After coming up Downy examined the opening in the rock critically.
'Do you think a man might have made his way through that hole before you
broke the edges down?' he asked Harry.
'Well, yes, with some crowding I think he might've.'
'Yet the boy said he had to squeeze his way through. Did you notice if
the opening had been enlarged recently? Were there indications of recent
breakages?'
'Yes, the stone had been broken in places. I s'posed the boys did that.'
'Perhaps. Here, Dick.'
Dick was quite sure neither he nor any of his mates had increased the
opening. They kept it small because it was easier to hide; besides, he
said, it was more fun having to squeeze through.
'Which of your mates took that bag?' asked Downy sharply.
'None of 'em.'
'Why are you so positive?'
''Cause I know they wouldn't be game.'
'Afraid of the darkness or the mine?'
'No, afraid o' me.' Dick squared his shoulders manfully.
'Get out--why should they be afraid of you?'
'Wasn't I legal an' minin' manager an' chairman o' the directors? If one
did what I told him not to he'd get the sack an' a lickin', too.'
'Oh, he would, eh? Well, you'd better give me their names anyhow. And
now,' he continued after jotting down the names of the shareholders of
the Mount of Gold, 'show me the track you took when you dragged the hide
bag through the quarry.'
Dick went back over his tracks, and Downy followed slowly on hands and
knees, rescuing a hair or two from the edges of the rock or from a
bramble here and there.
'Fortunately that bag of yours shed its hair freely, old man,' he said.
'here's corroborative evidence anyhow. The bag went down all right--now
let's see what proof there is that it came up again.'
He returned to the hole in the rock and commenced another search, with
his nose very close to the ground, moving slowly, and peering diligently
into every little cranny amongst the stones. At length, after travelling
about ten yards in the direction of the spring in this fashion, be called
sharply:
'Hi, Dick What were you doing with that bag here?'
'Never had it nowhere near here,' answered Dick.
'Come, recollect; you put it down for a spell.' 'Didn't,' said Dick.
'Went straight along the side, an' dropped it into the shaft.'
'But look--there's hair on the top of this rock and a tuft on the corner.
Mustn't tell me a cow would roost there, my lad.'
'Don't care--'twasn't me.'
Downy sat on the rock for a moment in a brown study, and the crowd, which
had made itself comfort able in one end of the quarry and up one side,
sat in awed silence, watching him closely, like a theatre audience
waiting for some wonder-worker to perform his feats of magic.
The detective did nothing astonishing. After collecting a portion of the
hair he deposited it carefully in his pocket-book, deposited the book
just as carefully in his breast-pocket, and then climbed out of the
quarry and marched away towards the township; and the crowd, relieved
from the restraint imposed by the law as personified in him, gathered
about the stone and examined it wisely, discovering a much longer and
more significant sermon in it than Downy had ever suspected, and finding
marrow-freezing suggestiveness in the marks of rust upon the face of the
rock, which were declared by common consent to be bloodstains. Waddy
confidently expected the gold-stealing case to culminate in the discovery
of a particularly atrocious murder, and Ephraim Shine was selected as the
probable victim. It was held by many that so good a man as the
superintendent had seemed to be could not reasonably be suspected of
consorting with a sinner like Joe Rogers with criminal intentions, and
the idea that he had been murdered by the real thieves under peculiarly
shocking circumstances was held to be more feasible, and was, in addition
to that, highly satisfactory from a dramatic point of view.
The investigations of the people stopped short at the entrance to the
shaft, where Peterson mounted guard and warned them off in the name of
the law, and meanwhile Hardy and McKnight were pegging out the land
preparatory to applying for a lease.
Downy went straight from the quarry to Shine's house, and, much to his
surprise, found the missing man's daughter there. Christina had altered
much during the last few hours: her face was now quite colourless, grief
had robbed it of its sweet simplicity, and the buoyant ingenuousness had
fled from her eyes. A new character was legible there, a strength of will
more in keeping with her fine presence. The almost childlike sympathy was
gone, and in its place was a trace of suffering and evidence of the
deeper forces of her nature. The detective eyed her keenly, with surprise
and interest, and saluted her in his most respectful manner.
'You have had the--eh, misfortune to meet me before, Miss Shine,' he
said.
Christina merely bowed her head.
'I am Detective Downy. I have a warrant for the arrest of Ephraim Shine.
I wish to search the house.'
'Yes,' said the girl quietly, and stepped from the door to make way for
him.
Downy entered and commenced his search at once. He examined the whole
place minutely, foolishly it seemed to Christina, who stood by the door
apparently impassive but following all his movements with her eyes. He
was particularly careful in overhauling a coat that her father had worn,
and having gone through the three rooms he walked out and round the
house. There was no place near where a man might hide but in the tank,
and that was full of water, as he cautiously noted. He faced Christina
for a moment, as if with the intention of questioning her, but changed
his mind, wished her 'Good day,' and moved off.
