Force and Fraud (16 page)

“Don't know; I didn't ask her. but Bessie, my dear girl, where
is
the snuff-box?”

“Sold it, I tell you. How troublesome you can become when you like. If you wanted the box, you should have come earlier.”

“I
was
coming, but a friend kept me in conversation; and I wish he had been at Hong Kong.”

“Because he prevented that very elegant purchase. There's some mystery about this old box, and I'll find out; see if I don't.”

Mr Silverton turned pale, and taking a flacon of eau de Cologne from the stall, he applied it to his nose, and sprinkled his fingers, abusing the weather all the time. Miss Bessie, however, took care to make him pay five shillings for the loss her property had sustained – a piece of extortion to which the gentleman submitted without murmuring. Then, having apparently forgotten all about the snuff-box, he invited the young lady to partake of ices at the refreshment stall.

Very agreeable did Pierce Silverton make himself, for he likewise treated the other two sisters to ices; bought a pineapple, a quantity of peaches, plum cake and about a pound weight of the most delicious French
bon bons
. He then paraded through the room with the fair Bessie, which ceremony being concluded, they ascended the staircase, walked along the gallery, went on to the balcony, and made themselves rather conspicuous. No one could imagine that Mr Silverton cared anything about Flora McAlpin; in fact, he almost denied the soft impeachment to Bessie Garlick, who, poor girl, felt happy once more, and deeply penitent for her theft of the snuff-box.

When they had sufficiently enjoyed the hot wind from the top of the building – had almost succeeded in blistering their feet by treading on half molten lead, had contemplated the rising column of dust, and experienced a few other delights, peculiar to the city of Melbourne, the thermometer being at 90° in the shade, and no one knows what in the sun – they again descended, and went in search of a cool place, which was only to be found
relatively speaking.

Mr Silverton immediately suggested lemonade and sandwiches, and Miss Bessie gratefully accepted the offer; that of his hand would have been more welcome still, but who knows what
may
follow?

“Oh, you are too generous! I really cannot allow you to spend so much money,” exclaimed Bessie, on seeing him invest a £5 note in a few trifles for herself and her sisters.

“Nonsense; I don't go to bazaars every day, and I am determined you shall not forget
this
one.”

And Bessie never did.

But Mr Silverton was subjected to other penalties, as a deputation of ladies from all quarters waited on him, to request he would
put in
to some half-score raffles. And then he was compelled to make another
tour
of the bazaar (always accompanied by Bessie Garlick), for a great many things still remained to be done. He had not yet tried his fate at the wheel of fortune, or drawn from the lucky-bag; the little pasteboard witch had not yet pointed her wand to the magic circle on which
his
destiny was written; and, owing to some unspeakable cause, the fair post-mistress had not forwarded his letters; a neglect speedily amended, as a dozen epistles now came showering in. At length, all duties being complied with, Mr Silverton took his departure, with his purse considerably lighter, however his heart might be.

 

Whilst Flora McAlpin was exerting herself in the metropolis to save her lover, the friends she had left were no less active. Too much zeal, however, is sometimes as injurious to a cause as too much apathy; and in this way, the position of Herbert Lindsey was rendered still more precarious by the extreme anxiety of one of his warmest adherents.

We have already remarked that Mrs Roberts had become very feverish from the injury her ankle had sustained, as well as from the excitement produced by other causes; and scarcely did the coach in which Miss McAlpin travelled towards Melbourne leave the courtyard of the hotel, ere Mr Garlick was summoned to exercise his professional skill.

The young surgeon being unwilling to undertake the responsibility of the case alone, requested that Dr McDare might be called in. This was done, and happily by the joint efforts of the two practitioners, Mrs Roberts was soon pronounced convalescent. A refreshingly cool breeze had sprung up, which, after several days of excessive heat, was doubly grateful, and produced a most salutary effect; so, excepting a little lameness, it was hoped that the sufferer would be as well as ever.

