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The Childerbridge Mystery
By Guy Boothby,
_Author of_ "_Dr. Nikola_," "_A Millionaire's Love Story_," "_The Curse
of the Snake_," _etc., etc., etc._
London
F. V. White & Co., Ltd.
1902
Contents
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
The Childerbridge Mystery
CHAPTER I
One had only to look at William Standerton in order to realise that he
was, what is usually termed, a success in life. His whole appearance
gave one this impression; the bold unflinching eyes, the square,
resolute chin, the well-moulded lips, and the lofty forehead, showed a
determination and ability to succeed that was beyond the ordinary.
The son of a hardworking country doctor, it had fallen to his lot to
emigrate to Australia at the early age of sixteen. He had not a friend
in that vast, but sparsely-populated, land, and was without influence of
any sort to help him forward. When, therefore, in fifty years' time, he
found himself worth upwards of half-a-million pounds sterling, he was
able to tell himself that he owed his good fortune not only to his own
industry, but also to his shrewd business capabilities. It is true that
he had had the advantage of reaching the Colonies when they were in
their infancy, but even with this fact taken into consideration, his was
certainly a great performance. He had invested his money prudently, and
the rich Stations, and the streets of House Property, were the result.
Above all things, William Standerton was a kindly-natured man. Success
had not spoilt him in this respect. No genuine case of necessity ever
appealed to him in vain. He gave liberally, but discriminatingly, and in
so doing never advertised himself.
Strange to say, he was nearly thirty years of age before he even
contemplated matrimony. The reason for this must be ascribed to the fact
that his life had been essentially an active one, and up to that time he
had not been brought very much into contact with the opposite sex. When,
however, he fell in love with pretty Jane McCalmont--then employed as a
governess on a neighbouring Property--he did so with an enthusiasm that
amply made up for lost time.
She married him, and presented him with two children--a boy and a girl.
Within three months of the latter's arrival into the world, the mother
laid down her gentle life, leaving her husband a well nigh
broken-hearted man. After her death the years passed slowly by with
almost monotonous sameness. The boy James, and the girl Alice, in due
course commenced their education, and in so doing left their childhood
behind them. Their devotion to their father was only equalled by his
love for them. He could scarcely bear them out of his sight, and entered
into all their sports, their joys and troubles, as if he himself were a
child once more.
It was not, however, until James was a tall, handsome young fellow of
four-and-twenty, and Alice a winsome maid of twenty, that he arrived at
the conclusion that his affairs no longer needed his personal
supervision, and that he was at liberty to return to the Mother Country,
and settle down in it, should he feel disposed to do so.
"It's all very well for you young folk to talk of my leaving Australia,"
he said, addressing his son and daughter; "but I shall be like a fish
out of water in the Old Country. You forget that I have not seen her for
half-a-century."
"All the more reason that you should lose no time in returning, father,"
observed Miss Alice, to whom a visit to England had been the one
ambition of her life. "You shall take us about and show us everything;
the little village in which you were born, the river in which you used
to fish, and the wood in which the keeper so nearly caught you with the
rabbit in your pocket. Then you shall buy an old-fashioned country house
and we'll settle down. It will be lovely!"
Her father pinched her shapely little ear, and then looked away across
the garden to where a railed enclosure was to be seen, on the crest of a
slight eminence. He remembered that the woman lying there had more than
once expressed a hope that, in the days then to come, they would be able
to return to their native country together, and take their children with
them.
"Well, well, my dear," he said, glancing down at the daughter who so
much resembled her mother, "you shall have it your own way. We will go
Home as soon as possible, and do just as you propose. I think we may be
able to afford a house in the country, and perhaps, that is if you are a
very dutiful daughter, another in London. It is just possible that there
may be one or two people living who may remember William Standerton,
and, for that reason, be kind to his son and daughter. But I fear it
will be rather a wrench for me to leave these places that I have built
up with my own hands, and to which I have devoted such a large portion
of my life. However, one can be in harness too long, and when once
Australia is left behind me, I have no doubt I shall enjoy my holiday as
much as any one else."
