by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XV.
On a certain morning in the middle of July the _Gaika_ with Ogilvie onboard entered the Brisbane River. He had risen early, as was hiscustom, and was now standing on deck. The lascars were still busywashing the deck. He went past them, and leaning over the taffrailwatched the banks of low-lying mangroves which grew on either side ofthe river. The sun had just risen, and transformed the scene. Ogilvieraised his hat, and pushed the hair from his brow. His face hadconsiderably altered, it looked worn and old. His physical health hadnot improved, notwithstanding the supposed benefit of a long seavoyage.
A man whose friendship he had made on board, and whose name wasHarding, came up just then, and spoke to him.
"Well, Ogilvie," he cried, "we part very soon, but I trust we may meetagain. I shall be returning to England in about three months from now.When do you propose to go back?"
"I cannot quite tell," answered Ogilvie. "It depends on how soon mywork is over; the sooner the better, as far as I am concerned."
"You don't look too well," said his friend. "Can I get anything foryou, fetch your letters, or anything of that sort?"
"I do not expect letters," was Ogilvie's answer; "there may be one ortwo cables. I shall find out at the hotel."
Harding said something further. Ogilvie replied in an abstractedmanner. He was thinking of Sibyl. It seemed to him that the littlefigure was near him, and the little spirit strangely in touch with hisown. Of all people in the world she was the one he cared least to givehis thoughts to just at that moment.
"And yet I am doing it for her," he muttered to himself. "I must gothrough with it; but while I am about it I want to forget her. My worklies before me--that dastardly work which is to stain my character andblemish my honor; but there is no going back now. Sibyl was unprovidedfor, and I have an affection of the heart which may end my days at anymoment. For her sake I had no other course open to me. Now I shall notallow my conscience to speak again."
He made an effort to pull himself together, and as the big linergradually neared the quay, he spoke in cheerful tones to hisfellow-passengers. Just as he passed down the gangway, and landed onthe quay, he heard a voice exclaim suddenly--
"Mr. Ogilvie, I believe?"
He turned, and saw a small, dapper-looking man, in white drill and acabbage-tree hat, standing by his side.
"That is my name," replied Ogilvie; "and yours?"
"I am Messrs. Spielmann's agent, and my name is Rycroft. I hadinstructions to meet you, and guessed who you were from thedescription given to me. I hope you had a good voyage."
"Pretty well," answered Ogilvie; "but I must get my luggage together.Where are you staying?"
"At the Waharoo Hotel. I took the liberty to book you a room. Shall wego up soon and discuss business; we have no time to lose?"
"As you please," said Ogilvie. "Will you wait here? I will returnsoon."
Within half an hour the two men were driving in the direction of thehotel. Rycroft had engaged a bedroom and private sitting-room forOgilvie. He ordered lunch, and, after they had eaten, suggested thatthey should plunge at once into business.
"That is quite to my desire," said Ogilvie. "I want to get what isnecessary through, in order to return home as soon as possible. It wasinconvenient my leaving England just now, but Lord Grayleigh made it acondition that I should not delay an hour in examining the mine."
"If he wishes to take up this claim, he is right," answered Rycroft,in a grave voice. "I may as well say at once, Mr. Ogilvie, that yourcoming out is the greatest possible relief to us all. The syndicateought to do well, and your name on the report is a guarantee ofsuccess. My proposal is that we should discuss matters a littleto-day, and start early to-morrow by the _Townville_ to Rockhampton.We can then go by rail to Grant's Creek Station, which is only eightmiles from the mine. There we can do our business, and finally returnhere to draw up the report."
"And how long will all this take?" asked Ogilvie.
"If we are lucky, we ought to be back here within a month."
"You have been over the mine, of course, yourself, Mr. Rycroft?"
"Yes; I only returned to Brisbane a week ago."
"And what is your personal opinion?"
"There is, beyond doubt, alluvial gold. It is a bit refractory, butthe washings panned out from five to six ounces to the ton."