Meantime her attendants, having been greatly alarmed, had bustled about in a nervous manner; sometimes raising the invalid in her bed, sometimes shaking up her pillow, but generally doing quite as much harm as good. A great deal more of the latter, in one instance, for they contrived to drag the little silk necktie from its hiding place; and (no one knew how) in the course of time, it found its way to the quarters of the police.

The next morning a couple of these gentlemen waited on Mr Roberts, to inform him that it was their painful duty to arrest his wife as an accessory with Herbert Lindsey in the murder of the late Angus McAlpin.

Mr Roberts started with surprise, swore with anger, and told the officers to go to a warmer place than
The Southern Cross
which they did
not
– at least, just then – but, on the contrary, declared they would not stir until Mrs Roberts obeyed the summons. At length, and with some difficulty, bail was admitted as, according to the doctor's certificate, a removal would certainly endanger the life of the invalid.

The good lady was therefore allowed to recover a little, and was then informed of the whole affair. Being still unable to attend on the justice, a magistrate, (not O'Twig), vouchsafed to attend on
her
. She could not deny that she had herself found the necktie near the spot where McAlpin's body had been discovered.

“But,” she added, with the ready repartee of her nation, “if he had been killed
then,
I should have seen
him
too; so I don't know why you have come here bothering me.”

She was reminded that there was a dense mass of scrub on that part of the plain, on one side of which the dead man might have been lying, whilst she was tripping along on the other. And then she was asked, “What might be your motive in taking up the necktie?”

“Just to get it cleaned for the poor gentleman,” she replied; adding that she was going to send it to Melbourne, to the dyers, along with a silk dress of her own.

Here Mrs Roberts burst into tears, and the doctor, asserting his authority, induced the magistrate to withdraw.

Many persons who had hitherto maintained the innocence of Herbert Lindsey, now felt their belief staggered. Mr Roberts himself looked grave but, although annoyed at the idea of his wife being dragged forward, said, “Perhaps Lindsey can account for the silk necktie, as he did for the handkerchief and the bowie knife.”

“He has
not
accounted for them yet. Nobody believes that yarn about the bushman and his dog,” said a bystander.

And thus events seemed to be veering from bad to worse. The gay temperament of Mrs Roberts, however, was not entirely overcome, as she had still faith in the prisoner's innocence; and faith, even in
man,
gives us strength, at least till proved to be vain.

But the character of our hostess was not extremely equable, and she became very irritable on the subject of the article discovered in her possession; the more so when some official thought fit to appropriate the drawer itself, and after formally demanding the key, ransacked its contents in her presence. A strange medley he found. “Odds and ends,” as she expressed it herself. “Things just thrown in to be out of the way.”

There were sundry ornaments, more or less out of repair.
Here
– a bracelet, composed of pieces of jet, strung together on an elastic cord, which having given way, the bracelet was for the present useless.
There
– a brooch, minus a pin, and farther on, a pin, minus a brooch; a smelling-bottle without a stopper; a Chinese fan in tatters; a piece of red flannel, which had evidently been tied around a swollen face; a small bottle of laudanum and a few scraps of cotton wool; two broken locks, and six or seven keys; a pack of cards, at least that portion of a pack employed by Mrs Roberts in the cabalistic art of fortune telling; a pot of pomatum, some hair-pins, and a package of tin tacks; several remnants of faded ribbon; a knot of white tape; a bunch of curtain rings; a hank of grey thread. In short, a large assortment of such articles as are usually deposited in a
Rubbish Drawer.

“Bad cess to ye for rummaging my things in that way. If I'd known I'd have put a good branch of prickly pear amongst them, and spoilt those fingers of yours, my boy,” cried the indignant lady to the zealous official.

Had she then conjured up a portion of the delectable shrub which caused the policeman to wring his hand in apparent agony? No, it was merely a large carpet needle run through the skein of thread.

“Can't compliment you on the neatness of your drawer, madam,” said the wounded man.