In this manner the matter was settled. Competent and trustworthy
managers were engaged, and the valuable properties, which had
contributed so large a share to William Standerton's wealth, were handed
over to their charge.
On the night before they were to leave Mudrapilla, their favourite and
largest station, situated on the Darling River, in New South Wales,
James Standerton, called Jim by his family and a multifarious collection
of friends, was slowly making his way along the left bank of the River.
He had ridden out to say good-bye to the manager of the Out Station, and
as his horse picked his way along the bank, he was thinking of England,
and of what his life was to be there. Suddenly he became aware of a man
seated beneath a giant gum tree near the water's edge. From the fact
that the individual in question had kindled a fire and was boiling his
billy, he felt justified in assuming that he was preparing his camp for
the night. He accordingly rode up and accosted him. The man was a Foot
Traveller, or Swagman, and presented a somewhat singular appearance.
Though he was seated, Jim could see that he was tall, though sparsely
built. His age must have been about sixty years; his hair was streaked
with grey, as also was his beard. Taken altogether his countenance was
of the description usually described as "hatchet-faced." He was dressed
after the swagman fashion, certainly no better, and perhaps a little
worse. Yet with it all he had the appearance of having once been in
better circumstances. He looked up as Jim approached, and nodded a "good
evening." The latter returned the salutation in his customary pleasant
fashion.
"How much further is it to the Head Station?" the man on the ground then
enquired.
"Between four and five miles," Jim replied. "Are you making your way
there?"
"That's my idea," the stranger answered. "I hear the owner is leaving
for England, and I am desirous of having a few words with him before he
goes."
"You know him then?"
"I've known him over thirty years," returned the other. "But he has gone
up in the world while, as you will gather, I have done the opposite.
Standerton was always one of Life's lucky ones; I am one of Her
failures. Anything _he_ puts his hand to prospers; while I, let it be
ever so promising, have only to touch a bit of business, and it goes to
pieces like a house of cards."
The stranger paused and took stock of the young man seated upon the
horse.
"Now I come to think of it," he continued, after having regarded Jim
intently for some seconds, "you're not unlike Standerton yourself.
You've got the same eyes and chin, and the same cut of mouth."
"It's very probable, for I am his son," Jim replied. "What is it you
want with my father?"
"That's best known to myself," the stranger returned, with a surliness
in his tone that he had not exhibited before. "When you get home, just
tell your governor that Richard Murbridge is on his way up the river to
call upon him, and that he will try to put in an appearance at the
Station early to-morrow morning. I don't fancy he'll be best pleased to
see me, but I must have an interview with him before he leaves
Australia, if I have to follow him round the country to get it."
"You had better be careful how you talk to my father," said Jim. "If you
are as well acquainted with him as you pretend to be, you should know
that he is not the sort of man to be trifled with."
"I know him as well as you do," the other answered, lifting his billy
from the fire as he spoke. "William Standerton and I knew each other
long before you were born. If it's only the distance you say to the Head
Station, you can tell him I'll be there by breakfast time. I'm a bit
foot-sore, it is true, but I can do the journey in an hour and a-half.
On what day does the coach pass, going South?"
"To-morrow morning," Jim replied. "Do you want to catch it?"
"It's very probable I shall," said Murbridge. "Though I wasn't born in
this cursed country, I'm Australian enough never to foot it when I can
ride. Good Heavens! had any one told me, twenty-five years ago, that I
should eventually become a Darling Whaler, I'd have knocked, what I
should have thought then to be the lie, down their throats. But what I
am you can see. Fate again, I suppose? However, I was always of a
hopeful disposition, even when my affairs appeared to be at their worst,
so I'll pin my faith on to-morrow. Must you be going? Well, in that
case, I'll wish you good-night! Don't forget my message to your father."
Jim bade him good-night, and then continued his ride home. As he went he
pondered upon his curious interview with the stranger he had just left,
and while so doing, wondered as to his reasons for desiring to see his
father.