"So I was told in England; but, about the vein underneath? Alluvial isnot dependable as a continuance. It is the vein we want to strike.Have you bored?"
"Yes, one shaft."
"Any result?"
"That is what your opinion is needed to decide," said his companion.As Rycroft spoke, the corners of his mouth hardened, and he lookedfixedly at Ogilvie. He knew perfectly well why Ogilvie had come fromEngland to assay the mine, and this last question took him somewhat bysurprise.
Ogilvie was silent. After a moment he jumped up impatiently.
"I may as well inquire for any letters or cables that are waiting forme," he said.
Rycroft lit his pipe and went out. He had never seen Philip Ogilviebefore, and was surprised at his general appearance, and also at hismanner.
"Why did they send him out?" he muttered. "Sensitive, and with aconscience: not the sort of man to care to do dirty work; but perhapsGrayleigh was right. If I am not much mistaken, he will do it all thesame."
"I shall make my own pile out of this," he thought. He returned to thehotel later on, and the two men spent the evening in anxiousconsultation. The next day they started for Rockhampton, and late inthe afternoon of the fourth day reached their destination.
The mine lay in a valley which had once been the bed of someprehistoric river, but was now reduced to a tiny creek. On eitherside towered the twin Lombard peaks, from which the mine was to takeits name. For a mile on either side of the creek the country wasfairly open, being dotted with clumps of briggalow throwing their darkshadows across the plain.
Beyond them, where the slope became steep, the dense scrub began. Thisclothed the two lofty peaks to their summits. The spot was abeautiful one, and up to the present had been scarcely desecrated bythe hand of man.
"Here we are," said Rycroft, "here lies the gold." He pointed to thebed of the creek. "Here is our overseer's hut, and he has engaged menfor our purpose. This is our hut, Ogilvie. I hope you don't mindsharing it with me."
"Not in the least," replied Ogilvie. "We shall not begin operationsuntil the morning, shall we? I should like to walk up the creek."
Rycroft made a cheerful answer, and Ogilvie started off alone. Hescarcely knew why he wished to take this solitary walk, for he knewwell that the die was cast. When he had accepted Lord Grayleigh'scheck for ten thousand pounds he had burnt his boats, and there was nogoing back.
"Time enough for repentance in another world," he muttered under hisbreath. "All I have to do at present is to stifle thought. It oughtnot to be difficult to go forward," he muttered, with a bitter smile,"the downhill slope is never difficult."
The work of boring was to commence on the following morning, and thecamp was made close to the water hole beneath some tall gum trees.Rycroft, who was well used to camping, prepared supper for the two.The foreman's camp was about a hundred yards distant.
As Ogilvie lay down to sleep that night he had a brief, sharp attackof the agony which had caused him alarm a couple of months ago. Itreminded him in forcible language that his own time on earth was inall probability brief; but, far from feeling distressed on thisaccount, he hugged the knowledge to his heart that he had provided forSibyl, and that she at least would never want. During the night whichfollowed, however, he could not sleep. Spectre after spectre of hispast life rose up before him in the gloom. He saw now that ever sincehis marriage the way had been paved for this final act of crime. Theextravagances which his wife had committed, and which he himself hadnot put down with a firm hand, had led to further extravagances on hispart. They had lived from the first beyond their means. Moneydifficulties had always dogged his footsteps, and now the only wayout wa
s by a deed of sin which might ruin thousands.
"But the child--the child!" he thought; something very like a sob roseto his lips. Toward morning, however, he forced his thoughts intoother channels, drew his blanket tightly round him, and fell into along, deep sleep.
When he awoke the foreman and his men were already busy. They began tobore through the alluvial deposit in several directions, and Ogilvieand Rycroft spent their entire time in directing these operations. Itwould be over a fortnight's work at least before Ogilvie could come toany absolute decision as to the true value of the mine. Day after daywent quickly by, and the more often he inspected the ore submitted tohim the more certain was Ogilvie that the supposed rich veins were amyth. He said little as he performed his daily task, and Rycroftwatched his face with anxiety.