Up to six o'clock next day nothing had been heard of Shine; he had
disappeared in a most astonishing manner. The police of the whole country
were alert to capture him, and it was thought that escape for him was
impossible, if only on account of his physical peculiarities, which
should have made him a marked man anywhere in Victoria or in either of
the neighbouring provinces. Sergeant Monk and several troopers were
stationed at Waddy, and were kept busy hunting in the old mines and all
the nooks and corners of the district. Harry Hardy joined in the hunt
throughout Tuesday. He had a feverish desire for employment--occupation
for his mind which, in spite of the efforts he made to dwell upon the
villainies of Ephraim Shine and the wrong he had done Frank, and the good
reasons he had to hate him, would revert again and again to Christina;
and then a wish, a cowardly wish, traitorous to his brother, cruel to his
mother, and false to himself, stole into his heart, and he felt for one
burning moment a hope that the searcher might escape for her sake, for
the sake of sweet Chris, whose victory over him he acknowledged and
nursed in secret with a wealth of feeling that amazed him, with a passion
he had never dreamed himself capable of. He fought this wish furiously,
as if it had been a tangible thing: grappling with it, choking it in his
heart, and stirring up in his soul a wilder hatred for his enemy.
Harry saw Chris for a moment on the morning after the arrest of Joe
Rogers; the change in her startled him, his love flamed up, and pity tore
at his heart strings. His triumph must mean suffering and shame for her.
Had he stood alone he would ten thousand times rather have borne what
misfortune might have fallen to his lot than see her shamed and
sorrowing. It was thoughts like these that rose up to make him his
brother's enemy, and they were conquered in sweat and agony; and since
his loyalty to his own kin could only be maintained at a fever heat, he
stood forth as the most bitter and implacable foe of Ephraim Shine.
Coming from Mrs. Hardy's gate on that night at about nine o'clock, Dick
Haddon collided with a breathless boy running at top speed in the
direction of the Drovers' Arms, and the two went down together. When Dick
had quite recovered he recognised the other, whom he had gripped with
'vengeful intentions, as Billy Peterson.
'Lemme go,' cried Billy. 'Quick, can't yer! I'm goin' fer the troopers.'
'Who for?' asked Dick, hanging to his friend.
'Find out.'
'Oh, right you are; but you won't go, that's all.'
'Well, I'm goin' to tell 'em that Tinribs is up at his house.'
'How d'yer know?'
'I was sneakin' round to get a shot at a cat, an' I heard 'em. Lemme go
'r he'll be gone, you fool.'
'Won't,' said Dick, masterfully. 'You ain't goin'.'
'Who'll stop me?'
'I will.'
'Tain't in yer.'
A struggle commenced between the boys and rapidly merged into a stand-up
fight. When Harry Hardy appeared on the scene, attracted by their cries,
he found the combatants locked in a fierce embrace, each clinging
desperately to a handful of the other's hair and hammering vigorously at
his opponent's ribs. Harry pulled them apart as if they had been
terriers.
'Here, here, what's all this about?' he cried.
'Dick stopped me goin' fer the troopers,' said Billy indignantly.
'The troopers?'
'Yes, fer Mr. Shine. He's up in his house. I heard him--he was talkin' to
Miss Chris in the dark.'
'Stop!' said Harry; but Billy, who had broken away, picked up his heels
and ran.
Harry did not linger, but turned and sped off to wards Shine's home,
leaving Dick cowering against the fence. The young man had no defined
intention--he did not know what he should do if he found Shine in the
house. His divided interests left his mind confused at the crucial
moment, but he did not relax his speed until he was within a few yards of
the searcher's door. Then, to his astonishment, he found lights burning
in the house, and Christina confronted him in the doorway as he was about
to enter. He drew back a step and his eyes sought the ground. He stood
panting and speechless.
'What do you want, Harry?' she asked.
Had she been bitter or angry it might have been easier for him, but her
voice was low and kindly, and he was abashed. He was compelled to force
himself to his purpose, as he might have pushed a backing horse at a
stiff fence.
'I want your father. He is here.' His voice was harsh and strained.
'My father is not in here.'
'He has been seen. Let me pass.'
'No, Harry, you have no right.' She barred the way, tall and calm and
strong.
'No right? No right to take the man who has gaoled my brother--who would
have murdered me?' His blood had mounted to his head; he had put aside
his love as something that tempted him to evil, put it aside by an almost
heroic effort of renunciation. 'I will have him,' he cried; 'the would-be
murderer, the thief.'
'No,' said Christina firmly facing him.
'Then he's here--he is here?
'No.'
'You lie thinking to save him, but the troopers are coming.' He pointed
back into the night. From where he stood the back door was visible, and
he watched it intently.