"The fellow was associated with him in business at some time or another,
I suppose?" he said to himself, "and, having failed, is now on his beam
ends and wants assistance. Poor old Governor, there are times when he is
called upon to pay pretty dearly for his success in life."
James Standerton was proud of his father, as he had good reason to be.
He respected him above all living men, and woe betide the individual who
might have anything to say against the sire in the son's hearing.
At last he reached the Home Paddock and cantered up the slope towards
the cluster of houses, that resembled a small village, and surrendered
his horse to a black boy in the stable yard. With a varied collection of
dogs at his heels he made his way up the garden path, beneath the
trellised vines to the house, in the broad verandah of which he could
see his sister and father seated at tea.
"Well, my lad," said Standerton senior, when Jim joined them, "I suppose
you've seen Riddington, and have bade him good-bye. It's my opinion he
will miss you as much as any one in the neighbourhood. You two have
always been such friends."
"That's just what Riddington said," James replied. "He wishes he were
coming with us. Poor chap, he doesn't seem to think he'll ever see
England again."
Alice looked up from the cup of tea she was pouring out for her brother.
"I fancy there is more in poor Mr. Riddington's case than meets the
eye," she said sympathetically. "Nobody knows quite why he left England.
He is always very reticent upon that point. I cannot help thinking,
however, that there was a lady in the case."
"There always is," answered her brother. "There's a woman in every
mystery, and when you've found her it's a mystery no longer. By the way,
father, as I was coming home, I came across a fellow camped up the
river. He asked me what the distance was to here, and said he was on his
way to see you. He will be here the first thing to-morrow morning."
"He wants work, I suppose?"
"No, I shouldn't say that he did," James replied. "He said that he
wanted to see you on important private business."
"Indeed? I wonder who it can be? A swagman who has important private
business with me is a _rara avis_. He didn't happen to tell you his
name, I suppose?"
"Yes, he did," Jim answered, placing his cup on the floor as he spoke.
"His name is Richard Murbridge, or something like it."
The effect upon the elder man was electrical.
"Richard Murbridge?" he cried. "Camped on the river and coming here?"
His son and daughter watched him with the greatest astonishment depicted
upon their faces. It was not often that their father gave way to so much
emotion. At last with an effort he recovered himself, and, remarking
that Murbridge was a man with whom he had had business in bygone days,
and that he had not seen him for many years, went into the house.
"I wonder who this Murbridge can be?" said James to his sister, when
they were alone together. "I didn't like the look of him, and if I were
the Governor, I should send him about his business as quickly as
possible."
When he had thus expressed himself, Jim left his sister and went off to
enjoy that luxury so dear to the heart of a bushman after his day's
work, a swim in the river. He was some time over it, and when he
emerged, he was informed that his presence was required at the Store.
Thither he repaired to arbitrate in the quarrel of two Boundary Riders.
In consequence, more than an hour elapsed before he returned to the
house. His sister greeted him at the gate with a frightened look upon
her face.
"Have you seen father?" she enquired.
"No," he answered. "Isn't he in the house?"
"He went down the track just after you left, riding old Peter, and as he
passed the gate he called to me not to keep dinner for him, as he did
not know how long it might be before he would be back. Jim, I believe he
is gone to see that man you told him of, and the thought frightens me."
"You needn't be alarmed," her brother answered. "Father is quite able to
take care of himself."
But though he spoke with so much assurance, in his own mind he was not
satisfied. He remembered that it had been his impression that the
swagman bore his father a grudge, and the thought made him uneasy.
"Look here, Alice," he said, after he had considered the matter for some
time, "I've a good mind to go back along the track, and to bring the
Governor home with me. What do you think?"
"It would relieve me of a good deal of anxiety if you would," the girl
replied. "I don't like the thought of his going off like this."
