SHORTLY after eight o'clock on the night of Dick's journey to Yarraman
the figure of a woman approached the searcher's house and knocked softly
at the front door. There was a light burning within, but the knock
provoked no response. The visitor knocked again with more vigour;
presently a bolt was withdrawn and the door opened a few inches, and
Christina Shine, seeing her visitor, uttered a low cry and staggered back
into the centre of the room, throwing the door wide open. It was Mrs.
Hardy who stood upon the threshold.
'May I come in, my dear?' she asked in a kindly tone.
Christina, standing with one hand pressed to her throat and her burning
eyes fixed intently upon the face of the elder woman, nodded a slow
affirmative. Mrs. Hardy entered, closing the door behind her, and stood
for a moment gazing pitifully at the distracted girl, for Chris had a
wild hunted look, and weariness and anxiety had almost exhausted her. She
faced her visitor with terror, as if anticipating a blow.
'My poor girl,' Mrs. Hardy said gently; 'I suppose you wonder why I have
come?'
Again Chris moved her head in vague acquiescence.
'I have heard how heavily this blow has fallen upon you, and my heart
bled with pity. I felt I might be able to comfort you.
Chris put her back with a weak fluttering hand.
'My dear, I am an old woman; I have seen much trouble and have borne
some, and I know that hearts break most often in loneliness.'
'You know the truth?' asked the girl, through dry lips.
'I know Richard Haddon's story.' 'And you have not come to--to--'
'I have come to offer you all a woman's sympathy, my girl; to try to help
you to be strong.'
Mrs. Hardy took the weary girl in her arms and kissed her pale cheek.
'You are good! You are very good!' murmured Chris brokenly, clinging to
her. But she suddenly thrust herself back from the sheltering arms and
uttered a cry of despair.
The door communicating with the next room had been opened and a grim
figure crept into the kitchen, the figure of Ephraim Shine. The man was
clad only in a tattered shirt and old moleskins; his face was as gaunt as
that of death, and his skin a ghastly yellow. He moved into the room on
his hands and knees, seeking something, and chummered insanely as he
scratched at the hard flooring-boards with his claw-like fingers, and
peered eagerly into the cracks. He moved about the room in this way,
searching in the corners, dragging his way about with his face close to
the floor.
'I'll find it, I'll find it,' he muttered; 'oh! I'll find it. Rogers is
cunnin', but I'm more cunnin'. I know where it's hid, an' when I get it
it'll be mine--all mine!
Mrs. Hardy stole close to the girl, and they clasped hands.
'Is he mad?' asked the elder woman hoarsely.
'He has taken a fever, I think,' answered the girl, 'and I can hide him
no longer. I cannot help him now.' She sank back upon a chair and
followed her father's movements with tearless, hopeless eyes.
'Rogers is a liar!' muttered Shine. 'A liar he is, an' he'd rob me; but
I'll beat him. It's hid down here, down among the rocks. The gold is
mine, mine, mine!' His voice rose to a thin scream and he beat fiercely
upon the boards with his bony hand.
'He has been ill ever since Rogers was taken, but he only took this turn
this evening. Oh! I tried hard to help him; I tried hard! He is my
father. Oh, my poor father! my poor, poor father!
'Hush, hush, dear,' said Mrs. Hardy. 'We must help him on to his bed.
Come!'
Each took an arm of the sick man and raised him to his feet. He offered
no resistance, but allowed them to lead him to the bunk in the other room
and place him upon it, although he continued to utter wild threats
against Joe Rogers and to chummer about the gold, and move his hands
about, scratching amongst the bedclothes.
Mrs. Hardy brought the light from the kitchen, and busied herself over
the delirious man, making him as comfortable as possible upon his narrow
bed. She gave directions to Chris and the girl obeyed them, bringing
necessary things and making a fire in the kitchen. She seemed inspired
with a new hope, and presently she moved to Mrs. Hardy's side again.
'Do you think he will die?' she asked.
'I do not think so, dear. It is brain fever, I believe.'
'How good you are--you whom he has wronged so cruelly!
She ceased speaking and gripped her companion's arm. The latch of the
back door clicked, a step sounded upon the kitchen floor, and the next
moment Detective Downy appeared within the room. He glanced from the
women to the bunk, and then strode forward and laid a hand upon Ephraim
Shine.
'This man is my prisoner,' he said.
Shine sat up again, moving his arms and muttering:
'Yes, yes, down the old mine; that's it! Let me go. It's hid in the old
mine--my gold, my beautiful gold!'
'You cannot take him in this state,' said Mm. Hardy; 'it would be
brutal.'
