THE NOTE THAT FAILED
When Durham, having walked in from Waroona Downs, arrived at the bank,
he found the township in a state of excitement bordering on panic.
The noise of the firing during the night had brought everyone who was
awake at the time rushing to the scene. Men had mounted their horses and
raced away in the direction the fugitives were supposed to have taken,
returning hours afterwards with the information that no trace of them
could be discovered, beyond the prints of their horses' hoofs, here and
there, right up to the line of rocky rises which formed the commencement
of the range.
Durham brushed aside the volley of questions directed at him as to how
it came about that he had returned on foot. Passing into the bank he
asked Harding to come with him into the manager's office, and told
Brennan to clear everyone else out of the building.
As soon as he had heard Harding's account of what had happened, he
produced the handkerchief bearing Eustace's name.
"Can you identify that?" he asked. "It is marked, but I want to know if
you can recognise it apart from the name it bears?"
"It is like the handkerchiefs I use," Harding answered, as he pulled one
out of his pocket. "Eustace and I ordered some to be sent up, and we
divided them, taking half each."
"Did you mark them?"
"Mrs. Eustace did that for us. Is the name on this?"
He turned it round until he saw the name.
"Yes, that is one of Eustace's," he said.
"What time do you think it was when you saw that man's face at the
window?" Durham inquired.
"Between half-past nine and ten--nearer ten probably."
"Was the face familiar?"
"It was, but I cannot recall where I have seen it before. It struck me
as being a familiar face disguised. It was not Eustace's."
"You feel sure of that?"
"I'm quite sure. I wish you had been here to have seen it."
"I did see it."
"But you were at Waroona Downs."
"So I was. It was there I saw it. That man and his companion stuck the
house up. I was asleep on the verandah and they must have crept on me,
for when I awakened I was bound hand and foot. The man you describe was
standing in front of me. When I attempted to shout to warn Mrs. Burke, a
handkerchief was pressed over my mouth and tied by someone who kept
behind me. That is the handkerchief which was used. Who would you say
tied it?"
"I should suspect Eustace, of course; or do you think the man with the
beard was Eustace?"
Durham shook his head.
"No," he said. "The description I have of Eustace does not agree at all
with the build and general appearance of that man. If Eustace were there
at the time he must have kept behind me. Is Mrs. Burke a woman who talks
much?"
"Talks? She does nothing else. She tells everyone everything."
"Then it is no use my trying to keep this episode of the handkerchief
quiet?"
"Not if she knows anything about it. She will tell everyone about it
directly she comes to the township."
"Oh, she knows about it. She is a plucky woman. She drove them off,
firing at them; then she discovered me on the verandah and nearly shot
me into the bargain. When I was set free this handkerchief was on the
verandah and she saw it as soon as I picked it up."
"Then everyone in the township will hear about it," Harding said. "She
is to come in this afternoon to meet Mr. Wallace."
"When is he due?"
"About noon he ought to be here."
"Then I'll ride out and meet him," Durham said shortly. "Is there anyone
in particular who was with the crowd last night to whom I can go for
further information?"
"Mr. Gale was one."
"I'll see him," Durham said, and left the bank, finding Gale in the
street discussing the latest raid with half a dozen other men of the
town. He left them at once and came over to the sub-inspector.
"Look here, it's no use wasting more time," he exclaimed warmly. "We all
say there is only one thing to be done if those scoundrels are to be
caught. We must scour the ranges. I'll volunteer and so will everyone
else in the place. The only hope is to ride them down."
"Quite useless," Durham replied curtly.
"It's the only course to adopt," Gale retorted. "We're all bushmen here
and know what's the proper thing to do. You can't apply town methods to
bush-rangers, you know. You may be the smartest man in the force at
catching city burglars and spielers, but you are out of your element in
the bush. There's only one thing to be done--track them down."
"How many are there?"
"Well, two for certain--probably more."
"Probably more--exactly. And most probably one or other of the remainder
is in the town acting as a spy for the others. If that is so, what will
happen when you set out in force? Everyone would volunteer, as you say,
and one of the number would give warning of what was being done. What
chance would there be then of making a capture? You tried last night.
