airy manner;
+‘you come to commit suicide and are not afraid; I wish to save you the
+trouble, and you are, my dear--you are illogical.’
+
+‘No! no!’ she mutters, twisting her hands together, ‘I do not want to
+die; why do you wish to kill me?’ lifting her wan face to his.
+
+He bent down, and caught her wrist fiercely.
+
+‘You ask me that?’ he said, in a voice of concentrated passion, ‘you
+who, with your long tongue, have put the hangman’s rope round my throat;
+but for you, I would, by this time, have been on my way to America,
+where freedom and wealth awaits me. I have worked hard, and committed
+crimes for money, and now, when I should enjoy it, you, with your
+feminine devilry, have dragged me back to the depths.’
+
+‘I did not make you commit the crimes,’ she said, piteously.
+
+‘Bah!’ with a scoffing laugh, ‘who said you did? I take my own sins on
+my own shoulders; but you did worse; you betrayed me. Yes; there is a
+warrant out for my arrest, for the murder of that accursed Pierre. I
+have eluded the clever Melbourne police so far, but I have lived the
+life of a dog. I dare not even ask for food, lest I betray myself. I am
+starving! I tell you, starving! you harlot! and it is your work.’
+
+He flung her violently to the ground, and she lay there, a huddled heap
+of clothing, while, with wild gesticulations, he went on.
+
+‘But I will not hang,’ he said, fiercely; ‘Octave Braulard, who escaped
+the guillotine, will not perish by a rope. No; I have found a boat
+going to South America, and to-morrow I go on board of her, to sail to
+Valparaiso; but before I go I settle with you.’
+
+She sprang suddenly to her feet with a look of hate in her eyes.
+
+‘You villain!’ she said, through her clenched teeth, ‘you ruined my
+life, but you shall not murder me!’
+
+He caught her wrist again, but he was weak for want of food, and she
+easily wrenched it away.
+
+‘Stand back!’ she cried, retreating a little.
+
+‘You think to escape me,’ he almost shrieked, all his smooth cynical
+mask falling off; ‘no, you will not; I will throw you into the river. I
+will see you sink to your death. You will cry for help. No one will hear
+you but God and myself. Both of us are merciless. You will die like a
+rat in a hole, and that face you are so proud of will be buried in the
+mud of the river. You devil! your time has come to die.’
+
+He hissed out the last word in a low, sibilant manner, then sprang
+towards her to execute his purpose. They were both standing on the verge
+of the steps, and instinctively Kitty put out her hands to keep him
+off. She struck him on the chest, and then his foot slipped on the green
+slime which covered the steps, and with a cry of baffled rage he fell
+backward into the dull waters, with a heavy splash. The swift current
+gripped him, and before Kitty could utter a sound, she could see him
+rising out in midstream, and being carried rapidly away. He threw up his
+hands with a hoarse cry for help, but, weakened by famine, he could do
+nothing for himself, and sank for the second time. Again he rose, and
+the current swept him near shore, almost within reach of a fallen tree.
+He made a desperate effort to grasp it, but the current, mocking his
+puny efforts, bore him away once again in its giant embrace, and with a
+wild shriek on God he sank to rise no more.
+
+The woman on the bank, with white face and staring eyes, saw the fate
+which he had meant for her meted out to him, and when she saw him sink
+for the last time, she covered her face with her hand and fled rapidly
+away into the shadowy night.
+
+The sun is setting in a sea of blood, and all the west is lurid with
+crimson and barred by long black clouds. A heavy cloud of smoke shot
+with fiery red hangs over the city, and the din of many workings
+sound through the air. Down on the river the ships are floating on the
+blood-stained waters, and all their masts stand up like a forest of
+bare trees against the clear sky. And the river sweeps on red and
+angry-looking under the sunset, with the rank grass and vegetation on
+its shelving banks. Rats are scampering along among the wet stones, and
+then a vagrant dog poking about amid some garbage howls dismally. What
+is that black speck on the crimson waters? The trunk of a tree perhaps;
+no, it is a body, with white face and tangled auburn hair; it is
+floating down with the current. People are passing to and fro on the
+bridge, the clock strikes in the town hall, and the dead body
+drifts slowly down the red stream far into the shadows of the coming
+night--under the bridge, across which the crowd is hurrying, bent on
+pleasure and business, past the tall warehouses where rich merchants are
+counting their gains, under the shadow of the big steamers with their
+tall masts and smoky funnels. Now it is caught in the reeds at the side
+of the stream; no, the current carries it out again, and so down the
+foul river, with the hum of the city on each side and the red sky above,
+drifts the dead body on its way to the sea. The red dies out of the sky,
+the veil of night descends, and under the cold starlight--cold and cruel
+as his own nature--that which was once Gaston Vandeloup floats away into
+the still shadows.
+
+FINIS
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Madame Midas, by Fergus Hume
+
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