'The troopers are the officers of the law. I can not deny them, you I
can. Harry, you are fierce and cruel--fierce and unforgiving.' The
reproach was not spoken fretfully; it was quite dispassionate, but it
struck him like a blow and he bent before it, conscious of its injustice
but not daring to deny it. They remained so in silence for a few minutes,
and then heard the rush of the troopers' horses coming up the grass-grown
back road at a gallop.
'They're coming,' said Harry in a low voice.
Christina neither stirred nor spoke, and Monk at the head of four
horsemen swept up to the house.
'To the front, Donovan and Keel,' cried Monk. 'He may make for cover in
those quarries if he bolts.
Casey, stay here. Managan, follow me.'
He dropped from his horse and led the animal to Harry, to whom he threw
the rein. Christina did not attempt to bar his passage, and he and
Managan passed into the house. Chris stood by the door jamb, facing
Harry, erect and pale; Harry leant against the big galvanised-iron tank,
absently fondling the head of the trooper's horse. Suddenly, a moment
after the troopers had entered the house, he heard right at his elbow the
sound of something striking upon the iron of the tank inside. He started
forward with a low cry, and his eyes flew to the face of the girl. She,
too, had heard the sound, and their eyes met. The terror in hers told him
that he had discovered the truth.
'He's there,' he whispered.
Christina staggered back, supporting herself against the wall, and fell
into a seat under the window, the light from which streamed upon her fair
hair and illumined her as she sat, crushed by her misery into an attitude
of profound despair, her head bowed upon her breast, her clasped hands
thrust out rigidly be yond her knees.
Harry stood silent and motionless, his eyes fixed upon the grief-stricken
figure of the girl, his brain in a tumult. His heart was driving him to
forget everything but that he loved her, to take her in his arms and
swear to shield her and cherish her, come what might. At this moment
Sergeant Monk came from the house.
'Not a sign of him,' he said. 'Did you see any thing of him, Hardy?
'Not a glimpse,' answered Harry mechanically.
'Did you go inside?'
'No; Miss Shine refused admittance.'
'Why are you here, miss?' asked Monk, turning sharply to Christina.
'I am here because it is my home,' she answered unsteadily.
'But don't you live with the Summers family?'
'People may not care to shelter the daughter of--of one suspected of
robbery and almost murder.' The girl's head sank lower still and a
convulsive sob shook her frame; but she controlled herself with a brave
effort of will and sat immovable.
Monk's horse was nosing in the bucket under the tap of the tank, and
Harry stooped and turned the tap. The water ran swiftly, filling the
bucket in a few seconds. While the horse drank the sergeant gave
whispered orders to Casey; and Christina, with steadfast eyes and locked
fingers, sat waiting for Harry to speak the dreaded words, wondering at
his silence. Monk moved round the house, peering into all the corners,
and came to the tank again. It stood on a small platform raised on four
uprights, and all was open underneath. The sergeant examined it. He
climbed to the top, removed the lid and, striking a light, looked in. The
tank was full of water.
'I am going to hunt over the quarries,' said the trooper in a low voice,
as he mounted. 'Donovan and Keel are taking a run in the paddock, Casey
will try the houses about here. You might keep your eyes open, Hardy.
Perhaps that boy was mistaken, but we mustn't miss a chance.'
Harry nodded, scarcely comprehending what the man said, and Monk rode off
leaving the two alone. For a minute or more they continued in the same
position; then Harry stole to Chris, and kneeling in the shadow by her
side took her hand firmly in his.
'He is there,' he whispered.
'What are you going to do?' she added in a strange voice.
'Why don't you get him away?'
'Away?' she murmured vaguely.
'Yes, yes; I will help you.' His left arm clasped her closely, and his
breath was on her cheek.
She turned her face towards him, and there was a new hope in it, another
spirit in her glorious eyes.
'You are not going to give him up.'
'I can't--I can't do it!'
'Thank God!' she murmured, and there was some thing more than relief for
her father's sake in her tone. He had made a revelation that filled her
with a passion of joy which for a moment drove out the fears and
anxieties that had possessed her heart.
'I love you--I love you, dear,' he continued in a voice ardent,
caressing; 'an' I can't bear to see you suffer.'
She let her face sink to his and kissed him on the mouth, and he clasped
her to his breast and held her, repeating again and again expressions of
his devotion that love made eloquent. Her pale face turned to him seemed
luminous with the ecstacy of the moment. For a brief sweet minute she
abandoned herself to that ecstacy and forgot everything beside.
'I have always loved you, my darling! my darling!' she whispered--'
always. That night at the gate I thought you cared and I was happy, but
afterwards I was afraid. I thought you might hate me for his sake, and I
was wretched.'
'I did try to, Chris--I tried to hate you. I was a fool. I couldn't do
anything but love in spite of myself, an' now I'll help you, dear.'