What was the result?"
"We found their tracks."
"Then why didn't you follow them?"
"Because with the crowd riding all over the ground we lost them,
and----"
"Just so," Durham interrupted. "It is what would happen again if your
suggestion were carried out. This is a one man's job, Mr. Gale. Directly
I want assistance I will come to you, but in the meantime I must ask you
to keep your fellow-townsmen from interfering."
He went on to the police-station, leaving Gale to convey his refusal of
assistance to the men who were keen on taking the matter into their own
hands. The refusal was received with open resentment and the group moved
towards the station to argue the matter out with the sub-inspector, but
before they reached it Durham rode out of the yard and set his horse to
a gallop along the road leading to the railway.
"It's all right, boys, he's got a clue," one of the men exclaimed
scornfully. "He's going to catch them at the junction!"
"Give him a cheer for luck," another cried, and the ironical shout
reached Durham as he galloped. But he paid no heed to it, riding on
steadily till he was away from the town and some miles along the road
when he saw, coming towards him, a pair-horse buggy accompanied by a
couple of mounted troopers. As they came nearer he recognised Wallace in
the buggy. The troopers drew to the side of the track as he reined in
beside the vehicle.
"Come back along the road a bit," he exclaimed, as he got off his horse
and gave the bridle to one of the troopers.
"Why are these troopers with you?" he asked when he and Wallace had
walked out of hearing.
"I have close on thirty thousand pounds in the buggy. I have had to
bring with me not only sufficient funds to enable the bank to carry on
its ordinary business, but a further twenty-five thousand in gold to
carry through the purchase of Waroona Downs from Mr. Dudgeon."
"Why is it necessary for all this gold to be used? I did not care to ask
Mr. Harding, but if it is not a bank secret----"
"Oh, it is no secret," Wallace exclaimed. "Mr. Dudgeon had a quarrel
with the bank some time since, and, in addition to giving himself a
great deal of unnecessary trouble, he delights in making everything we
have to do with him as unpleasant and difficult as possible. Any
payments we have to make to him have to be made in gold. He is legally
entitled to demand it, and he avails himself of his right to the utmost.
That is why I have had to push through with the amount so as to be able
to complete Mrs. Burke's purchase to-day. As we were not anxious to lose
another twenty-five thousand, we obtained an escort from head-quarters,
but I fancy the men have to return to-night."
"Eustace would know this second amount would have to be sent up?"
"Of course he would."
"And the presence of your escort would announce to him or his spies,
assuming that he is concerned in the robbery, that you have it with
you?"
"Naturally; but the risk was more than the general manager would allow
for me to travel with it unless I had police protection."
"You expect to pay it out this afternoon?"
"I anticipate Dudgeon will be at the bank clamouring for it, under
threat of crying off the sale, by the time I get there. The first thing
I shall most probably do is to pay it over."
"So that it will soon be out of the bank, and the bank's interest in it
will have ceased."
"Exactly," Wallace replied. "Mr. Dudgeon, who refuses to act through the
bank, will have the pleasure of providing his own strong-room for its
safe keeping."
"Eustace would know that too?"
"Certainly."
"Then you will have to send one or both of those troopers with Mr.
Dudgeon; otherwise he will be robbed to-night. It would certainly be the
last thing necessary to identify Eustace with the robbery at the bank,
but there is already enough to prove that, to my mind. Your duty ceases
when you have handed this sum over, but there mine begins."
"I intend to suggest to Mr. Dudgeon the advisability of his having
police protection while the gold is in his possession, in view of what
has already occurred. But I am quite sure that the suggestion will be
treated with contempt."
"Tell me where Mr. Dudgeon lives."
"He has another station on the opposite side of the township to Waroona
Downs, about ten miles out. He wants to sell that, too, and I don't mind
saying we all hope he will soon find a purchaser."
"How many men has he there?"
"Oh, he sold off all his stock from both places and discharged his hands
some months ago. He might have a couple of men about the place, but not
any more, I should say."
