Colonel Thorndyke's Secret

  CHAPTER VI.

  While arranging for young Bastow being sent out with the first batch ofconvicts John Thorndyke had been introduced to several of the officialsof the Department, and called upon them at intervals to obtain news ofthe penal colony. Three years after its establishment a Crown colony hadbeen opened for settlement in its vicinity. As the climate was said tobe very fine and the country fertile, and land could be taken up withoutpayment, the number who went out was considerable, there being theadditional attraction that convicts of good character would be allottedto settlers as servants and farm hands.

  Six years after Arthur Bastow sailed the Squire learned that therehad been a revolt among the convicts; several had been killed, and themutiny suppressed, but about a dozen had succeeded in getting away.These had committed several robberies and some murders among thesettlers, and a military force and a party of warders from the prisonwere scouring the country for them.

  "Of course, Mr. Thorndyke," the official said, "the Governor in hisreport does not gives us the names of any of those concerned in thematter; he simply says that although the mutiny was general, it waswholly the work of a small number of the worse class of prisoners. Byworse class he means the most troublesome and refractory out there.The prisoners are not classified according to their original crimes.A poacher who has killed a game keeper, or a smuggler who has killeda revenue officer, may in other respects be a quiet and well conductedman, while men sentenced for comparatively minor offenses may give animmense deal of trouble. I will, however, get a letter written to theGovernor, asking him if Arthur Bastow was among those who took part inthe revolt, and if so what has become of him."

  It was more than a year before the reply came, and then the Governorreported that Arthur Bastow, who was believed to have been the leadingspirit of the mutiny, was among those who had escaped, and had not yetbeen recaptured. It was generally believed that he had been killed bythe blacks, but of this there was no actual proof.

  Mr. Bastow was much disturbed when he heard the news. "Suppose he comesback here, Mr. Thorndyke."

  "I won't suppose anything of the sort," the Squire replied. "I don't saythat it would be altogether impossible, because now that vessels go fromtime to time to Sydney, he might, of course, be able to hide up in oneof them, and not come on deck until she was well on her way, when, inall probability, he would be allowed to work his passage, and might beput ashore without any information being given to the authorities.I have no doubt that among the sailors there would be a good deal ofsympathy felt for the convicts. No doubt they have a hard time of it,and we know that the gangs working on the roads are always ironed.Still, this is very unlikely, and the chances are all in favor of hisbeing in hiding in the bush.

  "The shepherds and other hands on the farms are chiefly convicts, andwould probably give him aid if he required it, and there would be nodifficulty in getting a sheep, now and then, for, as all reports say,one of the chief troubles out there are the wild dogs, or dingoes, asthey are called; any loss in that way would readily be put down to them.As to money, he would have no occasion for it; if he wanted it he wouldget it by robbing the settlers, he would know that if he came back herehe would run the risk of being seized at once on landing or of beingspeedily hunted down as an escaped convict. I don't think that there isthe slightest occasion for us to trouble ourselves about him."

  But though the Squire spoke so confidently, he felt by no means surethat Arthur Bastow would not turn up again, for his reckless audacityhad made a great impression upon him. The proceeds of the robberies inthe colony, in which he had no doubt played a part, would have furnishedhim with money with which he could bribe a sailor to hide him awayand, if necessary, pay his passage money to England, when discoveredon board, and perhaps maintain him when he got home until he couldreplenish his purse by some unlawful means. Lastly, the Squire arguedthat the fellow's vindictive nature and longing for revenge would act asan incentive to bring him back to London. He talked the matter over withMark, who was now a powerful young fellow of twenty, who, of course,remembered the incidents attending Bastow's capture and trial.

  "I cannot help fancying that the fellow will come back, Mark."

  "Well, if he does, father, we must make it our business to lay him bythe heels again. You managed it last time, and if he should turn up youmay be sure I will help you to do it again."

  "Yes, but we may not hear of his having returned until he strikes ablow. At any rate, see that your pistols are loaded and close at hand atnight."

  "They always are, father. There is no saying when a house like this,standing alone, and containing a good deal of plate and valuables, maybe broken into."

  "Well, you might as well carry them always when you go out after dark.I shall speak to Knapp, and request him to let me know if he hears of asuspicious looking character--any stranger, in fact--being noticed inor about the village, and I shall have a talk with Simeox, the headconstable at Reigate, and ask him to do the same. He is not the sameman who was head at the time Bastow was up before us, but he was inthe force then, and, as one of the constables who came up to take theprisoners down to Reigate, he will have all the facts in his mind. He isa sharp fellow, and though Bastow has no doubt changed a good deal sincethen, he would hardly fail to recognize him if his eye fell upon him. Ofcourse we may be alarming ourselves unnecessarily, but there are severalreasons why I should object strongly to be shot just at the presenttime."