“Take that, and see if it will improve the neatness of your hair, my beauty,” cried the amazon, flinging one of the pillows of her easy chair at the head of the spy; and adding, as he retired with the confiscated repository, “Neatness, indeed! Who ever heard of neatness in a Rubbish Drawer?”

 

It was true that a great many people doubted the existence of the bushman whom Herbert Lindsey asserted he had met, as though it is no unusual occurrence for a traveller to cross these vast plains without encountering a single human being yet it was asked, by way of argument, “If, on that day, other persons
had been met,
why should not the bushman have been met too? Or, if so, only by Mr Lindsey himself?”

And thus, from not having been
seen,
the bushman's very existence became dubious, and he was beginning to be regarded as a
myth,
his dog being equally unsubstantial.

“This bushman would prove a most important witness in our case,” said Miss McAlpin's solicitor one day to her when she was giving him some additional evidence. Flora said she would offer any reward that might lead to the discovery of the man.

“We will advertise in all the leading country papers, as well as in those of South Australia and New South Wales; and, to facilitate the matter, the notices shall be printed both in English and in Gaelic,” replied the lawyer.

That evening the advertisements were sent to all the Melbourne newspapers, and, the next day, to the up-country papers, and likewise to those of the adjacent colonies.

After this step. Flora felt a new hope dawn within her, but her solicitor kept his opinion to himself; a reserve not maintained by Mr Lindsey's country friends, who nevertheless eagerly read the advertisements. Very welcome they were at that moment, for there was nothing particular going on in the district – neither land sale nor county court; no, not even a ploughing match; nor was there any matter of public interest anticipated till the assizes – and then…

“Then
we shall see whether that bushman will turn up,” cried one. “Who, to
believe,
we
must first see.”

“Bushman or no bushman, I think it will be very hard if poor Lindsey is to suffer because a man
cannot
or
will not
come forward to give him a help,” said a truer friend of the prisoner.

“I don't say Lindsey ought to suffer, but I like to see a thing sifted to the bottom,” replied the first speaker.

The scene where this discussion took place was an apartment in
The Southern Cross
we have not yet visited. Don't object to the locale
,
good reader, because nearly everything done or talked of in that township, was done or talked of in the hotel conducted by Jonathan Roberts and his wife Judith.

So, if you please, I will introduce you to the public-room, which we shall have no difficulty in finding, for we have only to follow our noses; and it is to be presumed that a few years residence in Victoria has sufficiently familiarised us with the odour of the plant which added to the fame of Sir Walter Raleigh.

A very good specimen of its kind is the public-room of
The Southern Cross
; of ample dimensions in length, breadth, and height, well ventilated, and lighted by two large windows, furnished with strong Venetian shutters, and curtains of dark green stuff. At the extreme end is a capacious hearth, filled with huge logs which, even in summer, owing to the size of the room and its shady aspect, are either lighted or merely require the aid of a match. Above the high mantelpiece in a glass whose frame is covered by a yellow mosquito net. On the mantelpiece itself stands a clock and a few vases, the latter being chiefly used as depositories for matches or pieces of twisted paper; around these a considerable space is reserved as a temporary resting place for pipes and cigars.

At the farther end of the room is a large horsehair sofa, and, in different directions, are clusters of round-backed chairs, some seated with cane, others with wood, and a few small tables are interspersed with these. Down the centre of the apartment is one longer and more substantial table, covered with oilcloth and on it are placed during the day – and till an advanced period of the night – sundry trays and glasses; to replenish which affords constant occupation for one waiter. An oilcloth is on the floor, and in various places are objects of either brass or painted tin; not very elegant, but essential to a public room, and moreover demonstrating a certain amount of logic, inasmuch as if pipes are the
cause,
these said objects are the result.

Don't be cross, good reader, with this description, which I admit is not very refined, and be pleased to remember that it does not refer to either Parisian salon, or English flower-garden, but to a public room in a country hotel; which, take it for all in all, is quite as good as anything of its kind in Great Britain or Ireland.