Rycroft was a hard-headed man, troubled by no qualms of conscience,anxious to enrich himself, and rather pleased than otherwise at thethought of fooling thousands of speculators in many parts of theworld. The only thing that caused him fear was the possibility thatwhen the instant came, Ogilvie would not take the final leap.
"Nevertheless, I believe he will," was Rycroft's final comment;"men of his sort go down deeper and fall more desperately thanharder-headed fellows like myself. When a man has a conscience hisfall is worse, if he does fall, than if he had none. But why does aman like Ogilvie undertake this sort of work? He must have a motivehidden from any of us. Oh, he'll tumble safe enough when the momentcomes, but if he doesn't break his heart in that fall, I am muchmistaken in my man."
Four shafts had been cut and levels driven in many directions withdisappointing results. It was soon all too plain that the ores werepractically valueless, though the commencement of each lode lookedfairly promising.
After a little over a fortnight's hard work it was decided that it wasuseless to proceed.
"There is nothing more to be done, Mr. Ogilvie," said Rycroft, as thetwo men sat over their supper together. "For six months the alluvialwill yield about six ounces to the ton. After that"--he paused andlooked full at the grim, silent face of the man opposite him.
"After that?" said Ogilvie. He compressed his lips the moment heuttered the words.
Rycroft jerked his thumb significantly over his left shoulder by wayof answer.
"You mean that we must see this butchery of the innocents through,"said Ogilvie.
"I see no help for it," replied Rycroft. "We will start back toBrisbane to-morrow, and when we get there draw up the report; I hadbetter attend to that part of the business, of course under yoursuperintendence. We must both sign it. But first had we not bettercable to Grayleigh? He must have expected to hear from us before now.He can lay our cable before the directors, and then things can be putin train; the report can follow by the first mail."
"I shall take the report back with me," said Ogilvie.
"Better not," answered his companion, "best trust Her Majesty's mails.It might so happen that you would lose it." As Rycroft spoke a craftylook came into his eyes.
"Let us pack our traps," said Ogilvie, rising.
"The sooner we get out of this the better."
The next morning early they left the solitude, the neighborhood of thelofty peaks and the desecrated earth beneath. They reached Brisbane inabout four days, and put up once more at the Waharoo Hotel. There thereal business for which all this preparation had been made commenced.Rycroft was a past master in drawing up reports of mines, and Ogilvienow helped him with a will. He found a strange pleasure in doing hiswork as carefully as possible. He no longer suffered from qualms ofconscience. The mine would work really well for six months. Duringthat time the promoters would make their fortunes. Afterward--thedeluge. But that mattered very little to Ogilvie in his present stateof mind.
"If I suffer as I have done lately from this troublesome heart of mineI shall have gone to my account before six months," thought the man;"the child will be provided for, and no one will ever know."
The report was a plausible and highly colored one.
It was lengthy in detail, and prophesied a brilliant future forLombard Deeps. Ogilvie and Rycroft, both assayers of knowledge andexperience, declared that they had carefully examined the lodes, thatthey had struck four veins of rich ore yielding, after crushing, anaverage of six ounces to the ton, and that the extent and richness ofthe ore was practically unlimited.
They spent several days over this document, and at last it wasfinished.
"I shall take the next mail home," said Ogilvie, standing up after hehad read his own words for the twentieth time.
"Sign first," replied Rycroft. He pushed the paper across to Ogilvie.
"Yes, I shall go to-morrow morning," continued Ogilvie. "The _Sahara_sails to-morrow at noon?"
"I believe so; but sign, won't you?"
Ogilvie took up his pen; he held it suspended as he looked again athis companion.
"I shall take a berth on board at once," he said.
"All right, old chap, but sign first."
