by Guy Boothby
Produced by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
The Childerbridge Mystery
By Guy Boothby,
_Author of_ "_Dr. Nikola_," "_A Millionaire's Love Story_," "_The Curseof the Snake_," _etc., etc., etc._
London F. V. White & Co., Ltd. 1902
Contents
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
The Childerbridge Mystery
CHAPTER I
One had only to look at William Standerton in order to realise that hewas, what is usually termed, a success in life. His whole appearancegave one this impression; the bold unflinching eyes, the square,resolute chin, the well-moulded lips, and the lofty forehead, showed adetermination and ability to succeed that was beyond the ordinary.
The son of a hardworking country doctor, it had fallen to his lot toemigrate to Australia at the early age of sixteen. He had not a friendin that vast, but sparsely-populated, land, and was without influence ofany sort to help him forward. When, therefore, in fifty years' time, hefound himself worth upwards of half-a-million pounds sterling, he wasable to tell himself that he owed his good fortune not only to his ownindustry, but also to his shrewd business capabilities. It is true thathe had had the advantage of reaching the Colonies when they were intheir infancy, but even with this fact taken into consideration, his wascertainly a great performance. He had invested his money prudently, andthe rich Stations, and the streets of House Property, were the result.
Above all things, William Standerton was a kindly-natured man. Successhad not spoilt him in this respect. No genuine case of necessity everappealed to him in vain. He gave liberally, but discriminatingly, and inso doing never advertised himself.
Strange to say, he was nearly thirty years of age before he evencontemplated matrimony. The reason for this must be ascribed to the factthat his life had been essentially an active one, and up to that time hehad not been brought very much into contact with the opposite sex. When,however, he fell in love with pretty Jane McCalmont--then employed as agoverness on a neighbouring Property--he did so with an enthusiasm thatamply made up for lost time.
She married him, and presented him with two children--a boy and a girl.Within three months of the latter's arrival into the world, the motherlaid down her gentle life, leaving her husband a well nighbroken-hearted man. After her death the years passed slowly by withalmost monotonous sameness. The boy James, and the girl Alice, in duecourse commenced their education, and in so doing left their childhoodbehind them. Their devotion to their father was only equalled by hislove for them. He could scarcely bear them out of his sight, and enteredinto all their sports, their joys and troubles, as if he himself were achild once more.
It was not, however, until James was a tall, handsome young fellow offour-and-twenty, and Alice a winsome maid of twenty, that he arrived atthe conclusion that his affairs no longer needed his personalsupervision, and that he was at liberty to return to the Mother Country,and settle down in it, should he feel disposed to do so.
"It's all very well for you young folk to talk of my leaving Australia,"he said, addressing his son and daughter; "but I shall be like a fishout of water in the Old Country. You forget that I have not seen her forhalf-a-century."
"All the more reason that you should lose no time in returning, father,"observed Miss Alice, to whom a visit to England had been the oneambition of her life. "You shall take us about and show us everything;the little village in which you were born, the river in which you usedto fish, and the wood in which the keeper so nearly caught you with therabbit in your pocket. Then you shall buy an old-fashioned country houseand we'll settle down. It will be lovely!"
Her father pinched her shapely little ear, and then looked away acrossthe garden to where a railed enclosure was to be seen, on the crest of aslight eminence. He remembered that the woman lying there had more thanonce expressed a hope that, in the days then to come, they would be ableto return to their native country together, and take their children withthem.
"Well, well, my dear," he said, glancing down at the daughter who somuch resembled her mother, "you shall have it your own way. We will goHome as soon as possible, and do just as you propose. I think we may beable to afford a house in the country, and perhaps, that is if you are avery dutiful daughter, another in London. It is just possible that theremay be one or two people living who may remember William Standerton,and, for that reason, be kind to his son and daughter. But I fear itwill be rather a wrench for me to leave these places that I have builtup with my own hands, and to which I have devoted such a large portionof my life. However, one can be in harness too long, and when onceAustralia is left behind me, I have no doubt I shall enjoy my holiday asmuch as any one else."