"Well, try and persuade him to take the escort. If he will not, send the
men out to the station to-night. I shall probably be there by the time
they arrive, but you need not mention this to them. Give the impression,
if you can, that I am on my way to Wyalla, and don't be surprised if I
take you unawares any time between this and noon to-morrow."
"I'm never surprised at anything you do, Durham," Wallace retorted
grimly. "We're quite satisfied the money will be recovered if
head-quarters leave you alone."
"I hope so--I can't say more," Durham said.
"But I can," Wallace continued. "It's in confidence, of course, but the
directors have decided that in the event of your recovering this money
they will present you with five thousand. I don't suppose that will make
you work any harder, but it may interest you to know it."
Durham rode at a slower pace when he had parted with Wallace than when
he came out of the township. The news that a fifth of the missing money
would be his when he recovered it gave him a far greater incentive than
Wallace anticipated. With five thousand pounds behind him he knew his
prospects of winning the woman who had fascinated him would be much
greater than if he had only his official salary as a financial backing
to his suit. Further, if he succeeded in recovering the gold he would
also recover the stolen documents. He had little doubt but what he would
be able to woo her successfully, were he able to return to her the
papers which had been stolen and go to her with his freshly won laurels
of victory.
A mile down the road he turned his horse into the bush and rode straight
for the range which rose between the township and Waroona Downs.
Skirting the flanking spurs, he followed on until he caught sight of the
tracks left by the horsemen who had ridden after the fugitives the night
before. In their haste and lack of system, he saw how they had crossed
and recrossed the marks left by the riders they were chasing. He walked
his horse to and fro until he came upon the tracks of the two horses
showing clear beyond the jumbled confusion of hoof-prints the amateur
trackers had made.
The two had ridden direct to the range. As he followed the track,
bending down in his saddle to note the marks, he laughed aloud. The men
were the veriest fools at bush-craft. There were instances by the dozen
which revealed to him the fact that neither had had any experience in
tracking, and so had failed to avail themselves of the chances the
ground they had ridden over offered to render their track difficult to
follow. Where the ground was soft, they had not swerved to avoid it, but
had left the prints of their horses' hoofs showing so clearly that to
the skilled bushman it was as an open book he could read as he rode.
Where low-growing shrubs stood in their way they had crashed through,
sometimes setting their horses to jump what should have been ridden
round. Everywhere the same thing was manifest. The riders were not
bushmen; they were in a great hurry; they were in country with which
they were not acquainted, and were hastening towards some landmark that
would bring them to a locality where they would be more at their ease.
As he followed the track, he sat back in his saddle. There was no need
to study the ground when he could see the hoof-prints showing right
ahead. So it was that he saw what those other riders had failed to
distinguish in the half light of the moon. There was a sudden dip in the
surface, a shallow depression sloping down to a little stream. Riding,
as they must have been riding, at a full gallop, it was a trap for an
unsteady horse and one of the horses was unsteady, for it had propped at
the brow of the slope, slipped, and come down on its knees, pitching its
rider clear over its head.
The spot where he fell was still distinguishable by the bent and broken
herbage and his heels had scored the ground as he scrambled to his feet,
caught his horse, and hastily remounted. He had been in a great hurry
and so had his companion, for there was no break in the tracks of the
second horse--the other man had ridden on without a moment's halt, had
ridden past his fallen companion and left him to do the best he could
for himself. All this was plain at one glance. Again Durham laughed
aloud at the folly of the pair, as he reined in his horse and sprang
from the saddle.
In his fall the fugitive rider had dropped something. It lay white on
the ground just beyond the mark he had made in falling. Durham picked it
up--a closed, unaddressed envelope bearing the bank's impress on the
flap.
He tore it open. Inside was a sheet of paper with the bank's heading,
but undated.
"No one saw me go, and I am safe now where they will never find me.
Stay there till you hear from me again. A friend will bring you
word. Ask no questions, but send your answer as directed. You must
do everything as arranged, or all is lost. Whatever you do, don't
leave till I send you word. I am safe till the storm blows
over.--C."
As Durham read the words, written in pencil and obviously in haste, he
was satisfied that his suspicion not only of Eustace, but of Mrs.