  "Or at any other time, I should say, father," the young man said with alaugh.

  "I shall know him, Squire, safe enough," the head constable replied whenJohn Thorndyke went down to see him on the following day; "but I shouldthink that if he does come back to England he will hardly be fool enoughto come down here. He was pretty well known in town before that affair,and everyone who was in the courthouse would be sure to have his facestrongly impressed upon their minds. You may forget a man you have seencasually, but you don't forget one you have watched closely when he isin the dock with two others charged with murder. Five out of my six menwere constables at that time, and would know him again the minute theysaw him; but anyhow, I will tell them to keep a sharp lookout in thetramps' quarters, and especially over the two or three men still herethat Bastow used to consort with. I should say that Reigate is the lastplace in the world where he would show his face."

  "I hope so," the Squire said. "He has caused trouble enough down here asit is; his father is getting an old man now, and is by no means strong,and fresh troubles of that kind would undoubtedly kill him."

  A month later the Reigate coach was stopped when a short distance outof the town by two highwaymen, and a considerable prize obtained by therobbers. Soon afterwards came news of private carriages being stopped onvarious commons in the South of London, and of several burglaries takingplace among the houses round Clapham, Wandsworth, and Putney. Suchevents were by no means uncommon, but following each other in such quicksuccession they created a strong feeling of alarm among the inhabitantsof the neighborhood. John Thorndyke, going up to town shortlyafterwards, went to the headquarters of the Bow Street runners, and hada talk with their chief in reference especially to the stoppage of theReigate coach. Mr. Chetwynd had lately died, and John Thorndyke had beenunanimously elected by his fellow magistrates as chairman of the bench.

  "No, Mr. Thorndyke, we have no clew whatever. Our men have been keepingthe sharpest watch over the fellows suspected of having a hand in suchmatters, but they all seem keeping pretty quiet at present, and none ofthem seem to be particularly flush with money. It is the same with theseburglaries in the South of London. We are at our wits' end about them.We are flooded with letters of complaint from residents; but though thepatrols on the common have been doubled and every effort made, we are asfar off as ever. As far as the burglaries are concerned, we have everyreason to think that they are the work of two or three new hands. Thejobs are not neatly done, and certainly not with tools usually used byburglars. They seem to rely upon daring rather than skill. Anyhow, wedon't kno
w where to look for them, and are altogether at sea.

  "Of course it is as annoying to us as it is to anyone else; more so,because the Justices of the Peace are sending complaints to the HomeSecretary, and he in turn drops on us and wants to know what we aredoing. I have a sort of fancy myself the fellows who are stopping thecoaches are the same as those concerned in the burglaries. I could notgive you my reasons for saying so, except that on no occasion has acoach been stopped and a house broken into on the same night. I fancythat at present we shan't hear much more of them. They have created suchalarm that the coaches carry with them two men armed with blunderbusses,in addition to the guards, and I should fancy that every householdersleeps with pistols within reach, and has got arms for his servants. Atmany of the large houses I know a watchman has been engaged to sit inthe hall all night, to ring the alarm bell and wake the inmates directlyhe hears any suspicious sounds. Perhaps the fellows may be quiet for atime, for they must, during the last month, have got a wonderful amountof spoil. Maybe they will go west--the Bath road is always a favoriteone with these fellows--maybe they will work the northern side of thetown. I hope we shall lay hands upon them one day, but so far I may sayfrankly we have not the slightest clew."

  "But they must put their horses up somewhere?"

  "Yes, but unfortunately there are so many small wayside inns, that itis next to impossible to trace them. A number of these fellows are inalliance with the highwaymen. Some of them, too, have small farms inaddition to their public house businesses, and the horses may be snuglyput up there, while we are searching the inn stables in vain. Again,there are rogues even among the farmers themselves; little men, perhaps,who do not farm more than thirty or forty acres, either working themthemselves, or by the aid of a hired man who lives perhaps at a villagea mile away. To a man of this kind, the offer of a couple of guineas aweek to keep two horses in an empty cowshed, and to ask no questions, isa heavy temptation.