The detective examined him closely, and, being satisfied that the man was
really ill and unlikely to escape, went to the kitchen door and blew a
shrill blast of his whistle in the direction of the quarries. When he
returned Chistina was on her knees by the bunk, as if praying, and Mrs.
Hardy was bathing the patient's temples. After a few minutes Sergeant
Monk rode up and joined them in the room.
'Here is our man,' said Downy quietly. Send Donovan for the covered-in
waggon at the hotel. We will have to take him on a mattress.'
'Shot?' cried Monk.
'No; off his head. Send a couple of your men in here. I think I'll get my
hands on that gold presently.'
The sergeant withdrew, and Downy touched Chris on the shoulder.
'It's a bad business, miss,' he said. 'You made a plucky fight, but this
was inevitable. Will you tell me where he was hidden?'
Chris arose and stood with her back to the wall and answered him in a
firm voice. She understood the futility of further evasion.
'He hid in the tank,' she said. 'It has a false bottom, and you get in
from below.'
The detective expressed incredulity in a long breath.
'Well, that fairly beats me,' he said. 'When did he fix the tank?'
'I do not know. I had no idea it was done until the night of the arrest
of Rogers.'
At this moment Casey and Keel entered.
'Stand by the man, Casey,' said the detective. 'Keel, follow me.'
Downy went straight to the tank and, creeping under it, struck a match
and examined the floor above on which it rested. Two of the boards had
been moved aside, and in the bottom of the tank there was an opening
about eighteen inches in diameter with a sheet of iron to cover it, in
such a way as to deceive any but the most careful seeker. The detective
ordered Keel to bring a candle, and when it was forth coming he drew
himself up into the tank and struck a light. An ejaculation of delight
broke from his lips, for there at his hand lay a skin bag covered with
red-and-white hair, and by its side shone a magnificent nugget shaped
like a man's boot. This the detective recognised as the nugget described
by Dick Haddon. There were also a pickle bottle containing much rough
gold, and two or three small parcels.
The compartment in which Downy sat was just high enough to allow of a man
sitting upright in it, and large enough to enable him to lie in a
crescent position with out discomfort. A pipe from the roof was connected
with the tap, so that water could be drawn from the tank as usual. The
job had been carefully done, and had evidently cost Shine much labour.
The searcher had designed the compartment as a hiding-place for his
treasure, the quantity of which convinced Downy that his depredations at
the mine (in conjunction with Rogers, probably) had been of long
standing. The parcels contained sovereigns and there were small bags of
silver and copper--a miser's hoard. The detective dropped the bag, the
nugget, and all the other articles of value out of the tank, and with the
assistance of Keel carried them into the kitchen. He examined the
material in the hide bag, and found it to be washdirt showing coarse gold
freely. The nugget was a magnificent one, containing, as the detective
guessed, about five hundred ounces of gold, and worth probably close upon
two thousand pounds. Nothing nearly so fine had ever before been
discovered in the Silver Stream gutters, although they had always been
rich in nuggets.
When Mrs. Hardy returned home an hour later, Harry had just come in from
work. The shareholders in the Native Youth were so anxious to cut the
stone that they were putting in long shifts. There were traces of tears
about Mrs. Hardy's eyes, and her expression of deep sorrow alarmed her
son.
'Why, what's wrong, mother?' he asked quickly. 'Have you had bad news?'
'No, Henry. I have been with Christina Shine.'
'You. You, mother?' he cried, in surprise. 'Not--' He suddenly
recollected himself and was silent. He knew his mother to be incapable of
a cruel or vindictive action.
'Mrs. Haddon told me how the poor girl was suffering for her father's
villainy, and I was deeply sorry for her. I thought that under the
circumstances my sympathy might strengthen her.'
'God bless you for that, mother' said Harry fervently, and his mother
looked at him sharply, surprised by his tone.
'Shine has been arrested,' she said. 'The police have taken him in to
Yarraman.'
'Taken--Shine taken!'
'He was captured while I was there.' Mrs. Hardy told her son the story of
Shine's arrest, and Harry sat with set teeth and eyes intent for some
minutes after she had finished.
'My boy,' his mother said, placing a hand upon his shoulder, 'this does
not seem to please you.
His head fell a little, and he opened and clenched again the strong hands
gripped between his knees.
'And yet,' she continued, 'it confirms your suspicions. It may mean the
assertion of Frank's innocence.'
'I love her!' he said with some passion.
His mother was greatly startled, and stood for a moment regarding him
with an expression of deep feeling.
'You love her--his daughter?'
'With all my heart, mother.'
'Since when?'
'I don't know. Since that Sunday in the chapel, I believe.'
'And she?'
'She loves me.'
Mrs. Hardy moved to a chair, sat down with her face turned from him, and
stayed for many minutes apparently lost in thought. She started, hearing
Harry at the door.