Jim accordingly went to the end of the verandah, and called to the
stables for a horse. As soon as the animal was forthcoming he mounted
it, and set off in the direction his father had taken. It was now quite
dark, but so well did he know it, that he could have found his way along
the track blindfolded, if necessary. It ran parallel with the river, the
high trees on the banks of which could be seen, standing out like a
black line against the starlit sky. He let himself out of the Home
Paddock, passed the Woolshed, and eventually found himself approaching
the spot where Murbridge had made his camp. Then the twinkle of the fire
came into view, and a few seconds later he was able to distinguish his
father standing beside his grey horse, talking to a man who was lying
upon the ground near the fire. Not wishing to play the part of an
eavesdropper, he was careful to remain out of earshot. It was only when
he saw the man rise, heard him utter a threat, and then approach his
father, that he rode up. Neither of the men became aware of his approach
until he was close upon them, and then both turned in surprise.
"James, what is the meaning of this?" his father cried. "What are you
doing here, my lad?"
For a moment the other scarcely knew what reply to make. At last he
said:--
"I came to assure myself of your safety, father. Alice told me you had
gone out, and I guessed your errand."
"A very dutiful son," sneered Murbridge. "You are to be congratulated
upon him, William."
James stared at the individual before him with astonishment. What right
had such a man to address his father by his Christian name?
"Be careful," said Standerton, speaking to the man before him. "You know
what I said to you just now, and you are also aware that I never break
my word. Fail to keep _your_ part of the contract, and I shall no longer
keep mine."
"You know that you have your heel upon my neck," the other retorted;
"and also that I cannot help myself. But I pray that the time may come
when I shall be able to be even with you. To think that I am tramping
this infernal country, like a dead beat Sundowner, without a cent in my
pocket, while you are enjoying all the luxuries and happiness that life
and wealth can give. It's enough to make a man turn Anarchist right
off."
"That will do," said William Standerton quietly. "Remember that
to-morrow morning you will go back to the place whence you came; also
bear in mind the fact that if you endeavour to molest me, or to
communicate with me, or with any member of my family, I will carry out
the threat I uttered just now. That is all I have to say to you."
Then Standerton mounted his horse, and turning to his son, said:--
"Let us return home, James. It is getting late, and your sister will be
uneasy."
Without another word to the man beside the fire, they rode off, leaving
him looking after them with an expression of deadly hatred upon his
face. For some distance the two men rode in silence. Jim could see that
his father was much agitated, and for that reason he forbore to put any
question to him concerning the individual they had just left. Indeed it
was not until they had passed the Woolshed once more, and had half
completed their return journey that the elder man spoke.
"How much of my conversation with that man did you overhear?"
"Nothing but what I heard when Murbridge rose to his feet," James
replied. "I should not have come near you had I not heard his threat and
seen him approach you. Who is the man, father?"
"His name is Murbridge," said Standerton, with what was plainly an
effort. "He is a person with whom I was on friendly terms many years
ago, but he has now got into disgrace, and, I fear has sank very low
indeed. I do not think he will trouble us any more, however, so we will
not refer to him again."
All that evening William Standerton was visibly depressed. He excused
himself from playing his usual game of cribbage with his daughter, on
the plea that he had a headache. Next morning, however, he was quite
himself. He went out to his last day's work in the bush as cheerfully as
he had ever done. But had any one followed him, he, or she, would have
discovered that the first thing he did was to ride to the spot where
Richard Murbridge had slept on the previous night. The camp was
deserted, and only a thin column of smoke, rising from the embers of the
fire, remained to show that the place had been lately occupied.
"He has gone, then," said Standerton to himself. "Thank goodness! But I
know him too well to be able to assure myself that I have seen the last
of him. Next week, however, we shall put the High Seas between us, and
then, please God, I shall see no more of him for the remainder of my
existence."
At that moment the man of whom he was speaking, was tramping along the
dusty track with a tempest of rage in his heart.
"He may travel wherever he pleases," he was muttering to himself, "but
he won't get away from me. He may go to the end of the world, and I'll
follow him and be at his elbow, just to remind him who I am, and of the
claims I have upon him. Yes, William Standerton, you may make up your
mind upon one point, and that is the fact that I'll be even with you
yet!"