Ogilvie was about to put his signature to the bottom of the document,when suddenly, without the least warning, a strange giddiness,followed by intolerable pain, seized him. It passed off, leaving himvery faint. He raised his hand to his brow and looked around him in adazed way.
"What is wrong," asked Rycroft; "are you ill?"
"I suffer from this sort of thing now and then," replied Ogilvie,bringing out his words in short gasps. "Brandy, please."
Rycroft sprang to a side table, poured out a glass of brandy, andbrought it to Ogilvie.
"You look ghastly," he said; "drink."
Ogilvie raised the stimulant to his lips. He took a few sips, and thecolor returned to his face.
"Now sign," said Rycroft again.
"Where is the pen?" asked Ogilvie.
He was all too anxious now to take the fatal plunge. His signature,firm and bold, was put to the document. He pushed it from him andstood up. Rycroft hastily added his beneath that of Ogilvie's.
"Now our work is done," cried Rycroft, "and Her Majesty's mail doesthe rest. By the way, I cabled a brilliant report an hour back.Grayleigh seemed anxious. There have been ominous reports in some ofthe London papers."
"This will set matters right," said Ogilvie. "Put it in an envelope.If I sail to-morrow, I may as well take it myself."
"Her Majesty's mail would be best," answered Rycroft. "You can seeGrayleigh almost as soon as he gets the report. Remember, I amresponsible for it as well as you, and it would be best for it to goin the ordinary way." As he spoke, he stretched out his hand, took thedocument and folded it up.
Just at this moment there came a tap at the door. Rycroft cried, "Comein," and a messenger entered with a cablegram.
"For Mr. Ogilvie," he said.
"From Grayleigh, of course," said Rycroft, "how impatient he gets!Wait outside," he continued to the messenger.
The man withdrew, and Ogilvie slowly opened the telegram. Rycroftwatched him as he read. He read slowly, and with no apparent change offeature. The message was short, but when his eyes had travelled tothe end, he read from the beginning right through again. Then, withoutthe slightest warning, and without even uttering a groan, the flimsypaper fluttered from his hand, he tumbled forward, and lay in anunconscious heap on the floor.
Rycroft ran to him. He took a certain interest in Ogilvie, but aboveall things on earth at that moment he wanted to get the document whichcontained the false report safely into the post. Before he attemptedto restore the stricken man, he took up the cablegram and read thecontents. It ran as follows:--
_"Sibyl has had bad fall from pony. Case hopeless. Come home at once."_
"So Sibyl, whoever Sibyl may be, is at the bottom of Ogilvie's fall,"thought Rycroft. "Poor chap! he has got a fearful shock. Best make allsafe. I must see things through."
Without an instant's hesitation Rycroft took the already signeddocument, thrust it into an envelope, directed it in full and stampedit. Then he went to the telegraph messenger who was still waitingouts
ide.
"No answer to the cable, but take this at once to the post-office andregister it," he said; "here is money--you can keep the change."
The man departed on his errand, carrying the signed document.
Rycroft now bent over Ogilvie. There was a slightly blue tinge roundhis lips, but the rest of his face was white and drawn.
"Looks like death," muttered Rycroft. He unfastened Ogilvie's collarand thrust his hand beneath his shirt. He felt the faint, very faintbeat of the heart.
"Still living," he murmured, with a sigh of relief. He applied theusual restoratives. In a few moments Ogilvie opened his eyes.
"What has happened?" he said, looking round him in a dazed way. "Oh, Iremember, I had a message from London."
"Yes, old fellow, don't speak for a moment."
"I must get back at once; the child----"
"All right, you shall go in the _Sahara_ to-morrow."
"But the document," said Ogilvie, "it--isn't needed; I want it back."
"Don't trouble about it now."
Ogilvie staggered to his feet.
"You don't understand. I did it because--because of one who will notneed it. I want it back."
"Too late," said Rycroft, then. "That document is already in the post.Come, you must pull yourself together for the sake of Sibyl, whoevershe is."