In this manner the matter was settled. Competent and trustworthymanagers were engaged, and the valuable properties, which hadcontributed so large a share to William Standerton's wealth, were handedover to their charge.
On the night before they were to leave Mudrapilla, their favourite andlargest station, situated on the Darling River, in New South Wales,James Standerton, called Jim by his family and a multifarious collectionof friends, was slowly making his way along the left bank of the River.He had ridden out to say good-bye to the manager of the Out Station, andas his horse picked his way along the bank, he was thinking of England,and of what his life was to be there. Suddenly he became aware of a manseated beneath a giant gum tree near the water's edge. From the factthat the individual in question had kindled a fire and was boiling hisbilly, he felt justified in assuming that he was preparing his camp forthe night. He accordingly rode up and accosted him. The man was a FootTraveller, or Swagman, and presented a somewhat singular appearance.Though he was seated, Jim could see that he was tall, though sparselybuilt. His age must have been about sixty years; his hair was streakedwith grey, as also was his beard. Taken altogether his countenance wasof the description usually described as "hatchet-faced." He was dressedafter the swagman fashion, certainly no better, and perhaps a littleworse. Yet with it all he had the appearance of having once been inbetter circumstances. He looked up as Jim approached, and nodded a "goodevening." The latter returned the salutation in his customary pleasantfashion.
"How much further is it to the Head Station?" the man on the ground thenenquired.
"Between four and five miles," Jim replied. "Are you making your waythere?"
"That's my idea," the stranger answered. "I hear the owner is leavingfor England, and I am desirous of having a few words with him before hegoes."
"You know him then?"
"I've known him over thirty years," returned the other. "But he has goneup in the world while, as you will gather, I have done the opposite.Standerton was always one of Life's lucky ones; I am one of Herfailures. Anything _he_ puts his hand to prospers; while I, let it beever so promising, have only to touch a bit of business, and it goes topieces like a house of cards."
The stranger paused and took stock of the young man seated upon thehorse.
"Now I come to think of it," he continued, after having regarded Jimintently for some seconds, "you're not unlike Standerton yourself.You've got the same eyes and chin, and the same cut of mouth."
"It's very probable, for I am his son," Jim repli
ed. "What is it youwant with my father?"
"That's best known to myself," the stranger returned, with a surlinessin his tone that he had not exhibited before. "When you get home, justtell your governor that Richard Murbridge is on his way up the river tocall upon him, and that he will try to put in an appearance at theStation early to-morrow morning. I don't fancy he'll be best pleased tosee me, but I must have an interview with him before he leavesAustralia, if I have to follow him round the country to get it."
"You had better be careful how you talk to my father," said Jim. "If youare as well acquainted with him as you pretend to be, you should knowthat he is not the sort of man to be trifled with."
"I know him as well as you do," the other answered, lifting his billyfrom the fire as he spoke. "William Standerton and I knew each otherlong before you were born. If it's only the distance you say to the HeadStation, you can tell him I'll be there by breakfast time. I'm a bitfoot-sore, it is true, but I can do the journey in an hour and a-half.On what day does the coach pass, going South?"
"To-morrow morning," Jim replied. "Do you want to catch it?"
"It's very probable I shall," said Murbridge. "Though I wasn't born inthis cursed country, I'm Australian enough never to foot it when I canride. Good Heavens! had any one told me, twenty-five years ago, that Ishould eventually become a Darling Whaler, I'd have knocked, what Ishould have thought then to be the lie, down their throats. But what Iam you can see. Fate again, I suppose? However, I was always of ahopeful disposition, even when my affairs appeared to be at their worst,so I'll pin my faith on to-morrow. Must you be going? Well, in thatcase, I'll wish you good-night! Don't forget my message to your father."
Jim bade him good-night, and then continued his ride home. As he went hepondered upon his curious interview with the stranger he had just left,and while so doing, wondered as to his reasons for desiring to see hisfather.