'Where are you going?' she asked.
'To see Chris.' He answered in a tone hinting defiance, as if expecting
antagonism; but his mother said nothing more, and He passed out.
Harry found Chris sitting alone in her father's house. A candle burned on
the table by her side, her hands lay idly in her lap. He had expected to
find her weeping, surrounded by women, but her eyes were tearless and the
news of Shine's arrest was not yet known in the township. Harry fell on
his knees by her side and clasped her about the waist. There was a sort
of dull apathy in her face that awed him. He did not kiss her.
'I've heard, dear,' he whispered. 'All's over.'
'Yes,' she said, looking at him for the first time, without surprise.
'Why are you sitting here?' he asked.
'I'm waiting for Dickie Haddon,' she said listlessly. 'He went to
Yarraman to buy some things to make a disguise. It is only fair to wait.'
He was touched with profound pity; but her mood chilled him, he dared not
offer a caress.
'And then?'
'And then? Oh, then I will go to the homestead. I want rest--only rest,
rest!
'Did Summers know the truth, Chris?'
She shook her head slowly.
'No,' she said. 'I deceived him--I deceived them all. I lied to
everybody. I used to pride myself once, a fortnight ago, when I was a
girl, on not being a liar.
'You mustn't talk in this despairing way, dear. Let me take you home. I
will meet Dick an' tell him.'
'Tell him it is too late, but I am grateful all the same--very, very
grateful.'
'Yes, yes. Come. You are weary; you'll be stronger to-morrow an' braver.'
He led her away, and they walked across the flat and through the paddock
in silence. It seemed to Harry that she had forgotten their avowals of
love. Her attitude frightened him, he dreaded lest she should be on the
eve of a serious illness; he had sore misgivings and tortured himself
with many doubts. Her words rang in his head with damnable iteration: 'I
deceived them all. I lied to every body.'
Maori welcomed them under the firs, capering heavily and putting himself
very much in the way, but with the best intentions. Summers came to the
verandah and greeted Chris with warmth.
'Eli, but ye're pale, lassie,' he said, having drawn her into the light.
'Take her in,' whispered Harry; 'she's quite worn out.'
'Will ye no come in yersel'?'
'No, no, thanks. Come back here, Mr. Summers; I want to speak to you.'
Summers led the girl into the house and returned after a few moments.
'What's happened tae the girl? She's not herself at all,' he said.
'Her father's been taken.'
'Ay, have they got him? Weel, 'twas sure to be.'
''Twas she who hid him, but he went light-headed with some sickness, an'
the police came down on him. She feels it awfully, poor girl, being alone
in a way.'
'Not alone, not while Jock Summers moves an' has his bein'.'
Harry had been fishing for this. He knew the man, and that his simple
word meant as much as if it had been chiselled deep in marble.
'Good night,' he said, throwing out an impetuous hand. While he hastened
away under the trees Summers stood upon the door-sill, gazing after him,
ruefully shaking the tingling fingers of his right hand.
Harry returned to the skillion and loitered about for ten minutes without
discovering anything of Dick Haddon, but at the expiration of that time
Dick stole out of the darkness and approached him with an affectation of
the greatest unconcern. His greeting was very casual, and he followed it
with a fishing inquiry intended to discover if the young man knew
anything of Christina's whereabouts.
'Never mind, Dick, old man,' said Harry kindly, 'it's all UP.'
'All up?' cried Dick.
'Yes, I know why you went to Yarraman; but it's been a wasted journey,
Dick. Shine was arrested a couple of hours ago, an' she's broken
hearted.'
Dick received the news in silence, and they walked homewards together.
'What'll I do with this?' asked Dick at Hardy's gate, producing a parcel
from under his vest.
'Hide it away, an' keep it dark. Not a word must be said to hurt her.'
'Good,' answered the boy. 'I know a cunnin' holler tree. So long, Harry.'
'So long, mate.'
Dick liked the word mate; it touched him nearly with its fine hint of
equality and community of interests; it seemed to suit their romantic
conspiracy, too, and sent him away with a little glow of pride in his
heart.
When Harry re-entered his own home he found his mother seated as he had
left her. She arose and approached him, placing a hand on either
shoulder.
'Well, my boy?'
'Well, mother?
'You have seen her?'
'Yes. I've taken her to the homestead. She is dazed. It seems as if she
no longer cared.'
'It will pass, Henry.'
'You think my love will pass?'
'All this seeming great trouble.'
'It'll pass, mother, if she comes back to me; never unless.'
'The sins of the fathers,' sighed Mrs. Hardy as he turned from her to his
own room, like a wounded animal seeking darkness. 'The sins of the
fathers.'