Force and Fraud (8 page)

“Aye, aye, we'll bring it home to the right person; no fear of that,” returned Harry impetuously.

They alighted, and entered the hotel together – Silverton, with the intention of seeking
his friend,
Saunders, his
sweetheart
; though the object of both was frustrated.

In the first place, Lindsey – who could no longer control his impatience – had gone to make inquiries respecting Flora's health; therefore, on ascertaining this fact, Mr Silverton hastened to overtake him.

In the second place, Saunders, hearing that Mary was engaged in arranging the sleeping apartments of some newly-arrived travellers, walked up and down the courtyard – now listening to various remarks on the all-absorbing topic, now pondering on the events of the last few days. He pondered his hastily-conceived liking for Herbert Lindsey, and his former dislike of Pierce Silverton (for such feeling he had once conceived); and the recollection of it causing him a pang of remorse. His generous disposition made him resolve to do all in his power to repair the evil he had thought.

“And it's waiting to see Mary you are, Mr Saunders?” asked a pretty girl, who at the moment came up with a basket of linen.

“Maybe so; but I'm glad to wait in your company, my dear,” replied Harry, chucking the girl under the chin; for the sight of her laughing face, roused him out of his sombre mood.

“Arrah! and d'ye think I'd be bothering myself with another girl's sweetheart?” said the rustic coquette, as she turned away.

“Stop a bit, Biddy; I've got a word to say to you about Dan,” returned Harry, endeavouring to detain his pretty companion.

“Bother Dan! Mother's waiting for me outside, and she would
go on
if she knew I was talking about
him.
La! I wish Mary'd come, I've got a message for her.”

“What is it, Biddy? Can't I tell her?”

“Oh, yes, I dare say you can. It's only that mother couldn't get them stains out of the bosom of the gentleman's shirt; but she says it'll be all right after another washing. Here's the parcel, you may give it to Mary; I've ever so many more places to go to.”

Biddy tripped away; but she had no sooner gone than Harry's curiosity led him to unpin the wrapper in which the linen was folded. He shook his head and sighed, muttering to himself, “I'm not the man to give Biddy's message. I won't help to put his head in a halter, unless I am bound to speak the truth.”

But he was aroused from his reverie by the sight of a man posting a large placard against a wall. Harry read the heading: ‘Wilful Murder'. He saw the date of the occurrence, the name of the deceased, the official reward for the apprehension of the culprit, the official signature – and felt a conviction that, ere long, the crime would meet its just punishment.

Meantime Herbert Lindsey, having reached the place of his late rendezvous with Flora, was about to advance towards the house when, looking round, he saw Pierce Silverton riding up, and heard him call out, “Where are you going, Lindsey?”

“To see Flora, to be sure. Saunders told me that she was better,” replied the impatient lover.

“She
is
better, I am glad to say, but not yet well enough to receive company.”

“Company? What nonsense! Am I not her affianced husband?”

“You
were.
But I hear she now reproaches herself with disobedience towards her father. On the evening before his death he repeated his refusal to sanction her marriage with you, in consequence of which a dispute ensued. Therefore, I do not think she would like to act in open violation of his command; at least immediately. Wait till tomorrow, I will then let you know when you can see her. Believe me, Lindsey, I will act towards you as if you were my own brother.”

“God bless you, Pierce, you are a true friend; but it is hard to be debarred from her presence.”

“I will tell her you say so; that is, if I am admitted, for I have not yet seen her.”

The next morning, Silverton despatched a note to his friend, in which he stated that having heard of the proposed departure of one of Miss McAlpin's trustees for England, he thought it his duty to see Mr Manners before he sailed. The note concluded with assurances of friendship; and a regret that Miss McAlpin was not yet able to leave her room.

On arriving in Melbourne, Mr Silverton found plenty to do. In the first place he had to call on certain detective officers respecting the necessary steps to be taken for the discovery of the murderer; in the second, to seek out Miss McAlpin's trustees. One of the latter was a mere cypher who, whenever it was possible, permitted any person to transact
his
concerns; therefore it was not likely that he would be very energetic about those of other people. But his associate being a very active man would be of the greatest assistance under the present circumstances; and, as Mr Silverton thought, might probably be induced to delay his departure. What then was his disappointment on learning that Mr Manners had sailed the very day that the murder had been discovered!

Pierce Silverton censured himself severely for having omitted to note the departure of the vessel – an oversight very excusable at such a time; but it was not till he reached the wharf that he became aware of the mischance.

“Is there any possibility of the
Royal Oak
being detained at the heads? This wind is against her getting out,” he said to a sailor whom he met on the pier.

“Bless your soul, sir! She has made five hundred miles by this time; this wind will not alter her course to signify,” replied the sailor.

Mr Silverton walked up and down in evident trouble; doubtless he was overwhelmed by the weight of his own responsibility. He was not a strong man, and had lately been compelled to witness a sight that strikes terror into the strongest heart. So after a little while, he sat down on the pier thinking that the sea breeze might restore his nerves; and perhaps envying the robust constitution of a countryman, who came up at that moment.

“Well, Dick, how goes it? You look as well as ever!” Silverton said to the man.

“And why shouldn't I? Trifles don't affect me, you know, Mr Silverton.”

“Trifles don't give me much trouble either, but what I've gone through during the last two or three days is no trifle at all.”

“Come across a dead man, as I hear. Pooh!” exclaimed the countryman, whistling between his teeth, and snapping his fingers.

“It is not everyone who can boast such nerves as yours, Dick,” returned Mr Silverton in a melancholy voice.

“Nerves be blowed! What's a fellow who has to live alone in the bush to do with nerves, I should like to know?”

“Ah, but you have got rid of the bush for some time. You are quite ready for your voyage, I hope.”