"The fellow was associated with him in business at some time or another,I suppose?" he said to himself, "and, having failed, is now on his beamends and wants assistance. Poor old Governor, there are times when he iscalled upon to pay pretty dearly for his success in life."
James Standerton was proud of his father, as he had good reason to be.He respected him above all living men, and woe betide the individual whomight have anything to say against the sire in the son's hearing.
At last he reached the Home Paddock and cantered up the slope towardsthe cluster of houses, that resembled a small village, and surrenderedhis horse to a black boy in the stable yard. With a varied collection ofdogs at his heels he made his way up the garden path, beneath thetrellised vines to the house, in the broad verandah of which he couldsee his sister and father seated at tea.
"Well, my lad," said Standerton senior, when Jim joined them, "I supposeyou've seen Riddington, and have bade him good-bye. It's my opinion hewill miss you as much as any one in the neighbourhood. You two havealways been such friends."
"That's just what Riddington said," James replied. "He wishes he werecoming with us. Poor chap, he doesn't seem to think he'll ever seeEngland again."
Alice looked up from the cup of tea she was pouring out for her brother.
"I fancy there is more in poor Mr. Riddington's case than meets theeye," she said sympathetically. "Nobody knows quite why he left England.He is always very reticent upon that point. I cannot help thinking,however, that there was a lady in the case."
"There always is," answered her brother. "There's a woman in everymystery, and when you've found her it's a mystery no longer. By the way,father, as I was coming home, I came across a fellow camped up theriver. He asked me what the distance was to here, and said he was on hisway to see you. He will be here the first thing to-morrow morning."
"He wants work, I suppose?"
"No, I shouldn't say that he did," James replied. "He said that hewanted to see you on important private business."
"Indeed? I wonder who it can be? A swagman who has important privatebusiness with me is a _rara avis_. He didn't happen to tell you hisname, I suppose?"
"Yes, he did," Jim answered, placing his cup on the floor as he spoke."His name is Richard Murbridge, or something like it."
The effect upon the elder man was electrical.
"Richard Murbridge?" he cried. "Camped on the river and coming here?"
His son and daughter watched him with the greatest astonishment depictedupon their faces. It was not often that their father gave way to so muchemotion. At last with an effort he recovered himself, and, remarkingthat Murbridge was a man with whom he had had business in bygone days,and that he had not seen him for many years, went into the house.
"I wonder who this Murbridge can be?" said James to his sister, whenthey were alone together. "I didn't like the look of him, and if I werethe Governor, I should send him about his business as quickly aspossible."
When he had thus expressed himself, Jim left his sister and went off toenjoy that luxury so dear to the heart of a bushman after his day'swork, a swim in the river. He was some time over it, and when heemerged, he was informed that his presence was required at the Store.Thither he repaired to arbitrate in the quarrel of two Boundary Riders.In consequence, more than an hour elapsed before he returned to thehouse. His sister greeted him at the gate with a frightened look uponher face.
"Have you seen father?" she enquired.
"No," he answered. "Isn't he in the house?"
"He went down the track just after you left, riding old Peter, and as hepassed the gate he called to me not to keep dinner for him, as he didnot know how long it might be before he would be back. Jim, I believe heis gone to see that man you told him of, and the thought frightens me."
"You needn't be alarmed," her brother answered. "Father is quite able totake care of himself."
But though he spoke with so much assurance, in his own mind he was notsatisfied. He remembered that it had been his impression that theswagman bore his father a grudge, and the thought made him uneasy.
"Look here, Alice," he said, after he had considered the matter for sometime, "I've a good mind to go back along the track, and to bring theGovernor home with me. What do you think?"
"It would relieve me of a good deal of anxiety if you would," the girlreplied. "I don't like the thought of his going off like this."