Eustace, was correct. The man with the yellow beard whom he himself had
seen, was possibly the "friend," through whom communication was to be
maintained between husband and wife. He and Eustace had evidently ridden
in during the evening with the intention of advising Mrs. Eustace of the
successful flight of her husband. Hesitating to approach the bank, until
he was certain the way was clear, Eustace had given the note to his
companion to deliver. Harding's vision of the face at the window
completed the picture. The man had crept up to the window of the room
where it was probably arranged Mrs. Eustace was to wait. So long as any
other person who might have been in the room occupied the chair Mrs.
Eustace placed, the shadow on the blind would warn the visitor that the
coast was not clear. It was due to the fact that Harding had noticed the
shadow and had moved to another chair that the man had so nearly been
captured.
What had followed was equally clear to Durham's mind.
Directly he found he was discovered the man had run to his horse and,
together with his companion, had galloped off, too quickly to allow him
either to explain how he had failed to deliver the message or to hand it
back to Eustace. It was most probably he who had come down with his
horse at the edge of the depression, by which time the letter would have
passed completely from his mind and so he would not notice its loss.
Under the circumstances it was very unlikely he would tell the truth to
his companion, but would rather leave Eustace under the impression that
the letter had been put where Mrs. Eustace would find it. Sooner or
later, therefore, Eustace would make another attempt to communicate with
his wife. If he were not captured otherwise there would be every hope of
securing him by keeping a close watch upon her.
With the letter in his pocket Durham remounted his horse and continued
to follow the track. It led him into the broken country which formed the
outlying spurs of the range, and continued along a narrow depression
lying between two ridges. The trees grew closer together in the shelter
of the little valley, and the track turned at right angles and continued
up the side of one of the ridges.
The surface became more rocky and Durham had to watch closely for the
hoof-prints as he gradually ascended to the top. For a time the track
ran along the summit and then turned down the other slope, following the
course of what, in the rainy season, would be a small rivulet. This
again turned where it met the bed of a larger stream and Durham set his
horse at a canter as he saw, distinct as a road, the marks left by the
runaways right along the bed of the stream.
As he went he worked out the direction in which he was travelling; the
stream he was following was evidently one which fed the watercourse
crossing the road in the range. It turned and twisted in and out small
flanking spurs, down the sides of which other streams had cut narrow
scars, now as dry as the stream-bed along which he was riding, but
which, in the time of the rains, would be roaring little torrents adding
their quota to that great pool dammed back by the mountain road.
Suddenly the creek took a sharp turn round a jutting bluff, and as he
passed beyond it he reined in his horse. Scarce twenty yards in front
was a sheet of water, its surface, without a ripple, reflecting the
tree-clad slopes that encompassed it. In the sand of the stream-bed the
track was so strong it might have been made only a few hours ago.
He rode warily to the water's edge. The pool stretched on both sides
away into the hills, but it was not that which made him rein in his
horse and sit motionless.
Along the margin of the pool there was a strip of sandy soil. It
extended to the right and to the left of the creek-mouth. Upon it the
marks both of wheels and hoof-prints showed.
The tracks he had been following swung sharp to the right; the
wheel-marks came from the left, crossed the creek-bed and continued to
the right.
His first impulse was to spur his horse along the track to the right,
see where it led, and then return along it to the left, but the
twenty-five thousand pounds to be paid to Dudgeon would be at the mercy
of the marauders, if, as Wallace anticipated, the old man refused police
protection.
Great as the temptation was to learn where the track led and whence it
came, Durham set his face against it.
He had stumbled on a clue, but the following it up was not for that day.
Later he would return and complete his discovery. For the present he
must leave it.
There was a long ride before him if he were to reach Dudgeon's homestead
at Taloona by sunset. That Eustace was one of the two men concerned in
the robbery of the bank he had now no doubt. The question he had to
consider was who the other man was. At the back of his mind there was a
lurking suspicion that the owner of Taloona might possess information
on the subject if he could be induced or inveigled to reveal it.
He glanced regretfully in the direction the tracks led. He would have
preferred to follow them to the end, but after all he might get nearer
the solution of the problem by a visit to Taloona.