XIV
QUITS
For the second time that night Miles felt instinctively for hisrevolver, and for the second time in vain.
The younger man understood the movement.
"A shot would be heard in the road and at the lodge," said he quietly."You'll only hasten matters by shooting me."
At once Miles perceived his advantage; his adversary believed him to bearmed. Withdrawing his hand from the breast of his overcoat slowly, asthough relinquishing a weapon in the act of drawing it, he answered:
"I believe you are right. But you are a cool hand!"
"Perhaps."
"I have only seen one other as cool--under fire."
"Indeed?"
"A fact. But I'll tell you where you come out even stronger."
"Do."
"In playing the spy. There you shine!"
"Hardly," said Dick dryly, and this time he added a word or two: "or Ishould have shown you up some time since."
The two men faced one another, fair and square, but their attitudes werenot aggressive. Miles leant back against a tree with folded arms, andDick stood with feet planted firmly and hands in his pockets. A combatof coolness was beginning. The combatants were a man in whom thisquality was innate, and one who rose to it but rarely. In thesecircumstances it is strange that the self-possession of Dick was real tothe core, whilst that of the imperturbable Miles was for once affectedand skin-deep.
"Will you tell me," said Miles, "what you have heard? You may verypossibly have drawn wrong inferences."
"I heard all," Dick answered.
"All is vague; why not be specific?"
"I heard that--well, that that woman was your wife."
Miles felt new hope within him. Suppose he had heard no more than that!And he had not heard anything more--the thing was self-evident--or hewould not have spoken first of this--this circumstance which must beconfessed "unpleasant," but should be explained away in five minutes;this--what more natural?--this consequence of an ancient peccadillo,this bagatelle in comparison with what he might have learned.
"My dear sir, it is nothing but an infernal lie!" he cried with eagerconfidence; "she never was anything of the kind. It is the old story: ananthill of boyish folly, a mountain of blackguardly extortion. Can't yousee?"
"No, I can't," said Dick stolidly.
"Why, my good fellow, they have come over on purpose to bleed me--theysaid so. It's as plain as a pikestaff."
"That may be true, so far as the man is concerned."
"Don't you see that the woman is his accomplice? But now a word withyou, my friend. These are my private affairs that you have had theimpudence----"
"That was not all I heard," said Dick coldly.
Danger again--in the moment of apparent security.
"What else did you hear, then?" asked Miles, in a voice that was deepand faint at the same time.
"Who you are," replied Dick shortly. "Sundown the bushranger."
The words were pronounced with no particular emphasis; in fact, verymuch as though both sobriquet and calling were household words, andsufficiently familiar in all men's mouths. The bushranger heard themwithout sign or sound. Dick waited patiently for him to speak; but hewaited long.
It was a strange interview between these two men, in the dead of thissummer's night, in the heart of this public park. They were rivals inlove; one had discovered the other to be not only an impostor, but anotorious felon; and they had met before under circumstances the mostpeculiar--a fact, however, of which only one of them was now aware. Thenight was at the zenith of its soft and delicate sweetness. A gentlebreeze had arisen, and the tops of the slender firs were making circlesagainst the sky, like the mastheads of a ship becalmed; and the starswere shining like a million pin-pricks in the purple cloak of light. Atlast Miles spoke, asking with assumed indifference what Dick intended todo.
"But let it pass; of course you will inform at once!"
"What else can I do?" demanded Dick, sternly.
Miles scrutinised his adversary attentively and speculated whetherthere was the least chance of frightening such a man. Then he againthrust his hand into the breast of his overcoat, and answeredreflectively:
"You can die--this minute--if I choose."
Dick stood his ground without moving a muscle.
"Nonsense!" he said scornfully. "I have shown you that you can gainnothing by that."
Miles muttered a curse, and scowled at the ground, without, however,withdrawing his hand.
"The case stands thus," said Dick: "you have imposed on friends of mine,and I have found you--not a common humbug, as I thought all along--butquite a famous villain. Plainly speaking, a price is on your head."
Miles did not speak.
"And your life is in my hands."
Miles made no reply.
"The natural thing," Dick continued, "would have been to crawl away,when I heard who you were, and call the police. You see I have not donethat."
Still not a word.
"Another, and perhaps fairer, way would be to give you a fair start fromthis spot and this minute, and not say a word for an hour or two, untilpeople are about; the hare-and-hounds principle, in fact. But I don'tmean to do that either."
