The Rider of Waroona. G. Firth Scott
was no such reserve with Mrs. Burke. She had not been twenty-four hours in Waroona before it was known that she was a young widow left with a stepson to bring up and educate on the rents from an impoverished Irish estate. Year by year it became more and more difficult, she said, to collect those rents from tenants to whom politics were more attractive than commercial obligations. Therefore, when a chance occurred for her to sell the estate, she did not hesitate to entertain it. But, in order that her stepson might still derive as much benefit as possible from the wreck of his ancestors' wealth, she determined, before selling, to seek in Australia a new heritage for the last of the Burkes.
Waroona Downs was suggested to her as the very place to suit her, and Gale at once offered it to her. The negotiations were rapidly completed, and the community was collectively rejoicing at the good fortune of having so desirable an acquisition as the handsome Irishwoman added to it when a miniature thunder-bolt fell in the form of the emphatic refusal of the owner to sell the property to a woman.
Following the advice of her many friends and admirers, Mrs. Burke took up her residence at the place so that she might claim the nine points of the law possession is said to give, while she handed to the bank the deeds of her Irish property, and against them the bank agreed to complete the purchase.
Popular opinion was entirely with the young widow, and popular opinion was strong enough to force Dudgeon back to the last resource. This was a demand that the purchase price of the station should be paid in gold.
The price was twenty-five thousand pounds and, as Dudgeon well knew, there was not such a quantity of coin to be found in the district, where it was the almost invariable practice to pay everything by cheque or order. He had preferred his demand formally; had waited for a reply that the bank was prepared to meet it and, as no such reply had reached him, was about to declare the matter at an end.
He drew up at the bank. Eustace, the manager, was speaking to his assistant as the old man entered.
"I've come for the money," he said abruptly, and stood by the counter, holding out his gnarled, bony hands.
"You mean the purchase money for Waroona Downs, Mr. Dudgeon?" Eustace replied suavely. "You are rather early, are you not?"
"I gave you notice three days ago. You'll pay over or the deal's off. Which is it?"
Harding, the assistant, passed a document to Eustace.
"These are the terms of the sale, Mr. Dudgeon," Eustace said in the same smooth tone. "The completion of the purchase is to be performed one month from the date on which the agreement to buy was made. Mrs. Burke agreed on the 20th of last month. To-day is the 17th. She has therefore three days before you can make your final demand."
Dudgeon grabbed the document and read it through. The wording was as Eustace had said. He had played his card too soon.
"I'll beat you yet," he cried as he flung the paper across the counter. "No matter what it costs, I'll never have a woman owning one of my properties. You're a lot of scheming scoundrels, but I'll beat you yet."
He bounced out and flogged his horse to a gallop as he drove away.
"If the head office had sent off the gold at once when I wired, it would have been here by now," Eustace said to his assistant.
"Then everyone would have known it was here, and there is no saying what might have happened," Harding jestingly answered. "Anyway, it is due to-night."
Later, when the bank had closed for the day, a light waggon drew up at the door with a couple of men in it.
"We've some books and boxes of stationery for you from the Wyalla branch," one of the men called out as Eustace opened the door and looked out.
A bushman slouching past with his roll of blankets slung across his back, glanced round at the waggon and continued his way to the hotel. Eustace and Harding both helped to carry the bundles and boxes into the bank. When they were all inside Eustace turned to the men.
"You'll have some dinner with us before you go back?" he asked.
"Can't, old chap. Head office orders. Don't know what sort of people the general manager thinks you've got in this part, but the strictest secrecy in everything were our instructions, so Ted and I are teamsters and nothing but teamsters till we get back to our own branch. So long, old chap."
"It does seem a lot of rot," Harding remarked when the waggon was away again.
"You haven't been here long enough to know old Dudgeon, Harding. Let us get the gold into the safe—we'll put it in the reserve recess. I only hope the old man comes in again to-morrow morning, so that we can pay it over and get clear of it and his business."
But the next day passed without any sign of Dudgeon, and after a last look round to see that all was right Eustace and Harding bade one another good night with the hope that on the morrow Dudgeon would come for his gold, though there was still another day before he could legally demand it.
CHAPTER II
THE RIDDLE
At five minutes to ten the following morning Eustace awakened to find the sunlight streaming into his room, the bank in absolute silence, and his head so light and dizzy he could scarcely stand when he sprang out of bed.
He glanced at the alarm clock on the mantelpiece. The alarm was set for six, the hour at which Eustace almost invariably awakened. He had no recollection of hearing it ring that morning, yet only a touch was required to show that it had gone off at the proper time.
His wife still lay in deepest slumber.
"Jess! Jess!" he cried, as he shook her. "Wake up, Jess! It's nearly ten o'clock. Wake up! Wake up!"
She stirred heavily, uneasily, drowsily.
"Wake up! Wake up!" he repeated. "Look what time it is."
She sat up with a gasp, pressing her hands to her head.
"Oh, what is it?" she exclaimed. "My head! How it throbs!"
"It's nearly ten o'clock," Eustace cried. "I don't hear anyone moving. The bank must be open in five minutes."
He hurried across the landing to his assistant's room and unceremoniously opened the door.
His assistant was in bed in a heavy sleep.
"Harding! Fred! Wake up, man! Do you know what time it is?" he said, as he grabbed the sleeper's arm and shook him so vigorously that he pulled him half out of bed.
Sleepily Harding's eyelids lifted to reveal glazed and lack-lustre eyes.
"What's up?" he mumbled. "What's the matter now?"
"Look at the time," Eustace cried excitedly.
Harding pushed his hand under his pillow, raised himself on his arm and flung the pillow over.
"Where's my watch?" he exclaimed. "Where has it gone?"
"Don't you hear me say it is nearly ten o'clock? What on earth do you mean by sleeping to this hour when the bank ought to be open?"
Harding blinked at his pyjama-clad manager.
"You don't seem to have been up so very long," he grumbled. "But where's my jolly watch gone? I'll swear I put it under my pillow last night. Are you having a joke? Have you hidden it?"
"I have not touched your watch. I tell you it's ten o'clock and the bank——"
"Then someone has stolen it," Harding exclaimed as he sat up.
The pupils of Eustace's eyes contracted