Ghost Stories and Mysteries. Ernest Favenc
with her, meant nothing serious, and all the many hints you can imagine. I am convinced now that this was nothing else but lies from beginning to end. Father Carroll, who was much respected in the neighborhood, knew too much of her to talk in that strain; repentance was the subject he would be most likely to choose for his homily. I confounded him just now, for if his name had not been introduced I do not think I should have been worked upon like I was. How I could have been such a mad infatuated fool is incredible to me now. But I was only a boy, and she and the devil had regularly ensnared me. I had a little money, not much; rumor had greatly magnified it, and they thought they had a prize. Anyhow, to make short work of it I married her that day week. I left the cottage immediately after the priest had married us, and hastened home to prepare a place to take my wife to. When within two miles of home I met a man on horseback. He pulled up at we came together, and I recognised a young fellow who had left the station shortly after I arrived on it.
“I was looking for you,” he said. “They told me I should find you down at old Delaney’s. I am looking for some horses of mine that are running down this way. Mr. Morgan (the superintendent) told me that you knew where they were running.”
I was in a hurry, but the horses were no distance away I knew, so I turned off to show him the place. He commenced asking me about the people in the neighborhood as we went along; he said that he had been in Queensland ever since he left the station, and only came back two or three days ago.
“You have been down seeing the Delaney, girls,” he went on to say; “how is Mrs. Morgan?”
“Mrs. Morgan,” I said. “I don’t know her.”
“Why Mary Delaney, of course. Did you not know that she consented to be Mrs. Morgan for six months or more? She might have become Mrs. Morgan in reality, for she was making a regular fool of him, but old Bloomfield in Sydney heard of it, and he saw that he had either to lose her or his billet, so he sent her away. That is not the first trial she has had of married life, and her sisters, I suppose, are running the same track. They say that you are down there pretty often.”
“He had scarcely finished speaking when we caught sight of his horses, and he started after them, leaving me to meditate on the pleasant piece of information he had just imparted to me.
“I did not do anything sudden or rash, but rode quietly home. Next morning I left the district, never to return. I wrote to her a letter I do not think she would forget very easily, and have made her an allowance—as much as I could afford—ever since, on condition that she never called herself by my name or attempted to join me. She consented perforce, for I went to New Zealand, and remained there for three years.”
“Have you heard of her lately; are you sure your information was correct?” said Starr, after a pause.
“I have; and her conduct since my departure fully comes up to, nay exceeds, the character I heard of her.”
There was a pause of some minutes, during which the regular breathing of the sleeper outside could be heard.
Jackson’s attention was attracted by it.
“Who is he?” he said, in an undertone to Harris, indicating the object of his remark by a move of the head.
“I don’t know; I only met him a day or two ago, and we travelled down together. He says that he has been in the army.”
“Looks more like a skittle-sharper,” said Starr, rudely.
“Don’t be spiteful now, because he won when you played off!”
“Not I, but I saw something that you fellows didn’t see. The stakes were not worth making a noise or a scene about, but the cards know him as well as he knows them.”
“What! Did he cheat?” said Harris, turning as red as fire.
“Something very like it.”
“Confound him forever. To think of my having brought him here. Old Fitzpatrick introduced him to me; he seems to have been educated, and I supposed that he was as good as most of the other men you meet. “
“Of course, Harris, it is impossible to know what a man is from just riding along a road with him. Good night,” he went on, shaking hands, “we shall have breakfast at sunrise to-morrow, but you need not get up unless you are going to start early too.”
“I am off the first thing,” replied Jackson. “And Harris, of course you will come to my place to-morrow?”
“Yes. But I have a good mind to wake Mr. Haughton up, and tell him something that will stop him from proceeding with us to-morrow. I feel almost as though I had been found out doing something dirty myself.”
“Oh, nonsense,” said Starr, “it is not worth speaking about; only don’t play at cards with him any more.”
By sunrise next morning breakfast had been despatched, and the horses were ready, saddled. Haughton complained of an attack of fever, and declined any breakfast. Starr and Jackson bade him good morning, and made some ordinary remarks.
Harris stalked by him like a muzzled tiger past a shin of beef.
Haughton took no notice of his changed behaviour, though it was open enough. He said that he would ride slowly and overtake them in an hour or two if he felt better.
The station was soon tenanted by the cook and stockman only. Haughton’s horses were in the yard, and about an hour after the others had left, the men saw Haughton catch and saddle them, then ride away along the same road taken by Jackson and Harris.
They had pushed on, and by three o’clock arrived at Jackson’s station, Glenmore. Harris was easily persuaded to stop the next day, the station of which he was superintent being only fifteen miles distant
“Mr. Haughton does not seem to be showing up,” he said, as he was preparing to start the following morning.
“No, he could not help noticing your behaviour towards him. I will be down your way in a day or two—good bye.”
Chapter II
On the second day after Harris’ arrival at home, Jackson rode up to the station, a black boy following him. Harris came out to meet him, and was immediately struck by the gray expression of his friend’s face.
“Why, Jackson, you look serious enough for half-a-dozen parsons; what is the matter?”
“Starr has been murdered,” returned Jackson, shortly.
“Good God! You can’t mean it”
But Jackson’s face assured him that he did mean it.
“He was found dead at Yorick’s Lagoon, shot through the head. Here is his black boy, Dick, who found the body.”
Harris turned to the boy.
“Mr. Starr been killed?”
“Yöi; ben shootem here,” touching the top of his head.
“Had he been robbed too, Jackson?”
“There were no tracks of any other horse but his own within two miles of the place; no signs of a struggle, and his body appeared to be untouched by anybody after falling.”
“And the gold?”
“No gold was found upon him. Some papers, two or three £1-notes, and some loose silver, were all the articles of value on his person. His horse was found with a mob of station horses, but without the valise, which Dick says was on the saddle when he left the Blatherskyte diggings. This is all I can learn from Dick. If you can come we will start back at once. An inquest will be held to-morrow or the day after; Williams has gone up to Blatherskyte.”
All that was elucidated at the inquest was, that on Monday, the 24th of January, James Starr had left Blatherskyte diggings alone, leaving a stockman named Williams and the black boy, Dick, to come on slowly. He was not again seen alive by anybody then present. Williams stated: That he was a stockman in the employ of the deceased; assisted him to drive a mob of fat cattle to Blatherskyte; that