Miles raised his eyes, and at last broke his silence.
"You are arbitrary," he sneered. "May I ask what is the special qualityof torture you have reserved for me? I am interested to know."
"I shall name a condition," replied Dick firmly--"a singlecondition--on which, so far as I am concerned, you may impose on thepublic until some one else unmasks you."
"I don't believe you!"
"You have not heard my condition. I am in earnest."
"I wouldn't believe you on oath!"
"And why?"
"Because you owe me a grudge," said Miles, speaking rapidly--"because itis in your interest to see me go under."
"My condition provides for all that."
"Let me hear it, then."
"First tell me how you came to know the Bristos."
Miles gave Dick substantially the same story that he had already learnedfrom Alice.
"Now listen to me," said Dick. "Instead of squatter you were bushranger.You had been in England a day or two instead of a month or two, and youhad set foot in Sussex only; instead of masquerading as a fisherman youwore your own sailor's clothes, in which you swam ashore from yourship."
"Well guessed!" said Miles ironically.
"A cleverer thing was never done," Dick went on, his tone, for themoment, not wholly free from a trace of admiration. "Well, apart fromthat first set of lies, your first action in England was a good one.That is one claim on leniency. The account you have given me of it isquite true, for I heard the same thing from one whose lips, at least,are true!"
These last words forced their way out without his knowledge until heheard them.
"Ah!" said Miles.
An involuntary subdual of both voices might have been noticed here; itwas but momentary, and it did not recur.
Dick Edmonstone took his hands from his pockets, drew nearer to Miles,slowly beat his left palm with his right fist, and said:
"My condition is simply this: you are to go near the Bristos no more."
If this touched any delicate springs in the heart of Miles, theirworkings did not appear in his face. He made no immediate reply; when itcame, there was a half-amused ring in his speech:
"You mean to drive a hard bargain."
"I don't call it hard."
"All I possess is in that house. I cannot go far, as I stand; you mightas well give me up at once."
"I see," said Dick musingly. "No; you are to have an excellent chance. Ihave no watch on me: have you? No? Well, it can't be more than one now,or two at the latest, and they keep up these dances till dawn--or theyused to. Then perhaps you had better go back to the house now.Button-hole the Colonel; tell him you have had a messenger down fromtown--from your agent. You
can surely add a London agent to yourQueensland station and your house in Sydney! Well, affairs have gonewrong on this station of yours--drought, floods--anything you like; youhave received an important wire; you are advised, in fact, to start backto Queensland at once. At any rate, you must pack up your traps andleave Graysbrooke first thing in the morning. You are very sorry to becalled back so suddenly--they are sorrier still to lose you; butAustralia and England are so close now, you are sure to be over againsome day--and all the rest of it; but you are never to go near themagain. Do you agree?"
"What is the alternative?"
"Escape from here dressed like that if you can! You will breakfast ingaol. At best you will be hunted for a week or two, and then takenmiserably--there is no bush in England; whereas I offer you freedom withone restriction."
"I agree," said Miles, hoarsely.
"Very good. If you keep your word, Sundown the bushranger is at thebottom of the sea, for all I know; if you break it, Sundown thebushranger is a lost man. Now let us leave this place."
Dick led the way from the plantation, with his hands again deep in hispockets.
Miles followed, marvelling. Marvelling that he, who had terrorised halfAustralia, should be dictated to by this English whelp, and bear itmeekly; wondering what it all meant. What, to begin with, was themeaning of this masterly plan for an honourable exit? which was, infact, a continuation of his own falsehood. Why had not this youngfellow--who had every reason to hate him, independently of to-night'sdiscovery--quietly brought the police and watched him taken in coldblood? There would have been nothing underhand in that; it was, in fact,the only treatment that any criminal at large would expect at the handsof the average member of society--if he fell into those hands. Then whyhad not this been done? What tie or obligation could possibly existbetween this young Edmonstone and Sundown the Australian bushranger?
The night was at its darkest when they reached the avenue; so dark thatthey crossed into the middle of the broad straight road, where the waywas clearest. Straight in front of them burned the lamps of the gateway,like two yellow eyes staring through a monstrous crape mask. They seemedto be walking in a valley between two long, regular ranges of blackmountains with curved and undulating tops--only that the mountainswavered in outline, and murmured from their midst under the light touchof the sweet mild breeze.
They walked on in silence, and watched the deep purple fading slowly butsurely before their eyes, and the lights ahead growing pale and sickly.