'No, no, no, Harry; no--you must not!' She put him from her with her
strong arms. 'It is wrong. I cannot let you. It is right that I should
fight for him--he is my father. He has been a good father to me, and I
have loved him and believed in him. It is my duty to fight for him, but
you must not, my dear love. In you it would be a wrong, a crime.'
'He is your father--I love you!
'Yes, yes, and oh, I am glad you love me; but you must leave me to do
what I can alone. It is not your duty to help him. Think of your mother,
your brother, your own honour.'
'We can save Frank now without this.'
'You cannot be sure of that, Harry--you only hope so.'
'Am I to tell the troopers, then?'
'No, no--oh, no; I am not brave enough to say that! I cannot bear to
think of you as his hunter, his bitterest foe. 'Twas that thought made my
shame and my sorrow so terrible a burden; but I can carry it better now.'
'My poor girl! my poor girl!'
He bent his lips to the white hand upon his shoulder and kissed it
tenderly.
'God bless you, Harry!' she faltered, tears springing to her eyes. 'I
know how generous you are. As a boy you had a big brave heart, and I
admired you and loved you for it; but I can take no sacrifice that might
bring more sorrow upon your mother, that might wrong your brother and
bring shame to you.'
'But Frank's innocence will be known. Dickie Haddon heard them as good as
admit it.'
'Yes, I know the story. I made Mrs. Haddon tell me all, and I know that
they left you to drown; and now for my sake you would save him, run the
risk of being discovered assisting him to escape from justice--and the
risk is great, dear. Think what it would mean if that became known, how
it would blacken poor Frank's case. People would say they had all been in
league to rob the mine; you would be despised, your mother's heart would
break. Harry, that must not be. The shame is mine now; you and yours have
borne enough. I cannot drag you into it again. I cannot have your
precious love for me made a source of danger and dishonour to you. No,
no; I love you too well for that--much too well for that, dear.'
She spoke in little more than a whisper, but there was the intensity of
deep feeling in every word.
He drew her to her feet and into his arms again with tender reverence,
and softly kissed her tired eyelids. She was only a girl, and the strife
of the last two days had told upon her strength. It was sweet to rest so,
knowing and feeling his strength, confident of his devotion.
'But I love you--I love you, Chris,' he said.
'Yes, you love me and I love you.' Her hand stole to his neck. 'Ah, how
happy we might have been!
'Might have been? We must be happy--we must!' he said vehemently. 'I love
you, an' your sorrow is mine, your trouble is mine. I won't let anything
interfere. I must help you!
'No, Harry, I will not take your help. You do not stand alone. Before I
would have you do that I would tell the truth myself. My father is ill;
he may never get away. I think he will not. What would be left to me if
he were taken after all, and you were known to have assisted him in his
endeavours to elude the police? I could not bear it. No, no, dear, you
must leave us alone to that. Promise.'
They were standing in the darkness by the wall. He drew her more closely
to him and his only answer was a kiss.
'If he does escape,' she said, 'I will go into court and tell what I
know, if it will help your brother. Perhaps I ought to tell the truth now
in justice and honour, but I cannot desert my father. There is something
here will not let me do that,' She pressed a hand to her bosom.
'No, you can't do that. I'm sorry for you, Chris. It's a hard fight. I
want to fight with you. By Heaven! you don't know how I could fight for
you.'
Her head had fallen upon his breast again; he felt her sob, and broke
into vehement speech--passionate assurances of love half spoken,
ejaculations, fierce endearments, tender words--then was as suddenly
silent again, and stood over her with his lips amongst her hair until her
mood passed.
'I will come to-night,' he whispered, when at length she ceased weeping.
'No,' she said, and she was strong again. 'In asking you to be silent I
make you false to your people. I do ask that, but no more. Harry, you
must not come again. Promise me you will not.'
'You'll come to me--we'll see each other?'
'No, dear. Better not, till this terrible business is over.'
Chris, I can't part like that.'
'You must, you must. Would you make it harder for me? Would you give me a
new burden of shame and grief?'
'I'd die for you! There's nothing I wouldn't do for you!
'Then do this, my true love. Promise me you will not come here again.'
'Will it be for long?'
'No, it cannot be for long. Promise me. Promise me. Promise!'
'You know if he's-taken an' tried I will have to give evidence against
him.'
'I do,' she answered, shuddering.
'An' that'll make no difference to our love?'
'I will always love you, Harry.'
'This trouble's making a great change in you, Chris,' he said yearningly.
'You're pale and ill. It'll wear you out.'
She felt herself weakening again, but summoned all her resolution and
stood true to her purpose.
'I can bear it,' she said. 'I must! Promise me. Harry, the troopers are
coming--your promise!'
'I promise.' He held her a moment caught to his heart, they exchanged a
long kiss, and she slipped from him and into the house.