“No, I ain't.”

“No? The
Robespierre
sails tomorrow!”

“She may sail when she likes. If I go in her, I'll be–”

“Why not? I thought it was all settled.”

“No, tisn't. I don't like her name; they say it belonged to a French fellow who sent lots of poor devils out of the world in double quick time.”

“What do you care about such nonsense as the name of a ship? I thought you had more sense, Dick.”

“Anyhow, I haven't got the money.”

“Got no money? And the three hundred pounds I gave you, where's
that
gone?”

“Blowed if I know! That's all I've left of it. You'll have to fork out again, Mr Silverton.”

The stranger drew three or four sovereigns and a little silver out of his pocket, and Mr Silverton, after a pause, said in a whisper, “I will not desert you, Dick. There is a great prejudice just now against persons who are supposed to be bushrangers; therefore you
might
get into trouble if recognised. Meet me here this evening; I will bring you what you require.”

“Knowed you would: but I shall want another three hundred pounds.”

“It will be very difficult for me to procure so much. I will see what is to be done, however.”

“It is a good thing to have a friend who will help a poor devil with a little tin.”

“Hum! But I mean to see you off this time. Don't fail to meet me; and now, goodbye for the present.”

Mr Silverton went to his bankers. The stranger, apparently relying on his exertions, gave himself no trouble respecting the future, nor, to judge from the look of insouciance his countenance conveyed, respecting the past.

The generous disposition of Pierce Silverton had frequently been extolled by certain ladies, who go up and down begging contributions to bazaars, etc., but they would probably have been surprised at the excess of charity
,
which led him so effectually to aid a fellow creature in distress; especially if they beheld the present object, whose powerful frame was sufficient to indicate that he could very well help himself.

Dick, as he had been styled by Mr Silverton, was a man of middle height, of a square build, with features that might have been cast in an iron mould; the expression of his countenance, if not of absolute cruelty, was by no means engaging. In repose, it wore a look of utter indifference to all external circumstances; but in action, it was strangely energetic – the clenched teeth, the thin compressed lips, conveying an idea of great determination. The eye added an elevating character that might give an idea of either moral or intellectual worth; but all else was physical, such as befitted his pursuits, the most creditable of which had been that of a horse breaker. When compelling the wild animals to obedience, he would mutter between his teeth, “If you don't do what I choose, I know how to make you!” And this habitual expression was on his countenance, this phrase on his tongue, as the kind and benevolent Silverton went to procure him assistance!

“I should have thought you would have been more anxious to get away, Dick,” said that gentleman, when, at the stated hour, he returned to the Pier, and found his
protégé
carelessly seated, enjoying his pipe.

“When a man has no power to do a thing, there is no use in being anxious about it. I'm as helpless as a babe, Mr Silverton.”

Pierce could scarcely help laughing at this speech, coming as it did from one whose strength appeared to be almost herculean, but he simply replied, “I have got the money, and arranged about your passage. You will be safer and happier in England.”

“No objection to have a look at the old country, but I fancy it's a slow sort of a place for a fellow who has lived ten years in the bush.”

“Suppose you go to America;
that
is not a slow place.”

“Just what I was thinking! Any commands there, Mr Silverton? One good turn deserves another, you know.”

Pierce coloured a little at this remark and, after a short pause, replied, “No, thank you, not at present.”

Upon a post, near the place where they were standing was a placard similar to that which Harry Saunders had read on the gate of
The Southern Cross
. During the day it had attracted several observers and now – although the twilight rendered its characters somewhat indistinct – a host of idlers still lingered in its vicinity; one of whom, being an acquaintance of Mr Silverton, advanced towards him. Striking the placard with his cane, said, “Sad affair that, Pierce.”

“Sad indeed! It has caused the greatest consternation and regret throughout the district.”

“Consternation, no doubt, but McAlpin was not a man to be much regretted, I should think.”

“Well, he's dead, so let us forget his faults. I speak of him as a friend, for such he was to me.”

“That's all right, but a man's memory is the shadow of his life; and I, for one, confess to being more shocked than afflicted by this event. But who is that fellow who was talking to you just now?”

“An old servant of McAlpin's; he had placed his little savings in his care, and as McAlpin died without a will – and left no memorandum of the transaction – the poor fellow is hard up at present. We shall take care that he does not ultimately lose his money. But, as it is advisable to send someone after Mr Manners – one of Miss McAlpin's trustees – I am shipping off my friend there.”

“Apropos of Miss McAlpin, she'll be a great catch, won't she?” asked Mr Silverton's companion, whose thoughts naturally reverted to the heiress.

“I should think so; suppose you try your luck? But I must wish you good evening for the present; I shall be seeing you again before I leave town.”

The gentleman retired, and Mr Silverton again joined his humbler friend, accompanying him on board the vessel in which he was to embark, and making every arrangement for his comfort on the voyage.

On the following morning, Dick sailed for England in the
Robespierre
; and his kind patron, whose nerves had not recovered their wonted tone, resolved to take a trip in the same vessel as far as the Heads.

This was the advertisement of Mrs Garlick, a lady who endeavoured to unite two callings, rather incompatible with each other, viz – the education of young ladies, and the boarding and lodging of persons of the other sex. She did not find either speculation very paying; although the rent on her house was not high, nor the expenditure of her housekeeping very great, everything being done in the cheap and not extremely nice style. It is true that she was highly recommended, but what is the use of
recommending
people, as they generally like to judge for themselves?

A great many young men certainly did give Mrs Garlick's establishment a trial, but very few remained long with her. One, a mere youth who had been placed there by his guardian, said, “It was a humbugging sort of a shop, and he'd bolt.” Whereupon a little impetus was given to the usual routine, and something more appetising than bread and butter allowed for the evening meal.