Miles gave expression to the thought that puzzled him most:
"For the life of me, I can't make out why you are doing this" (heresented the bare notion of mercy, and showed it in his tone). "With youin my place and I in yours----"
Dick stopped in his walk, and stopped Miles also.
"Is it possible you do not know me?"
"I have known you nearly a month," Miles answered.
"Do you mean to say you don't remember seeing me before--before thislast month?"
"Certainly, when first I met you, I seemed to remember your voice; butfrom what I was told about you I made sure I was mistaken."
"Didn't they tell you that at one time, out there I was hawking?"
"No. Why, now--"
"Stop a bit," said Dick, raising his hand. "Forget that you are here;forget you are in England. Instead of these chestnuts, you're in themallee scrub. The night is far darker than this night has ever been: theplace is a wilderness. You are lying in wait for a hawker's wagon. Thehawkers drive up; you take them by surprise, and you're three to two.They are at your mercy. The younger one is a new chum from England--amere boy. He has all the money of the concern in his pocket, and nothingto defend it with. He flings himself unarmed upon one of your gang, and,but for you, would be knifed for his pains. You save him by an inch; butyou see what maddens him--you see he has the money. You take it fromhim. The money is all the world to him: he is mad: he wants to be killedoutright. You only bind him to the wheel, taking from him all he has. Sohe thinks, and death is at his heart. But he finds that, instead oftaking it all, you have left it all; you have been moved by compassionfor the poor devil of a new chum! Well, first he cannot believe hiseyes; then he is grateful; then senseless."
Miles scanned the young man's face in the breaking light. Yes, heremembered it now; it had worn this same passionate expression then. Hisown face reflected the aspect of the eastern sky; a ray was breaking inupon him, and shedding a new light on an old action, hidden away in adark corner of his mind. A thing that had been a little thing until nowseemed to expand in the sudden warmth of this new light. Miles felt anodd, unaccountable sensation, which, however, was not altogetheroutside his experience: he had felt it when he pulled Colonel Bristofrom the sea, and in the moment of parting with his coat to ahalf-perishing tramp.
Dick continued:
"Stop a minute--hear the end. This new chum, fresh from 'home,' wassuccessful. He made a fortune--of a sort. It might have been double whatit is had he been in less of a hurry to get back to England." Dicksighed. "Whatever it is, it was built on that hundred which you took andrestored: that was its nucleus. And therefore--as well as because yousaved his life--this new chum, when no longer one, never forgot Sundownthe bushranger; he nursed a feeling of gratitude towards him which wasprofound if, as he had been assured, illogical. Only a few hours ago hesaid, 'If he came within my power I should be inclined to give him achance,' or something like that." Dick paused; then he added: "Now youknow why you go free this morning."
Miles made no immediate remark. Bitter disappointment and hungryyearning were for the moment written clearly on his handsome, recklessface. At last he said:
"You may not believe me, but when you came to me--down there on thelawn--that's what I was swearing to myself; to begin afresh. And seewhat has come to me since then!" he added, with a harsh laugh.
"Just then," returned Dick, frankly, "I should have liked nothing betterthan to have seen you run in. I followed you out with as good a hate asone man can feel towards another. You never thought of my following youout here? Nor did I think of coming so far; by the bye, the--your wifemade it difficult for me; she was following too. Yes, I hated yousufficiently; and I had suspected you from the first--but not for whatyou are; when I heard Jem Pound say your name I was staggered, my brainwent reeling, I could scarcely keep from crying out."
"Did you recognise him?"
"Pound? No: I thought him a detective. He is a clever fellow."
"He is the devil incarnate!"
They had passed through the gates into the road.
"Here we separate," said Dick. "Go back to Graysbrooke the way you came,and pack your things. Is there any need to repeat--"
"None."
"You understand that if you break it, all's up with you?"
"I have accepted that."
"Then we are quits!"
"I like your pluck--I liked it long ago," said Miles, speaking suddenly,after staring at Dick for more than a minute in silence. "I was thinkingof that new chum hawker awhile ago, before I knew you were he. Youreminded me of him. And I ought to have known then; for I was neverspoken to the same, before or since, except then and now. No one elseever bargained with Sundown! Well, a bargain it is. Here's my hand onit."
As he spoke, he shook Edmonstone by the hand with an air of good faith.Next moment, the two men were walking in opposite directions.
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