  "We have got two clever fellows going about the country inquiring atall the villages whether two mounted men have lately been heard goingthrough there late at night, or early in the morning, so as to narrowdown the area to be searched, but nothing has come of it, although I ampretty sure that they must have three or four places they use in variousdirections. My men have picked up stories of horsemen being heardoccasionally, but they come from various directions, and nowhere havethey been noticed with any regularity. Besides, there are other knightsof the road about, so we are no nearer than we were on that line ofinquiry."

  A month later John Thorndyke had occasion to go up again to town. Thistime Mark accompanied him. Both carried pistols, as did the groom,sitting behind them. The Squire himself was but a poor shot, but Markhad practiced a great deal.

  "'Tis a good thing to be able to shoot straight, Mark," his father hadsaid to him three years before. "I abhor dueling, but there is so muchof it at present that any gentlemen might find himself in a positionwhen he must either go out or submit to be considered a coward. Then,too, the roads are infested by highwaymen. For that reason alone itwould be well that a man should be able to shoot straight. You shouldalso practice sometimes at night, setting up some object at a distanceso that you can just make out its outline, and taking a dozen shots atit. I know it is very difficult when you cannot see your own pistol, butyou can soon learn to trust to your arm to come up to the right heightand in the right direction. Of course you must wait until morning tofind out where your bullet has gone."

  Two days after they had reached town the Squire received a letter fromMrs. Cunningham.

  "DEAR MR. THORNDYKE:

  "Knapp has been up this morning to tell me that a stranger dismountedyesterday at the alehouse, and while his horse was being fed he asked afew questions. Among others, he wished to be told if you were at home,saying that he had known you some fifteen years ago, when you lived nearHastings, and should like to have a talk with you again. In fact, he hadturned off from the main road for the purpose. He seemed disappointedwhen he heard that you had gone up to town, and hearing that you mightnot be back for three or four days, said he should be coming backthrough Reigate in a week or ten days, and he dared say he should beable to find time to call again. Knapp did not hear about it until thismorning; he asked the landlord about the man, and the landlord said hewas about thirty, dark, and sparely built. He did not notice his horseparticularly, seeing that it was such as a small squire or farmer mightride. He carried a brace of pistols in his holsters. The landlord wasnot prepossessed with his appearance, and it was that that made himspeak to Knapp about him. I have told the men to unfasten the dogs everynight, and I have asked Knapp to send up two trustworthy men to keepwatch."

  "It may mean something, and it may not," the Squire said, as he handedthe letter to Mark. "It is a suspicious looking circumstance; ifthe fellow had been honest he would surely have said something abouthimself. There is no doubt these housebreakers generally find out whatchance there is of resistance, and, hearing that we were both away,may have decided on making an attempt. I have pretty well finished ourbusiness and ordered nearly all the provisions that Mrs. Cunninghamrequires. But I have to call at my lawyer's, and that is generally alongish business. It is half past two o'clock now; if we start fromhere at five we shall be down soon after eight, which will be quite soonenough. We shall have a couple of hours' drive in the dark, but thatwon't matter, we have got the lamps."

  "I am quite ready to start, father. I am engaged to sup with ReginaldAscot, but I will go over this afternoon and make my excuses."

  At five o'clock they started. "You have got your pistols in order,Mark?" the Squire asked, as they drove over London Bridge.

  "I have them handy, father, one in each pocket."

  "James, are your pistols charged?"

  "Yes, sir."

  At six o'clock it was beginning to get dusk, and they stopped while thegroom got down and lit the lamps; then they resumed their journey. Theywere within five miles of Reigate when suddenly two horsemen rode outfrom a side road with a shout of "Stand and deliver!"

  The Squire lashed the horses, and a moment later a pistol was fired, andthe ball went through his hat. By the light of the lamps Mark sawthe other man raise his hand, and, leveling his pistol, fired on theinstant; then, as there was no reply to his shot, he discharged thesecond barrel at the first who had fired, and who had at once drawnanother pistol. The two reports rang out almost at the same moment, butMark's was a little the first. There was a sharp exclamation of painfrom the highwayman, who wrenched round his horse and galloped down thelane from which he had issued, the groom sending two bullets after him.

  "Where is the other man?" Mark exclaimed, as his father reined in thehorses.

  "Somewhere on the ground there, Mark; I saw him fall from his saddle aswe passed him."

  "Is it any use pursuing the other, father? I am pretty sure I hit him."

  "I am quite sure you did, but it is no good our following; the sideroads are so cut up by ruts that we should break a spring before we hadgone a hundred yards. No, we will stop and look at this fellow who isunhorsed, Mark."