Jim accordingly went to the end of the verandah, and called to thestables for a horse. As soon as the animal was forthcoming he mountedit, and set off in the direction his father had taken. It was now quitedark, but so well did he know it, that he could have found his way alongthe track blindfolded, if necessary. It ran parallel with the river, thehigh trees on the banks of which could be seen, standing out like ablack line against the starlit sky. He let himself out of the HomePaddock, passed the Woolshed, and eventually found himself approachingthe spot where Murbridge had made his camp. Then the twinkle of the firecame into view, and a few seconds later he was able to distinguish hisfather standing beside his grey horse, talking to a man who was lyingupon the ground near the fire. Not wishing to play the part of aneavesdropper, he was careful to remain out of earshot. It was only whenhe saw the man rise, heard him utter a threat, and then approach hisfather, that he rode up. Neither of the men became aware of his approachuntil he was close upon them, and then both turned in surprise.
"James, what is the meaning of this?" his father cried. "What are youdoing here, my lad?"
For a moment the other scarcely knew what reply to make. At last hesaid:--
"I came to assure myself of your safety, father. Alice told me you hadgone out, and I guessed your errand."
"A very dutiful son," sneered Murbridge. "You are to be congratulatedupon him, William."
James stared at the individual before him with astonishment. What righthad such a man to address his father by his Christian name?
"Be careful," said Standerton, speaking to the man before him. "You knowwhat I said to you just now, and you are also aware that I never breakmy word. Fail to keep _your_ part of the contract, and I
shall no longerkeep mine."
"You know that you have your heel upon my neck," the other retorted;"and also that I cannot help myself. But I pray that the time may comewhen I shall be able to be even with you. To think that I am trampingthis infernal country, like a dead beat Sundowner, without a cent in mypocket, while you are enjoying all the luxuries and happiness that lifeand wealth can give. It's enough to make a man turn Anarchist rightoff."
"That will do," said William Standerton quietly. "Remember thatto-morrow morning you will go back to the place whence you came; alsobear in mind the fact that if you endeavour to molest me, or tocommunicate with me, or with any member of my family, I will carry outthe threat I uttered just now. That is all I have to say to you."
Then Standerton mounted his horse, and turning to his son, said:--
"Let us return home, James. It is getting late, and your sister will beuneasy."
Without another word to the man beside the fire, they rode off, leavinghim looking after them with an expression of deadly hatred upon hisface. For some distance the two men rode in silence. Jim could see thathis father was much agitated, and for that reason he forbore to put anyquestion to him concerning the individual they had just left. Indeed itwas not until they had passed the Woolshed once more, and had halfcompleted their return journey that the elder man spoke.
"How much of my conversation with that man did you overhear?"
"Nothing but what I heard when Murbridge rose to his feet," Jamesreplied. "I should not have come near you had I not heard his threat andseen him approach you. Who is the man, father?"
"His name is Murbridge," said Standerton, with what was plainly aneffort. "He is a person with whom I was on friendly terms many yearsago, but he has now got into disgrace, and, I fear has sank very lowindeed. I do not think he will trouble us any more, however, so we willnot refer to him again."
All that evening William Standerton was visibly depressed. He excusedhimself from playing his usual game of cribbage with his daughter, onthe plea that he had a headache. Next morning, however, he was quitehimself. He went out to his last day's work in the bush as cheerfully ashe had ever done. But had any one followed him, he, or she, would havediscovered that the first thing he did was to ride to the spot whereRichard Murbridge had slept on the previous night. The camp wasdeserted, and only a thin column of smoke, rising from the embers of thefire, remained to show that the place had been lately occupied.
"He has gone, then," said Standerton to himself. "Thank goodness! But Iknow him too well to be able to assure myself that I have seen the lastof him. Next week, however, we shall put the High Seas between us, andthen, please God, I shall see no more of him for the remainder of myexistence."
At that moment the man of whom he was speaking, was tramping along thedusty track with a tempest of rage in his heart.
"He may travel wherever he pleases," he was muttering to himself, "buthe won't get away from me. He may go to the end of the world, and I'llfollow him and be at his elbow, just to remind him who I am, and of theclaims I have upon him. Yes, William Standerton, you may make up yourmind upon one point, and that is the fact that I'll be even with youyet!"