  The groom got down, and, taking one of the carriage lamps, proceeded toa spot where the highwayman's horse was standing. The man was alreadydead, the bullet having hit him a few inches above the heart.

  "He is dead, father."

  "I think you had better lift him up on the foot board behind; James canride his horse. We will hand the body over to the constable at Reigate.He may know who he is, or find something upon him that may afford a clewthat will lead to the capture of his companion."

  "No, I don't know him, Squire," the constable said as they stoppedbefore his house and told him what had happened. "However, he certainlyis dead, and I will get one of the men to help me carry him into theshed behind the courthouse. So you say that you think that the other iswounded?"

  "I am pretty sure he is. I heard him give an exclamation as my sonfired."

  "That is good shooting, Mr. Mark," the constable said. "If everypassenger co
uld use his arms as you do there would soon be an end tostopping coaches. I will see what he has got about him, and will come upand let you know, Squire, the first thing in the morning."

  "I will send Knapp down," John Thorndyke said, as they drove homewards."I am rather curious to know if this fellow is the same Mrs. Cunninghamwrote about. I will tell him to take Peters along with him."

  "I hardly see that there can be any connection between the two.Highwaymen don't go in for house breaking. I think they consider that tobe a lower branch of the profession."

  "Generally they do, no doubt, Mark; but you know I told you that thechief at Bow Street said that he had a suspicion that the highwayrobbers and the house breakers who have been creating so much alarm arethe same men."

  "It is curious that they should have happened to light on us, father, ifthey were intending to break into our house."

  John Thorndyke made no reply, and in a few minutes drove up to thehouse. Their return, a couple of days before they were expected,caused great satisfaction to Mrs. Cunningham and Millicent. The former,however, had wisely kept from the girl the matter on which she hadwritten to the Squire, and the suspicion she had herself entertained.

  "It is very dull without you both," Millicent said. "I was telling Mrs.Cunningham that I thought it would be a good thing, when you got back,for us two to take a run up to town for a week, just to let you seehow dull the place is when two of us are away. You are looking quiteserious, uncle. Is anything the matter?"

  "Happily nothing is the matter with us, dear, but we have had anadventure, and not a very pleasant one."

  "What was it?" the girl asked.

  "If you examine my hat closely, Millicent, it will tell you."

  The girl took up the hat from a chair on which he had put it, andbrought it to the light. "There are two holes in it," she said. "Oh,Guardy, have you been shot at?"

  "It looks like it, dear. Two gentlemen highwaymen--at least, that iswhat I believe they call themselves--asked us pressingly to stop, andas we would not comply with their request, one fired at me, and, as yousee, it was an uncommonly good shot. The other was about to fire whenMark's pistol put a stop to him, and his second barrel stopped thefellow who had fired first; he was hit, for we heard him give anexclamation of pain, but before any more shooting could be done heturned and rode off down a narrow lane where we could not follow."

  "And what became of the first?" Millicent asked with open eyes.

  "He was dead before we could get down to examine him; he will notdisturb the King's peace again. It happened about four miles from home,so we brought him in and gave him and his horse into the charge of theconstable at Reigate."

  "And you have really killed a man?" Millicent said, looking up with anawestruck expression to Mark.

  "Well, as the man would have killed us if I hadn't, I cannot say,Millicent, that his death weighs in any way heavily on my mind. If hewere as good a shot as the other, my father's life would not have beenworth much, for as we were driving fast, he was not above half as faraway as the other had been when he fired. Just the same, I suppose, asit would be in a battle; a man is going to shoot you, and you shoot himfirst, and I don't suppose it ever troubles you afterwards."

  "Of course I don't mean that I blame you, Mark; but it does seemshocking."

  "I don't suppose you would think that, Millicent, if a burglar, who hadtaken one shot at you and was about to finish you with another, was cutshort in the operation by a shot from my pistol. I believe that yourrelief and thankfulness would be so great that the idea that it was ashocking thing for me to do would not as much as enter your head."

  "I wish you had shot the other man as well as the one you did, Mark,"the Squire said, as he walked with his son down to Reigate to attend theinquest the next morning on the man he had brought in. Mark looked athis father in surprise.

  "There is no doubt I hit him, father," he said; "but I should not thinkthat he will be likely to trouble us again."

  "I wish I felt quite sure of that. Do you know that I have a strongsuspicion that it was Arthur Bastow?"

  Mark had, of course, heard of Bastow's escape, but had attached no greatimportance to it. The crime had taken place nearly eight years before,and although greatly impressed at the time by the ill doings of the man,the idea that he would ever return and endeavor to avenge himself onhis father for the part he had taken had not occurred to him. Beyondmentioning his escape, the Squire had never talked to him on thesubject.

  "It was he who bade us stand and deliver, and the moment he spoke thevoice seemed familiar to me, and, thinking it over, I have an impressionthat it was his. I may be mistaken, for I have had him in my mind eversince I heard that he had escaped, and may therefore have connected thevoice with him erroneously, and yet I cannot but think that I was right.You see, there are two or three suspicious circumstances. In the firstplace, there was this man down here making inquiries. Knapp went downearly this morning with the innkeeper, and told me before breakfast thatPeters at once recognized the fellow you shot as the man who had madethe inquiries. Now, the natural result of making inquiries would havebeen that the two men would the next evening have broken into the house,thinking that during our absence they would meet with no resistance.Instead of doing this they waylaid us on the road, which looks as if itwas me they intended to attack, and not the house."

  "But how could they have known that it was us, father? It is certainlysingular that one of the two men should have been the fellow who was upat the inn, but it may be only a matter of coincidence."

  "I don't know, Mark; I don't say that singular coincidences don't occur,but I have not much faith in them. Still, if they were journeying downto attack the house last night they would hardly have stopped travelersby the way when there was a rich booty awaiting them, as they evidentlybelieved there was, or that man would not have come down specially tomake inquiries. My own impression is that when they heard that we shouldreturn in two or three days one of them watched us in London, and assoon as they learned that we were to start for home at five o'clock theycame down here to stop us. They would hardly have done that merely toget our watches and what money we had in our pockets."

  "No, I should think not, father; but they might be friends of men whohave got into trouble at Reigate, and, as you are chairman of the bench,may have had a special grudge against you for their conviction."

  "That is, of course, possible, and I hope that it is so."

  "But even if Arthur Bastow had escaped, father, why should he come backto England, where he would know that he might be arrested again, insteadof staying quietly out in Australia?"

  "There are two reasons. In the first place the life out there would notbe a quiet one; there would be nothing for him but to attack and rob thesettlers, and this, as they are sure to be armed, is a pretty dangerousbusiness. Then there are perils from the blacks, and lastly, such alife would be absolutely devoid of comfort, and be that of a hunted dog;living always in the bush, scarcely venturing to sleep lest he shouldbe pounced upon either by the armed constables of the colony or by theblacks. It is not as if the country were extensively populated; thereare not a very large number of settlers there yet, and therefore verysmall scope for robbers. These people would keep very little moneywith them, and the amount of plunder to be got would be small indeed.Therefore, I take it that the main object of any escaped convict wouldbe to get away from the place.

  "That is one of the reasons why the fellow might come back to Englandin spite of the risks. The other is that I believe him to be sodiabolically vindictive that he would run almost any peril in order toobtain revenge upon me or his father. Twice he has threatened me, thefirst time when we captured him, the second time as he left the courtafter he had received his sentence. I am not a coward, so far as I know,Mark, but I am as certain as I stand here that he meant what he said,and that, during these years of imprisonment and toil out there, he hasbeen cherishing the thought of coming home some day and getting evenwith me. You see, he is said to have been
the leader of this convictrevolt. There is no doubting his daring, and to my mind the attack uponus last night, when they knew that they could have managed a successfulrobbery here, points to the fact that it was the result of personalanimosity, and strengthens my belief that it was Arthur Bastow whocalled upon us to stand and deliver."

  "It is a very unpleasant idea, father."

  "Very unpleasant, and it seems to me that we should at any rate spare nopains in hunting the man you wounded down."

  "I will undertake that if you like. I have nothing particular to do, andit would be an excitement. You have a lot to keep you here."

  "I don't fancy that you will find it an excitement, Mark, for of coursethe detectives will do the hunting, but I should certainly be glad ifyou would take a letter for me to the head of the Detective Department,and tell him what I think, and my reasons for thinking so, and say thatI offer a reward of a hundred pounds for the capture of the man whotried to stop us, and who was, we are certain, wounded by you. Unlesshe has some marvelously out of the way hiding place, it ought not tobe difficult. A wounded man could scarcely lie hidden in the slums ofLondon without it being known to a good many people, to some of whoma reward of the sum of a hundred pounds would be an irresistibletemptation."

  By this time they had reached Reigate. The inquest did not lastmany minutes, and the jury without hesitation returned a verdict ofjustifiable homicide.